A Pound of Flesh
by jaxon22
Summary: To pay a debt she owes her father, Isabella Swan starts a new job as a prison tutor. Edward Cullen, with his own debts, is the Punk Ass inmate in her class. Can they fight the odds and their dangerous attaction to learn from each other? A/H, Lemons, OOC
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Isabella Swan sat cross-legged, enjoying the feel of the Egyptian cotton sheets that were pulled taut and creaseless across the four-poster bed of Suite 227 of the Mandarin Hotel, New York.

She sat, smiling, watching with rapt, adoring nine year old eyes as her father stood in front of a large vertical mirror, trying to fathom how to fasten the black silk tie that was hanging uncooperatively around his neck. He sighed in frustration and rolled his eyes at the reflection of his daughter, who giggled and grinned back widely.

Usually his wife would assist him in matters such as a defiant tie but she was five hours away in D.C attending a breast cancer awareness event; a cause that she had been an avid supporter of since she had lost her older sister to the appalling disease not ten years before. He couldn't begrudge her need to be there but it didn't stop him from missing her.

Just recently they had been more like ships passing in the night as opposed to husband and wife. He longed to have more than one night with her without the stress of an upcoming flight or an event hanging over them as they made love or simply held one another. But alas, a politician's life was filled with responsibilities that took him away from his family, which was why he had asked Isabella to join him on this particular trip.

Senator Charles Swan was known in the political world for two things; a ruthless determination and utter humility. Many admired him for walking such a fine line between two such opposing character traits, others saw him as a walking contradiction but neither bothered Senator Swan because another characteristic he possessed, that lay silent but entirely present under his cool façade was that he took no bullshit.

From anyone.

And God help anyone who tried to shovel any his way.

He finally won his battle against the tie from hell and spun around, arms out wide, to face his daughter.

"So, Bells, what do you think?"

"Handsome," she chimed with a loud clap.

"Always am," he replied with a wink, before walking towards the phone that was ringing from its position on the night stand by the bed.

"Yes," he answered quickly.

"Senator, your car is waiting," replied the young blonde from the hotel front desk.

"Thank you," he said with a smile. "Ok," he continued towards his daughter as he replaced the receiver. "You ready, baby?"

"Yep," Isabella answered, jumping from the bed and straightening her pastel blue dress down past her knees.

"You excited?" he asked as he placed a loving hand on her shoulder.

She nodded and twisted so that she could wrap her arms around her Daddy's waist. He was her hero. He was her cuddly giant who always saved the cherry from the bottom of his cherry ice cream sundaes. Who still tucked her in when he could and read her '_Walter the lazy Mouse_,' even though she knew, that if the girls at school ever found out, she would be taunted and laughed at for certain. But that didn't stop Daddy from doing it. He would do anything for her, she knew. She knew because he told her repeatedly.

"Anything for my beauty,' he would say and he meant it.

If Charles Swan's wife was his world then Isabella was the sun that warmed it. He basked in her glow and spark, which was as much he as it was her mother.

He glanced out of the limousine window to see the tall skyscrapers slowly become smaller more destitute buildings that were covered in graffiti that was as beautiful as it was misplaced. It deserved to be in an art museum somewhere. He smiled as he thought back to the days when he would leave his signature CS in bright green and black around the town that he lived in. He was warned and fined twice but it never stopped him. He was rebellious and he reveled in it. Growing up in a low class neighborhood where drugs and crime were rife he had to do something to keep him off the path that was so inevitable for so many others.

The car came to a slow stop outside a large whitewash building that looked like a large precious gem amidst the other dirty walls of the surrounding neighborhood and, ironically enough, that was exactly what it was in Senator Swan's eyes. It was his gem.

_The Bronx Helping Hand Shelter_ was a four-year labor of love for him. His idea had been to build and open a place for people with little or no medical insurance, particularly families, the homeless and the hungry. Once there, the users could cook their own meals, were given access to medicines and volunteer doctors and also Internet access to help them find work or to simply learn a skill in using a computer. All the workers at the shelter were volunteers and the letters of recommendation from them all had been unprecedented.

The Senator's idea was obviously something that struck a chord in many others, far and wide.

People were limited to staying at the shelter for a maximum of seven days but Senator Swan was determined to change that. He knew, with a heavy heart and a frustrated soul that there was a lot of political red tape to get through before that happened. But he would. He had to. He knew without doubt that, had there been a place like the _Helping Hand Shelter_ for him and his own mother, when he was Isabella's age, their lives would have been a damn sight easier.

His one wish at that moment was that his mother was still alive to see what he had achieved.

"Let's go, sweetie," he said to Isabella, taking her hand and slipping out of the car door that was being held open by Agent Billy Ephraim, Charles's favorite and most trusted bodyguard.

"Thank you, Billy," he said with a nod.

"Of course, Sir," he replied in kind.

The grand opening of the shelter had been three months earlier but Senator Swan wanted to make sure that all was running as it should have been and that any earlier kinks had been ironed out. He was happily assured as he walked around, led by Hannah Crest the shelter manager. He held Isabella's hand tightly and pointed out all the elements that would make so many people's lives easier.

"What do you think, Bells?" he asked with a small smile.

"It's wonderful," she answered as she ran her hand over the keyboard of one of the new Mac computers that were bolted to the wooden desks "Do you help all these people?" She motioned towards the dozen or so men, women and children that were scattered around the room, reading, eating and talking.

"I try," he answered honestly.

"You're their hero too," Isabella mused almost to herself.

Senator Swan couldn't help but laugh and flush gently at his daughter's compliment. He walked towards her and crouched so that he was eye-level with her.

"It's important to help people, Bells. We are very lucky but that wasn't always so for me."

"When you were little?" she asked, running her index finger across his moustache.

"That's right," he replied with a smile that made his eyes crinkle. "We need to make sure that we give back, Bells. Do you understand, baby?"

She frowned slightly but nodded. "How can I help?" she asked firmly. She knew she had to do something. She just wasn't sure, at nine years old, what that could be.

"Well, when you're a little older and you've gone to college, you can do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?"

He nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Of course, sweetheart; A doctor, a teacher, a nurse…"

"A teacher," she repeated with wide eyes.

Senator Swan laughed again. "Yeah, baby. You could teach in a school, helping people."

"Helping like you," Isabella said softly. She could be a hero like Daddy and that thought alone excited her like nothing else. "I will. I promise. I'll help," she swore without a hint of dishonesty.

"That's great, Bella," her father replied, knowing that she ant every word. "I'd be so proud of you. Even more than I am already."

The words hit Isabella's ears and her immediate reaction was to throw her arms around his neck and squeeze. Her father hugged her back and rubbed his palm down the back of her hair and took a deep breath of her precious scent. He knew his daughter was destined for greatness and through helping others he knew she would achieve it. He and his family led a charmed life that he had worked hard to attain, but it was vitally important to him that his daughter gave something back. He had done his utmost to teach her right and he prayed daily that some part of her had taken his words to heed.

"I love you," he whispered as he cupped her face and kissed her forehead. "You can be all you want to be, Isabella."

"I want to be like you, helping people," she answered determinedly.

"And so you shall be," he promised her.

The father daughter duo spent three more hours talking and learning more about the people who used and volunteered at the shelter. Isabella was fascinated by the way in which people gravitated towards her father. He was commanding but approachable and everyone he met thanked him and wished him well.

Yes, Isabella wanted to be like her father and being a teacher would be just the way to do it. She wanted to make him proud and she wanted to help people just like he did.

Yes – she was decided – she would make her Daddy proud.

"Ok, Bells," he said with a wide smile. "I don't know about you," he whispered. "But I'm hungry and I know a great sandwich place around the corner. How about it, baby, you and me?"

Isabella bit her lip and nodded eagerly. Senator Swan said his goodbyes, thanking everyone for their hard work and promised that he would be back to once again check on his gem. The shelter, he decided, was looking excellent and, although there was more work to be done, he was pleased with what he saw. He made a note on his Blackberry to speak to his assistant about finding a supplier for thicker blankets for the beds and larger pans for the kitchens.

The cool evening air hit the two of them as they approached the car, while Agent Ephraim held the door open for them.

"Thanks, Billy, but I'm taking my daughter here for a _Mr. Hess_ sandwich."

Agent Ephraim smiled gently and nodded, "Very good, Sir."

He closed the car door and made to escort them down the street.

"Stay here," Senator Swan said with a shrug. "It's only a block down."

"Senator," Agent Ephraim protested.

"Please," he assured him. "We'll be fine, really." He clapped a hand to the agent's large, broad shoulder. "Take a load off." He grabbed Isabella's hand and began towards the world famous sandwich shop.

Agent Ephraim clenched his teeth. He could still make out the pair of them as they walked across the street but he became extremely uneasy when they disappeared around the corner. He slammed his palms against his hips and sighed in exasperation. This wasn't the first time that this had happened but orders were orders and Senator Swan was a determined and stubborn son of a bitch. He paced and adjusted his earpiece once again. He knew the Senator had a panic alarm but not being with him filled him with anxiety.

It was his job to protect the Senator after all.

Senator Swan however was oblivious to the worries of his bodyguard as he sat down with his daughter and began tucking into the best cheese steak sandwich outside of Philadelphia. Isabella ate hers with enthusiasm while smiling at a young girl who glanced over with a look of recognition on his face. The shop was empty but for the three of them, not that Senator Swan was concerned.

The area may have had a poor reputation for crime and violence but he was confident that he was safe with his daughter as they ate. Besides, after living in the areas he had growing up, he would like to see anyone try something against him or his daughter. He may have been wearing a thousand dollar suit and Prada loafers but his knuckles and street sense were worth more than those combined.

Isabella continued to regale her father with her dreams of the future and how she saw herself in a classroom, teaching and helping in any way she could. Her enthusiasm and fortitude warmed his soul more than he could express, especially since he knew that she got it all from him. Daddy's girl, his wife would sigh repeatedly.

They finished their sandwiches and set off back onto the street, Isabella's hand placed firmly in her father's tight grip. The grip however suddenly became painful as they passed a dark, piss soaked alleyway from which slunk four young men with knives and guns in the waistbands of their dirty, ripped jeans.

Senator Swan couldn't see the weapons but, like a sixth sense that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, he knew they were there. He quickened his pace so much that Isabella was almost jogging to keep up.

"Daddy," she whispered in panic as she glanced up to see a tightness in his jaw that she had never seen before.

It scared her.

"Shh," he soothed as he pulled her across the street, heading for a streetlight, while fumbling for his panic alarm in his pants pocket. "Just listen to me ok, baby? Stay calm. Do exactly what I say. Do you understand me? Exactly what I say."

Isabella nodded and chanced a glance behind them, seeing that the four young men were keeping up with her father stride for stride, watching, stalking like wild animals. She wanted to cry. She didn't exactly know why but the emotion seemed to bubble in her stomach before starting to move up her body to her throat.

Senator Swan cursed as he continued to pat himself down for the panic alarm. He knew it was somewhere. His fingers eventually found it in his right breast pocket and he felt a wave of calm over take him as he pressed it. The calm was quickly over taken when something hard and blunt hit the back of his knees, sending him sprawling onto the floor, taking his daughter with him.

"Give me your fucking wallet," the first guy hissed before hitting him again across his lower back.

Isabella screamed in horror as she watched the baseball bat connect with her father, sending the air out of his body in a loud gust.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!"

Isabella didn't know where the voice came from nor did she see the direction at which the hand came that struck her hard across the face, sending her skidding across the sidewalk.

"Don't you fucking touch her!"

Senator Swan had suddenly dissolved into the sidewalk leaving only Charlie Swan, project and ghetto resident in his place, breathless and seething and ready to take on the four motherfuckers for touching his precious beauty.

With unknown strength he made it to his feet and launched himself at the wide eyed kid who had struck her. There were fists and palms and even bites that rained back down on him. His head throbbed and there was the faint taste of iron in the back of his throat as he fought a desperate, losing battle.

But all he could think about was his Isabella.

"Run!" he cried to his daughter, unable to see where she was or if they had her, through the barricade of bodies that surrounded him. "Run, Isabella. Please just fucking run!" He groaned in agony as another fist met the side of his head.

Isabella was struck cold by the pleading in her father's voice so much so that she was frozen solid to the concrete that she had met after being hit. Tears ran down her face and an animalistic cry erupted from her throat.

"Daddy!"

"Isabella," Charlie gurgled as his knees hit the floor, his eyes blurring with blood, sweat and tears. "Please, baby."

Isabella made to move towards him to help her hero but her arm was suddenly being pulled hard in the opposite direction. She breathed in slight relief, expecting to see Agent Ephraim holding her but was stunned to see a person not much taller than her, wearing a dirty, black hoodie, dragging her violently away from where her father was being beaten.

"No," she screamed loudly as the stranger dragged her faster, "Daddy! Daddy!"

"Keep moving!" the stranger hissed from under his cap and hood. "We have to get away from them. They'll kill your ass! Move!"

"I can't," Isabella sobbed. "My Dad…"

The stranger didn't stop to listen as the adrenaline pumped through him and instead pulled her into the doorway of an abandoned building two blocks from where the resounding and terrifying sound of gunfire filled the air. Isabella screamed and yanked her hand hard from her rescuers grip. She began running back in the direction of the attack but was wrestled to the floor by strong and firm hands that pinned her down from behind.

They both landed on the sidewalk with a resounding thud.

Isabella continued to scream from under the stranger who was determined not to let her go. She may have been a spoilt little rich girl, he thought, but she was far too pretty to be left to the fuckers that were no doubt killing her poor bastard of a father. He wouldn't normally involve himself for fear of becoming the gangs target but this time was different. Something inside told him to help the dark haired girl in the blue dress, something that would not relent or shut the fuck up.

"Stay here," he breathed heavily into her hair as she wriggled beneath him. "You can't go back dammit. He told you to run for Christ's sake."

Isabella fought more against him but soon felt her body become heavy and exhausted, her cries and screams had now changed to wracked sobs that stuttered into the concrete under her forehead before she felt the weight on top of her disappear and two hands lift her, pulling her into the freezing doorway of the same abandoned building.

She slumped against the body next to her and mewed in pain into the musty smelling fabric of his hoodie. She needed to get to her Daddy. She needed to see that he was ok. He had to be ok. He was her hero, powerful, commanding and strong. He had to be all right.

An arm around her shoulder and a cold hand against her cheek was her undoing as she wilted further against the body of her unknown rescuer.

She may have stayed that way for hours, she may have even fallen asleep because the next thing she knew she was being carried by a police officer towards an ambulance. She opened her eyes as wide as they would go from all the crying she had done, only to see the exhausted face of Agent Ephraim surrounded by a sea of red and blue flashing lights.

The expression, that would haunt her for the rest of her life, told her, unequivocally, that her Daddy, the hero, would not be tucking her in later that night.

**Holy what a start, Batman!**

**I'd love to know what you think.**

**I plan on updating once a week depending on the feedback that I get.**

**So, it's all down to you. If you want more I'll give more.**

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**TTFN xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One:**** Strangers in the Night**

"_Fear follows crime, and is its punishment."_ ~ **Voltaire**

"Number," Officer Bishop, growled loudly at the tall, lean, bronze haired inmate standing in front of him.

It was a Friday.

It was a Friday and five minutes after clocking off.

Mrs. Bishop was going to be pissed.

_Fuck…_

Officer Bishop ran an impatient, calloused hand over the back of his neck and exhaled. Being the punctual, no nonsense guy that he was, the fact that the asshole before him was still not responding and was, instead, staring at him with a huge smirk on his punk ass face, sent a wave of irritation crashing over him.

"Number," he repeated through gritted teeth.

He squeezed the pen in his right hand, wishing to hell that it was Punk Ass's skinny little neck.

The smirk on Punk Ass's face grew wider and his eyes blazed with a defiance that Officer Bishop, with twenty-five years correctional service, was neither new to nor tolerated.

He sighed and gave Punk Ass a chillingly meager smile.

"Listen asshole," he said in a low dangerous voice that worked like a knife to the throat on the other inmates in his charge. "It's very simple. You give me your number, I put it on this form, and then I get to go home."

Punk Ass didn't respond, but reveled silently in the dark, threatening undertones of Officer Bishop's voice.

"You don't," he continued. "Then my wife gets pissed, and I have to explain to her that some cocky punk ass, who thought himself above answering simple questions, kept me waiting over a six-digit number. Then she'll get more pissed and shout about cocky punk asses and the fact that her and my tax dollars are what keep fuckers like you in three meals a day and blue overalls."

Punk Ass raised his right eyebrow in agreement.

How ironic, he thought, that him keeping Officer Bishop later than his assigned shift meant that he would, in turn, pay extra tax on the overtime he had built, ensuring that there would definitely be a breakfast waiting for his overall wearing, punk ass in the morning.

Officer Bishop took the widening smirk personally and gripped the end of his baton. In twenty-five years, he had never used it, but right then, he was not above laying the little bastard out if it meant a quiet night with the wife.

"One more time," he fumed, spitting slightly through his tight lips, "number."

His patience was wearing thin, and Punk Ass knew it as he glanced at the fist around the top of the baton. He breathed long and loud down his nose. Any other day he would have been ready for the fat bastard to take a shot. He would have, quite happily, taken the beating with the smile still plastered over his face, but the more he thought about it the more he realized he wasn't in the mood.

"061901," he answered coolly, unable to resist a small wink as he did.

After throwing the cocky little shit a glare that would have rendered any lesser man dead on the spot, Officer Bishop wrote the number down on the form on the desk in front of him. He swiveled around on his wheeled chair and passed it to the young blonde admin assistant who had been watching the entire exchange with intrigue.

How, she thought, how the hell did a creature so beautiful end up in a place like this? She allowed her eyes to roam up and down 061901 one more time, imagining the pleasures that hid beneath the blue overalls, before inputting the same six digits into her computer.

The owner of the six digits watched as she typed the number that had been his adopted name for the past nine months and knew, even before she hit the return key, what details would show up on the screen. He smiled to himself as he caught her looking at him again.

_Look all you want, darlin'…_

It wasn't that he was proud of the list of crimes and misdemeanors that would no doubt fill up at least two full screens - far from it - but it did however give him a sense of self which was something that he had been searching most of his twenty-seven years for. He was still searching for it…_for something_…and until he found it, that list, was all he had.

"Fuck it," he muttered quietly under his breath.

He was sick of fucking thinking about it.

The sound of paper ripping from an ancient printer brought him back to the moment. The appreciative blonde-haired woman handed the sheet back to Officer Bishop, sucking suggestively on the end of her pen while she eye fucked 061901 into oblivion.

If only, he thought, smirking back at her knowingly. A blowjob right now would be just the shit he needed to clear his head.

Pun fucking intended.

Either that or a cigarette. He licked his lips in anticipation for both.

"Well," Officer Bishop said with a long breath. He raised his eyebrows, as he looked at the paper, in a way that was neither surprised nor satisfied. "It appears your stay with us stretches for another fifteen long months."

The cocky punk ass didn't respond to the Officer's sarcastic remark, other than to look smug as shit.

_Parole motherfucker…_

Fucking justice. Where the hell was the justice? That's what Officer Bishop wanted to know.

He snorted at the lack of reaction and the complete injustice of it all, stamping the form a little harder than normal. He held it out for Punk Ass to take which he did with a quick hand.

"I'm sure I'll see you before you leave us," he said aloud, surprised that this was the first time he had met Punk Ass. "But to be safe, just know that I'll make sure to keep _your_ cell vacant. Just in case you desire another vacation at Casa de Arthur Kill, Staten Island. Ok, _Cullen_?"

Cullen looked up from the sheet in front of him and smiled widely.

"Don't tease me," he answered roughly before winking at Blondie and heading past the pair of them, opening a large plastic, white door with a slap from the palm of his hand.

Blondie sighed, and ignored the look of distaste that Officer Bishop shot her.

The room Cullen entered was small, sterile and reeked of confessions. It made him uncomfortable. Not that he would ever show it.

_Fuck that…_

He walked with purpose and arrogance towards a large, ape of a man who was sitting behind a single, cheap wooden table, glancing dismissively at the guard standing at the door at the other end of the room. The designer glasses and tailored suit that the man behind the desk wore made him look important, well read, and intimidating; three things that Garrett Volture had worked a long time to establish.

He looked up slowly as a stamped piece of paper floated down in front of him to see a young man that reminded him so much of his old self that it made his mouth dry.

"Edward," Garrett said, licking his lips with an arid tongue. "It's so good to see you. Please, take a seat."

Edward pushed his hands into the pockets of his overalls and dropped ungracefully into the offered seat. Garrett was the only person he knew that called him by his first name. Everyone else, even his best friend, called him Cullen. Garrett had been insistent about it. He saw it as a way of building relationships with the inmates he counseled and, after two weeks, Cullen had relented.

_Not for just any fucker_, he had told Garrett

"Gotta smoke?" Cullen asked, looking everywhere but at the man his question was directed at.

"Sure," Garrett replied, smiling at the routine the two of them had built up over the past nine months and the numerous stretches of detention that Edward had done before that.

He flung a pack of Camels and a pack of matches onto the table and watched as long, pale fingers grappled anxiously with the wrapper.

It was two days since Cullen had had a cigarette. Two fucking days. Fuck, he was desperate.

As he inhaled the thick, lush smoke, for one split second, all was right with the world. He slumped further into his seat, and took another long, much needed drag.

Jesus Christ, it felt good.

"Better?" Garrett asked with a knowing smile.

"Fuck loads," he replied, blowing the smoke back at him.

Garrett resisted the urge to waft the smoke away from his face, knowing that the gesture would only make Edward do it more. He had learned that the hard way about Edward Cullen. Any sign of weakness or irritation and Edward would grip onto it with the tenacity of a terrier.

It was a defense mechanism.

They had discussed it in one of the first sessions the two of them had had. A mechanism so finely executed that Edward, instead of defensive and feeble, came across as strong, dominating, and admittedly scary as fuck.

But Garrett Volture, having seventeen years experience as a corrections councilor, was not scared of the twenty-seven year old smoker in front of him. He was in awe of him. He pulled a document file at least seven inches thick from his briefcase and opened it up, flicking nonchalantly through the numerous reports, court statements and testimonials that described Edward as being a _'menace to society,' '…a strong willed character…' _and_ 'an intelligent individual who lacks the self confidence enough to assert it and channel it correctly.'_

Edward had not appreciated the last comment one bit and Garrett still had the chip in his front tooth to prove it.

Edward Anthony Masen Cullen had so much potential - that he channeled in completely the wrong way - that it amazed and infuriated Garrett Volture in equal measure. He was exceedingly intelligent, good-looking, and fiercely loyal to the people who he cared about, but he just couldn't seem to find a path that didn't lead to either serving time or ending up in hospital.

It was incredible how he had managed to live to the age he had considering his past misdemeanors. Theft, robbery, drug possession, grand theft auto, vandalism, handling a dangerous weapon; the list went on and on, and the fact that he ran with one of the most dangerous and notorious gangs in New York wasn't even mentioned in_ that_ particular file.

Garrett turned the final page and wrote the date at the top of the blank piece of paper before pressing record on the small digital voice recorder that was sitting between them.

"Session sixty-four, Edward Cullen, inmate number 061901," Garrett began in a monotonous voice. "How are you today, Edward?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"Peachy fucking keen," he replied, stubbing his cigarette out while lighting another. He was certainly feeling better after his smoke that was for damn certain.

"Good," Garrett retorted, writing a small note on his page.

It seemed that Edward was in a tranquil mood. Maybe the nicotine had helped after all. Garrett had never been one to bribe the other inmates he counseled, he never saw the need, but Edward had changed that. Garrett gave cigarettes and Edward talked. It was a silent agreement, but it was more than Garrett could ever have hoped for from the otherwise 'difficult' man.

"So, your release date came through yesterday," he continued. "How are you feeling about that?"

Cullen raised an incredulous eyebrow. He felt nothing. How the hell was he meant to feel? It wasn't like he'd never had a release date before.

_Come on, Garrett. You can do better than that…_

Garrett rolled his eyes in acceptance of his stupid question and carried on. "Ok," he conceded. "I was in a meeting yesterday regarding your enrollment into a couple of classes here at the facility."

Cullen rolled _his_ eyes this time. If only the fuckers would leave his education alone. He was a smart guy. Unbeknownst to them, he read Shakespeare and listened to classical music. He didn't need a bunch of Harvard and Yale graduate fat cats telling him that he needed to study. He was a grown ass man for fuck's sake. The brain cells that he did have left after all the pot that he'd smoked and alcohol he'd drunk were in fine working order, and it pissed him off no end that the idiots didn't see it.

He'd had six different tutors while he had been a guest at the King Court Juvenile Detention Centre when he was seventeen. Six. In four months. He smiled to himself.

Maybe Garrett was right. Maybe he _did_ have a problem with authority. Yeah, no fucking shit, he thought angrily - authority and tight faced English professors who preached about shit they knew nothing about

"Edward, it's important that you do things to challenge yourself while you are in here." The only things he had challenged over the past nine months were the guards and Garrett's patience.

Cullen blew the smoke he had just inhaled down his nose like a dragon, and licked his lips in agitation. Garrett noticed the change in him immediately and cursed himself inwardly; carrying on the conversation as if the atmosphere hadn't shifted to one with a palpable tension.

"There are a few options…English literature, Philosophy, Sociology…" He cleared his throat. "All led by fine, upstanding, intelligent tutors…"

Cullen watched as Garrett's hands twisted in on themselves slightly.

"Who?" Cullen asked carefully, praying to God that it wasn't the stupid bitch that had tried to tell him that, reading Dickens would help improve his character. He'd laughed in her face and then torn pages from '_Great Expectations_,' throwing them with glee into the trash can. "My character is just fucking fine," he had told her as she grabbed her bags and stormed out of the room.

_She_ had been tutor number four.

"Well," Garrett said, exhaling slightly with relief. "I explained to Mr. Newton and the other education specialists that you had had…_problems_ with the tutors that you had previously." 

_Nicely put…_

"But I assured the them all that you are much different than the seventeen year old high school drop out you use to be. Right?"

Cullen didn't answer but simply cast a skeptical glance towards his councilor letting the 'drop-out' comment slide.

Fucking great, Cullen thought to himself, I get rid of a century old Dickens lover only to be faced with a '_fine, upstanding_' literary geek with thick-rimmed glasses and halitosis. He stopped himself. Actually that might be fun. He began to run images through his head of the torment he could bring to a person such as that.

"How do you feel about this, Edward?" Garrett asked steepling his hands under his chin. "What would you like to study?"

"Whatever," he shrugged noncommittally, silently tossing up the choice between Literature and Philosophy. "I just wish these sycophantic academics would leave me the fuck alone."

Amen to that, Garrett thought to himself but raised his eyebrows and nodded gently in agreement.

"It's all part of the conditions for the chance of early parole, Edward, you know that. No matter _who_ your family is, you need to show progression in your rehabilitation, and if taking a couple of classes while you're here does that then you have to take it with both hands."

Cullen did know that and it pissed him off. Court, detention centers, and prison were old news to him and, he had to admit, he was getting bored with the law institution as a damn whole. He wasn't thinking of reforming completely. _Fuck that_… He was young and needed a good time, which usually meant that laws were broken, but he wanted his freedom for a bit longer than the twelve-month stretch between this incarceration and the last.

Plus, he wanted to add to that list on Blondie's computer screen. "I want it longer than my Johnson," he had told his first ever councilor.

He would just have to be more careful about how he did it. He thought briefly if terrorizing tutors was a misdemeanor or a felony.

"You're father called me yesterday."

Garrett's words not only broke the silence but fractured the tenuous grasp Cullen had on his patience after Garrett mentioned the first '_F-word_' - family - he grit his teeth at the mere thought. _There goes my good fucking mood, Garrett, ten points to you, asshole._

"And," he snarled. "What does he want, a fucking medal?" His leg began bouncing up and down under the table in earnest. He sucked on the cigarette hard, dragging the smoke into his lungs with a loud hiss.

Garrett, noticed this, shook his head, and sighed. "He was calling to see how you were. He cares about you." 

"The only things that prick cares about, is his cock and the next place he'll get to stick it. He doesn't give a shit about me. Got it?" Cullen fumed, glaring daggers at Garrett and grabbing quickly at the pack of Camels while simultaneously throwing his old one in the ashtray, never bothering to stub it out.

He knew it wasn't Garrett's fault. Hell, after the initial relationship testing that he put every new person through, which included name-calling, aggression, and general assholery on an epic scale, Garrett had proved to be a cool guy. Cullen would never tell him to his face, but he had a lot of time for him, and the time he had spent with him had been tolerable bordering on enjoyable. Still, the mention of his family and his father in the space of five fucking minutes, erased a lot of the cool he had allowed Garrett to establish.

"Well," Garrett conceded. "He wanted to know if he could visit you on Monday."

Cullen shook his head vigorously, "Jake's coming."

"Edward-"

"I said Jake's coming," he repeated through clenched teeth, noticing that the guard by the door had shifted his position slightly.

Garrett sighed and pulled his glasses from his face slowly.

"Edward, you don't need reminding that Jake is the main reason we know each other so well." He gestured with his hand at the space between them. "You need to be careful. He's not…good for you."

That was putting it mildly. Jake Black was like a disease, infecting everyone around him with bitterness and anger – Edward included. Garrett had tried to convince Edward of this repeatedly with very little effect.

"And what the fuck would you know?" Cullen erupted, slamming his palm on the table, making the wood groan under the force. He hid his annoyance at the fact that Garrett never flinched. "You think because we've spent time '_talking_' that you have the right to say shit like that?"

"No," Garrett soothed in a calm tone, keeping his eyes firmly on Edward. "That's not what I think at all-"

"Well, good," he interrupted, "because it doesn't."

He lit another cigarette and took a long pull, staring at Garrett over the burning embers.

"I know he's your best friend," Garrett said after a moment of tense silence.

"Yeah," Cullen agreed with a sharp nod. "He is. So, keep your thoughts to your fucking self."

He was sick of Garrett's preachy shit about Jake. He really had no clue that it would take a fuck load more than a couple of lectures to make him turn his back on his boy. None whatsoever. The two of them had been through too much shit for some dick with a badge and a suit to change anything. Jake had always had his back and Cullen was damn sure he'd always have his.

"Fair enough," Garrett said with a resigned nod. He didn't see the point in arguing when Edward was in a mood such as that, but he would keep trying to convince him of Jake's poison at another time, even if it fell on deaf ears.

He placed his glasses back on his nose and picked up his pen writing quickly in the folder so that Edward couldn't see.

His words were simple yet concise. '_He still hates the world.'_

=PoF=

The world that Garrett spoke of was one that Isabella Swan found shadowed and oppressive.

Even asleep, as she was that following Sunday night, the world around her seemed claustrophobic and riddled with doubt. Her small hands gripped the sheets of her double bed, twisting in desperation. Her eyes clenched and her jaw tightened as her head pressed into the soft pillows under it. Her spine was as straight as an arrow and flickered with electrical charges that made her feet shift in her sleep as she ran down a shadowed ally way.

_Stop._

A small sob rose from her throat as she tossed and turned, trapped in a never-ending slide show of a night that happened nearly sixteen years before.

"Please," she whispered into the darkness.

She knew, however, even as she slept, that no one would come to help her, to save her from the four faceless men that chased her as she ran through wet sand towards her father; no one but the unknown, dark figure that held her and comforted her in the moonlight of her dreams. Isabella also knew that even if she opened her eyes that the pain would still be there, even if the visions were not.

And that was the last thought that flooded her brain and her tear filled eyes, as she shot up into a sitting position, screaming, sweating, and breathless.

She exhaled awkwardly through a rough throat and brushed the well-known tears away with the back of her hand, trying to calm her body by taking deep breaths. She gazed around at her bedroom. A place that should have been comforting and safe but, because of the darkness, made her feel _even more_ alone than she did in the light of day. It had been a while since she had woken in such a way. At least two weeks, but the feeling that met her as she had opened her eyes to the blackness was still achingly familiar.

She shook her head and cupped her hands to her face in annoyance.

"Fuck," she muttered into her palms and clenched her eyes closed.

Her doctor had told her not to stop taking her sleeping pills all at once and to, instead, lower the dose gradually. Isabella had dismissed her advice, determined to make it through one night without the aid of chemicals. It seemed her determination was wasted. She beat her fist down into the mattress and groaned in frustration, leaning over towards her bedside table, flicking on the lamp. As much as she wanted it to, the light didn't help ease the panic, fear, and utter helplessness that her nightmares brought her.

You're safe, her subconscious screamed.

"I know," she whispered aloud, but even as she said the words, she knew that she would never ever feel truly safe from what she had experienced and her father would still be dead.

With a defeated sigh, she lifted herself from her bed and wandered towards her en suite bathroom, flinching at the brightness of the lights. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and frowned. She looked tired and drawn. With her index finger, she traced the dark circles under her right eye, and then her left, before running her hand through her hair that hung lank and dry at the sides of her thin face.

Her mother had told her that she was too skinny, the last time they had met for lunch, but Isabella had once again dismissed her words as the usual mother talk. However, as she looked at herself more closely, she realized that she _was_ looking too thin, maybe unhealthily so.

Pushing that particular thought away for another day and a more reasonable hour, she opened the mirrored cabinet and pulled out the bottle of pills that she had been resolute in quitting. She didn't have a problem, she just wished for a night where she didn't have to depend on fucking medicine to help her sleep. And it wasn't even as if the pills helped all that much. They just simply numbed the pain making it slightly easier to rest.

She smiled sardonically at the two blue capsules that landed in her open palm, and threw the bottle angrily back onto the shelf, slamming the mirrored door shut, hard enough to make it shake. She flicked the light off and made her way across her bare wood floor, back to bed.

She had realized a long time ago that there was no bed big enough, no sleep deep enough – with or without pills – for her to escape her nightmares. They'd been imprinted on her, ingrained, part of who she was, and, try as she might, she knew she would never be rid of them.

All the pills, therapy, and acceptance in the world would never erase the darkness and grief within her and, as a result, she had grown into a woman who was fiery, passionate, and strong-minded. It was, as her family and closest friends understood; a safe way of keeping other people at arm's length; hiding her despair and fear behind a quick wit and sharp tongue.

She sipped from the water that she religiously kept by her bed and swallowed the pills down hard. It isn't real, she told herself silently. It _had _been – nearly sixteen years ago - and now it was visions, smells and sounds that haunted her. She slumped back down against her feather pillows and sighed.

Would it ever get better? Easier?

She had no clue. All she did know and all that she had to focus on, since _it_ happened, was the fact that the sun rising would mean a new day and with that new day surely, for Isabella Swan, it meant a new start.

=PoF=

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?" Jamie asked with a sigh as he placed the triple espresso in front of Isabella.

He didn't need her coffee order to know it; he could see the dark circles under her usually bright brown eyes. Her shoulders were slumped and she looked too damn skinny. She was still beautiful, but she looked like she needed a good meal.

Isabella rolled her eyes at him and shrugged. "I tried," she replied, shaking the packet of _Sweet N Low _in between the index finger and thumb of her right hand.

"Which means you didn't," he countered with a shake of his head as he sat, which made Isabella's stomach clench. She hated that he knew her so well.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked incredulously.

He despised the idea of her being on her own before such an important day. He had offered to stay the night with her – in the spare room, of course – but she had told him it was unnecessary. He had bitten his tongue and said no more about it. As a result, his sleep had been disturbed and sporadic as he lay worrying about her.

Isabella exhaled loudly. "Jamie, it was three in the morning. Why _would_ I call you?"

"Because I'm your…friend and I care about you, especially with you taking this new job."

He ended his sentence quietly, knowing that it was bound to cause a reaction from the woman sitting across from him. Isabella glared, just as he expected and bit the inside of her mouth.

"Don't start," she warned.

Jamie held his hands up in surrender. "Who's starting?" he offered with a small smirk, noting the spark behind the chocolate of her eyes.

Isabella smirked back at his handsome face, making Jamie relax back into his seat. She stirred the thin wooden stick around in her cup leaning her elbows forward on the table between them.

"This job…" she started with a long breath after a comfortable silence.

"Is important to you, I know," Jamie interrupted with a nod. "I just…I want you to be safe, Bells."

She flinched inwardly at the nickname that was synonymous with her father. Jamie had always used it too, ever since they were kids, but after her night of inescapable dreams, it was hard to hear in the light of day.

"I will be," she murmured, feeling the ball of anxiety drop like a lead weight into her empty stomach.

Jamie moved his hand and rested it on top of hers, wrapping his fingers so they rested in her palm.

"Bells, you have a lot coming up in the next few months."

Isabella took in a deep breath and dropped her eyes from her friend's to the cup in her free hand.

"A new job, the hearing…the anniversary. I just…" Jamie paused wanting nothing more than to tell her how he really felt, how that, after knowing her his whole life, he wanted to be with her in every way that he could be but the moment was not this one.

He would - as he had done for the past twenty years - wait for the perfect moment to tell Isabella Swan that he loved her. That he was _in_ love with her.

"Just know that I'm here, ok?" he pleaded, dropping his head so that he could catch her eye. _I'll always be here, Bells…_

Isabella tried to smile but she knew it came off as more as a grimace. She was aware that Jamie's feelings ran deeper than hers did for him, and she did, in truth, love him very much, but not in the way that he deserved.

"I know," she whispered. "Thank you." She lifted her thumb and ran it over the top of his hand. "Thank you for everything." Her large brown eyes met his crystal blue ones.

"You're welcome," he replied with a wink that made her smile more genuine. "Anything you need, you got it."

He lifted their entwined hands and kissed the smooth skin of her knuckle. Isabella knew she shouldn't, and that it was totally unfair to her best friend, but she reveled in the feel of his touch. It was comforting, calming, and familiar, and she clung unashamedly to anything like that.

"And good luck for today," he murmured through an anxious throat as he ran a hand through his short blonde hair. "You're gonna be great."

He knew she would be. She was too determined to be anything but. She was her father's daughter after all. She smiled and nodded before releasing a long anxious breath. She hoped he was right because the truth was she was fucking terrified. Jamie knew this from the tension that he could see running through her jaw. To anyone else who didn't know her as well as he did, however, she looked utterly composed. It was a defensive trait, that she had down perfectly, but Jamie knew the signs well and it broke his heart.

"Has your mom called?" he asked as he sipped his Cherry Mocha. He had a sweet tooth and didn't give a shit what people thought about it, embracing it wholeheartedly, even if Isabella did find it _hilariously_ funny.

Isabella rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "About four times last night alone," she answered.

Jamie couldn't help but snigger. "She's worried, Bells. That's all. You know she means well."

"Mmhm," Isabella replied, utterly unconvinced. She loved her mother but she was just about ready to change all her numbers and every lock in her house if she didn't ease off. "Between her, you, and Leah, my head is about ready to explode!"

She cupped her temples jokingly and crossed her eyes making Jamie laugh louder. He couldn't help but feel relieved that she was joking on such a significant morning. This was the Isabella who made his heart soar the highest.

"Well," he exhaled with a shake of his head. "My sister is a pain in the ass so just ignore her." He waved his hand dismissively and winked.

Isabella laughed with him. She adored Leah too but she had to agree with him. She also 'meant well' but had been relentless with her texts and phone calls of concern over the past week, driving Isabella crazy.

"I told her I'll tell her all about it when I see her on Wednesday," she added, tracing her finger around the rim of her cup.

"Tennis?" Jamie asked with a knowing glance.

"Yeah," Isabella answered quickly with wide eyes. "It's war. The bitch kicked my ass last week!"

"I heard," Jamie spluttered into his drink. Isabella narrowed her stare and threw a napkin at him.

"Watch it, Damon," she warned quietly.

Jamie pulled an invisible zipper across his mouth and smiled at her. The use of his surname was warning enough for him. He knew she was playing but he also knew of her temper and fuck if he was about to mess with it. She may have appeared small and delicate on the outside, but on the inside, there was a fire that, once stoked, could turn into a raging inferno. It had been dormant for years, with small flickers here and there, but nothing like it used to be.

He had to admit to himself that he missed it. It was one of the things he loved most about her.

"Come on," Isabella sighed, standing from her seat and breaking Jamie from his thoughts. "Let's get this show on the road."

They finished their respective drinks as they always did every Monday morning, at the same coffee shop they had frequented since college, before making their way out and, after a brief kiss on the cheek, went their separate ways - he downtown and she towards her first day at her new job as English Literature tutor, at Arthur Kill Correctional Facility, Staten Island.

**Holy sexy PunkAssWard, Batman!**

**It's a slow burn. Stick with me.**

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**Leave me love…or hate…**

**TTFN xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**I am left amazed and truly humbled by the reaction to this story. Thank you.**

**Slow burn this one so thank you for sticking with me.**

**I don't own Twilight but PunkAssward owns me. See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 2: Decisions**

"_Commit a crime, and the earth is made of glass."~ __**Ralph Waldo Emerson**_

Isabella seated herself heavily into the driving seat of her Mini Cooper S outside the Belmont apartment building, where she lived, in the centre of Soho, and took a deep breath.

She had decided to drive to her new place of work for the first couple of weeks to allow herself some quiet time. It would take at least an hour in traffic but that hour was, for her, a precious window of preparation and reflection, two things that she felt were vitally important in her dealing with her new job.

She ran her palms around the steering wheel slowly before inserting the key in the ignition. She would be fine - she knew she would be - and dammit if she wasn't fucking determined to succeed.

She understood Jamie's concerns, of course, as well as her mother's…and Leah's. She was going to be tutoring men who had committed crimes ranging from armed robbery to drug offenses to vandalism.

But despite the words of caution from the people she loved, she knew, without doubt, that it was what she wanted to do.

Deep inside her, a sworn promise itched at her soul and would _not_ go away.

It had been there for the better part of sixteen years. It had been there the day she graduated from high school and started college and was still prevalent the day that she graduated with her English Literature major. Her mother had been so proud.

Teaching was what Isabella had wanted to do since she was nine years old and she had loved every second of it. She had traveled to London and China, teaching in private, exceptional schools that made her fall in love with the job more and more. She made friends, experienced other cultures and built enriching relationships that would never be broken, but she knew, deep down, that the $2,000 a semester facilities that she worked in, was not abiding by the promise she had made.

Yes, she was educating intelligent, hard working children but they were not the kind of individuals that she knew she was meant to help.

"We have to give back, Bells," her father had said and so the choice was made.

She _had_ considered taking a job at an inner city school but again that option did not scratch the relentless itch.

Working in a prison alongside criminals was what quelled it.

She had to be nearer to her fears, closer to understanding them and coping better with them. She hated her fear; she hated the root of it and was prepared and ready to face it head on.

She was terrified about what she would see and encounter and her therapist had been allsorts of anxious about her decision, asking over and over if she was happy with her choice, if she thought it was the right choice for her and why.

Isabella answered as she always did with candor and passion. It was _her_ choice to make - no one else's and whatever the outcome, she would live with it because she knew what it would have meant to her father.

As with everything in Isabella's life, once the decision was made there was no going back.

The only comfort she took from the route she had chosen for herself was that her father would no doubt be proud of her and that was the thought that accompanied her, along with the blaring rock music from her stereo, as she drove steadily towards Arthur Kill.

The building was as she expected. Tall look out towers surrounded by wreaths of vicious barbed wire fencing, guards on patrol with dogs and an interrogation from the officer at the car lot entrance.

"I'm Isabella Swan. I'm here for an appointment with Mike Newton," she said as the officer eyed her and the inside of her car with a suspicious glare.

"ID and appointment sheet," he barked, making her jump slightly before rifling through her bag for her driving license and letter that she had printed off her computer that morning. She handed them both to the guard and sat back in her seat, feeling her palms sweat against the leather at the sides of her thighs.

"One moment," he offered as he disappeared back into his little office hut to no doubt make a phone call. Isabella blew out a long breath through her lips and began playing an unidentifiable beat with her hands against the steering wheel.

_Breathe, Bells. Just breathe._

He was back within two minutes, handing her back her license and sheet, directing her through the gates towards the left of the morose looking building, telling her that Mr. Newton would be waiting for her at the reception desk.

"Thank you," she murmured with a weak smile to which he simply dipped his hat.

She drove through, glancing over to her left to see inmates playing basketball behind a huge metal fence, their blue overalls tied at the waist leaving some of them in white t-shirts and others bare-chested in the hot July sunshine. She couldn't help but notice how ordinary they looked as they played. She wasn't exactly sure what she had expected them to be doing or even what they would look like but the men she saw looked normal enough.

She parked up, ran a nervous hand through her hair and picked up the black, leather bound case that Jamie had bought her for her first teaching job in London. She slid her cell out of the front pocket and smiled when she saw a text from him.

**You'll be great. Be safe. Call me later. J x**

She sent him a quick reply promising she would, flicked it on silent and got out of the car, locking it with a click of the fob. The walk to the front entrance seemed miles long, especially when she heard the distinct sound of wolf whistles and catcalls originating from the basketball court that she had found so standard.

Yes, she thought, they were just regular men.

She dropped her head slightly, hurried her step and grabbed the handle of the large door like a lifeline, practically falling through the damn thing. Cursing and pushing her hair back with a flustered hand, she was greeted by a small humored cough. She looked up to see Mike Newton, a man of about thirty-five, dressed in a grey pinstripe suit. His dark blonde hair was spiked within an inch of its life but his face was round and retained some of his youth, a fact that Newton was proud of, especially since he standing looking at the beautiful brunette who had just tripped through the door.

"Miss Swan," he said as he extended his hand for her to take.

Isabella tried to compose herself by running her free palm down her knee length charcoal skirt before shaking his hand firmly. _Fucking heels…_

"Mr. Newton."

The firmness of her grip did not surprise Mike Newton. He knew whose daughter she was. The one thing that did surprise him however was the idea that a girl such as she, with all her opportunities, beauty and wealth, would want to work in place such as Arthur Kill.

Her resume had been outstanding as had been the references that accompanied it. She was a good teacher, of that there was no doubt, but her lack of prison experience troubled him. She would have to prove herself and fast. Her looks, of course, could also be a problem. He had heard the reaction of the inmates as she walked across the lot. He did however agree with them unreservedly. He chanced another look at her long, pale legs and the black heels they disappeared into.

She was a fine looking young woman. He had thought so from the first time they had met at her interview.

After handing her an ID badge he led her towards his office and watched her as she took her seat quickly, opposite him across his desk.

"So, you found us ok?" he asked trying to break the ice as he swiveled his chair around to look at her.

She smiled and nodded holding back the most obvious answer to his obvious question

"Good." He cleared his throat and fingered the pen that was lying on the mahogany desk. Mike Newton wasn't one for small talk, even if the speaking partner _was_ a hot brunette who - he couldn't help but imagine - would look insane spread out all over his desk.

"So," he began, clearing his throat and shifting in his leather chair, trying like hell to ease the ache in his groin. "Today will be all about settling you in and showing you around, giving you a lay of the land and of course introducing you to the men that you will be tutoring."

Isabella swallowed hard but hid it well. She pulled her BlackBerry from her case and began to make notes. Organization was of paramount importance to Isabella Swan. Jamie said that she was definitely OCD which, after disputing vehemently, she was beginning to agree with more and more.

"The rules within the facility, as you know, for every tutor," Mr. Newton continued. "Is that there will be no more than six inmates in your classes at any one time. Any more than that and it poses a safety risk."

He wondered if his words would have any effect on her but he saw none. Isabella disguised the panic within herself well. I'm fine, she repeated silently to herself. She had read and signed a contract that explained the security and safety aspects of the job; a contract that both her mother and Jamie had gone over with a fine toothcomb, much to her annoyance.

"And as previously discussed, there will be a guard assigned to each of your classes; you will be given a security pass and a code for the doors that you will use most frequently."

She nodded again and glanced from him to the window behind him, seeing fields and trees that wouldn't have looked out of place in a farm magazine. It seemed an odd paradox to her; the freedom and the incarceration.

"Do you have any questions before I show you around?" he asked, steepling his hands under his chin, noticing her eyes wander past him to the outside.

"I was wondering about the curriculum that I would be using," she answered as her gaze snapped back to his. "Are there any stipulations? Anything I should know about what I can teach and what I can't?"

Mr. Newton shook his head. "I received your syllabus proposition and it appears to be fine."

In fact, it was exceedingly impressive.

"As previously discussed, the curriculum is yours to do with as you wish. As long as it sticks to the national structure and it meets the learning needs of everyone, I have no problem with what you do with them."

"And what about the ability levels of the…inmates?"

She stumbled annoyingly over the last word of her question simply because she wasn't sure if it was the right word to use. She assumed it was, considering he had used it first.

"I received the email with their ability records attached but I was wondering if there had been any changes?"

"Not so far," he answered with a shake of his head. "There is always the chance of a late entry into any class but so far the records, for yours, are still the same. I'll obviously let you know if and when that alters in any way."

Isabella was relieved, as she had worked tirelessly on her original curriculum to make sure the levels of her students were met. She was meticulous in her work and it was one of the main reasons she had been hired so quickly.

"Anything else?" he asked with a small smile.

"No, I don't think so," she answered with a shake of her head.

"You'll do fine, Miss Swan. I know this must seem very daunting to you but believe me, we wouldn't have hired you if we had any doubts."

She appreciated his confidence and allowed herself to take a deep calming breath. Mr. Newton slapped his hands to his thighs before standing up and gesturing for Isabella to walk towards the door.

"Shall we?" he asked with a smile.

She nodded and made her way out into the corridor. She followed him once again, taking in the sterile walls, thick security glass doors and bars that reminded her constantly of where she was. She had never been more appreciative of air conditioning as she was when they left the sweltering hallway and made their way into a large room that was set out like a normal school staff room. Tables, chairs and a coffee percolator were all in attendance, as well as some banal, old style magazines and newspapers.

"You can use this room to plan, chill, vent, whatever," Mr. Newton joked as he pushed his hands into his pants pockets. "All the other tutors do, so feel free to join them."

A small, black haired girl with dark rimmed glasses approached them with a wide smile from across the room.

"This is Angela Weber," Mr. Newton said while gesturing between the two. "Angela, this is Isabella Swan, the new Lit tutor."

"A pleasure," Angela smiled as she shook Isabella's hand.

"Likewise," she replied honestly, taking in the comfortable shoes, baggy pants and Henley shirt that Angela wore.

"Angela is one of our tutor assistants, specializing in Special Educational Needs with focus on English and Philosophy and she'll be able to answer any questions that you have about your inmates. She'll also be present for all your classes to aid you in anyway she can."

"That's great," Isabella said with a breath of relief. "I appreciate any help you can give me."

"Well, I can't promise all the answers but I will do my best to make this easier for you and for the students."

Angela had always been modest. She was exceedingly good at her job for the simple reason that she spoke to the inmates as people and not animals like Mike Newton did. As good as he was at his job; his megalomaniacal streak irritated the shit out of her.

Because of her attitude the inmates gravitated to her. Newton found it almost ridiculous that she waxed lyrical about respect and reform but he couldn't deny that she made his life a damn sight easier, helping him out of a couple of heated moments with certain incarcerated individuals who had found his arrogance as fuck annoying as she did.

Isabella was still standing before Angela, surprised at her use of the word students when Mr. Newton had used the word inmates every time they had spoken of the men she would tutor. Angela's attitude to the job was noticeably different to his and Isabella found herself liking it.

If it was one thing that concerned her most about the job, it was seeing the inmates as _people_ and not the beast like fuckers that a dark, furious part of her wanted to.

These men aren't the same, she told herself, replaying the words of her therapist. They weren't the men she hated. They weren't there that night. She couldn't allow herself to tar them with the same brush. Yes, they had committed their crimes but they were paying for them. They were paying their debts, just as she was.

They aren't the same she repeated silently. She knew better than that.

It would just take time.

Mr. Newton and Angela showed her more of the facility, including her classroom that was a one windowed, two-door, space that Isabella noticed had a panic line running around every wall. There was an interactive board but no computer. She had been told that she could use her laptop whenever she needed and that 'tech' would hook her up on request.

"So, as I'm sure Mike has explained, I've set up a meet with the students that you will be tutoring," Angela said softly as they walked down another colorless corridor towards a large security door.

"Yes," Isabella replied as she followed them both through it.

"I think it's a good idea to make introductions, just so the students aren't taken off guard by a new face. Routine is paramount to these men. That's all they have while they are here and sometimes a new face can be upsetting for them."

Isabella took another breath that shook out of her when Angela's hand touched her forearm.

"You'll be fine. They'll like you, I can tell already. And believe me; the guys in your class are great. I helped with the list. I wouldn't give you any assholes." She laughed lightly making Isabella relax further.

"Ok," she murmured as she tucked her hair behind her ears.

"Just be yourself. They can smell bullshit a mile off." Isabella suppressed a laugh as Angela's eyes flickered towards Mr. Newton as the word bullshit passed her lips.

Yes, she thought, she and Angela were going to get along just fine.

They seated themselves at one side of a large, white plastic table upon which Angela placed four folders, each with a name tag and a number.

"These are your students," she said happily. "All of them are serving different sentences for crimes ranging from armed robbery, drug abuse violations, grand theft auto, burglary, and vandalism." She pointed at a folder every time she mentioned an offense.

Isabella recognized the names from the class list she had been emailed and found she was immediately anxious to read what their folders had to say about them.

"Our first meet should be here any minute."

Angela glanced at her watch as the door opened and Isabella was faced with the largest man she had ever seen. He was at least six-five with shoulders that would put Atlas to shame. Upon his head was a mass of curls that framed a cherubic face that wouldn't look out of place on a five year old. His chest was wide and solid, and the cuffs around his wrists, Isabella thought, looked utterly futile and pathetic should he show the strength that was no doubt present in his mammoth arms.

Angela stood and smiled at the giant. "Emmett," she said warmly as the guard at Emmett's side ushered him to his seat and un-cuffed him.

"What's up, Angie Pange?" he retorted, offering his fist for her to bump which she did with gusto.

"Same old, same old," she replied with a shrug, "Can't complain."

"Can't or won't," he asked with a wink.

Isabella couldn't help but notice Mr. Newton's eye roll at the exchange but found she smiled in spite of it. Emmett threw a narrowed eyed stare at Newton, who shifted slightly in his seat.

_Yeah, motherfucker_, Emmett thought to himself, _you pussy assed bitch_.

"S'up, Newt?" he asked with a backward tilt of his head, noticing that the expensive suit had been brought out for a Summer airing. "Nice pinstripe."

"Thank you, Emmett," he replied in a flat monotone, wrapped up in a forced smile.

His face belied the annoyance and aggravation he held for inmate 091324. He was a cocky son of a bitch and Newton hated that he was afraid of him, but Christ, he was a big fucker.

"And who the fuck is this delicious specimen?" Emmett asked with a wink in Isabella's direction.

His eyes roamed up and down her but weirdly she didn't feel uncomfortable. Something about the sparkle in his eye made her believe that it was his way of introducing himself.

There was no malice in his eyes, only light and mischief.

"Emmett," Angela warned with a small smirk on her lips.

"What?" he asked with a face so innocent that Isabella couldn't help but smile.

"This is your new Literature tutor Miss Swan. Miss Swan, this is Emmett McCarty."

"The one and only, baby," he finished for her while nodding and smiling at Isabella. He noticed a slight blush on her cheeks and grinned. _Oh, she's a cutey…_

"So, you teach, huh?"

Isabella cleared her throat. "I do," she answered.

"Well, that's fucking excellent. I thought all you tutor types had to be, ya know," he shrugged with a sniff, "fugly bastards with buck teeth?"

Isabella laughed lightly and pressed her hands to her thighs. "I'm not so sure about that," she offered.

"I do," he answered quickly. "But you…" he whistled. "I think Lit just became my fave fucking subject. Nice goin' Newt!"

"Emmett," he warned from under his brow.

"Pssshhh," Emmett replied with a wave of his palm and nothing else in Newton's direction. "So, Miss Swan…" He leaned his elbows onto the table between them. "Seeing as you just became my _fave_ tutor of my new _fave_ subject, you need anything or anyone gives you shit," he pointed to his large chest. "You come to me, ok?"

Isabella paused, taking in the expression on his face for any indication that he was bullshitting her. She saw none.

"Ok," she smiled back at him, ignoring Mr. Newton's exasperated exhale and the overwhelming urge he had to suddenly crush the bastard's wind pipe with his boot.

"Sweet," he replied with a nod and a slap of his palm on the table, before sitting back in his seat.

She was cool. Angela smiled at him and winked knowingly. If Ange vouched for her then, he knew, Miss Swan _had_ to be golden, it was just a shame that all the other supposed intelligent tutors weren't as such.

Emmett McCarty had a lot of patience - considering his size and criminal history - but if it was one thing that grated on his damn nerves; one thing that made his fists clench and his teeth grind, it was snobby, arrogant people. Mike Newton was a case in fucking point. He hated that asshole, as did pretty much every fucker in the facility. He glanced at the smarmy fuck one last time and rejoiced inwardly when he saw him drop his eyes from his quickly.

_That's right bitch. Who's Papa Bear?_

Emmett was and Newton knew it.

Emmett stayed for no more than five minutes after the initial introduction and once he was escorted out, Angela went on to explain that he was serving time for grand theft auto.

"He loves his cars," she said with a small smile. "He's extremely intelligent when it comes to machines but struggles with dyslexia. He tries hard but gets frustrated but I think, being his new 'fave tutor,' you shouldn't have any problems."

Isabella smiled and made a note on her class list about Emmett's needs. Angela handed her a piece of his work so that she could see his ability for herself before the next student came in.

His name was Sam Uley and was serving time for drug violations. He was a small, quiet character of about twenty-one; the complete polar opposite of the giant who had just left but he seemed pleasant enough. He said very little but his eyes spoke volumes.

His dark russet skin was flawless and his hair hung shoulder length behind his ears. He was polite and smiled meekly at Isabella every time she spoke to him. She reminded him of his girl back home and he knew instantly that he was going to like being in her class.

"Do you like to poetry, Miss Swan?" he asked her gently as he fingered the middle popper button of his overalls.

I expect she likes Dickinson and Rossetti, he mused silently.

Isabella smiled and nodded. "I do. Very much," she answered. "Do you?"

Sam smiled wistfully, "Very much._ 'Beauty be not caused - It is…'_"

Isabella smiled wider. "You like Emily Dickinson?"

Sam nodded and felt his cheeks burn. "I do."

"Me too," Isabella confessed. "She's one of my favorites." She breathed, glancing down at the table before looking back at Sam who seemed to be silently congratulating himself about something.

"'_Hope is the thing with feathers_,'" she murmured softly, feeling the tightening in her chest at the words of a poem that her father loved.

"'_That perches in the soul_,'" Sam uttered without hesitation.

"'_And sings the tune without the words_…'" Isabella continued.

"'_And never stops—at all._'" Sam glanced up at her and smiled again. The twinkle in his eye covered his entire pupil.

Isabella laughed lightly. "Well, Sam, let's _hope_ so."

"Yes, Miss Swan," he agreed. His smile was wider and his step was a lot lighter as he left the room.

"Sam is actually an English graduate," Angela said once he had left.

Isabella gaped at her even though her words did not really surprise her. "What is he doing in my class?" she asked in panic.

Angela smiled and waved her off. "He loves to write and he's exceptionally good at it. But he doesn't like the other students to know so, keep it to yourself. Other tutors in the past have struggled to get him to open up. That's the most I've heard Sam say in a long time." She winked at Isabella and moved to the next folder.

Quil Embry was twenty-three and was serving time for burglary. He was definitely a cocky little shit and he didn't hold back his asshole charm from Isabella, telling her he'd make sure he dropped his pen on the floor just for her. Isabella wasn't sure what he had meant until she saw him checking out her ass as she leaned over to retrieve a new pen from her case.

She would have to keep an eye on him. Maybe Emmett could help her out.

She smiled to herself.

They were two minutes into talking to Tyler Crowley, Isabella's final student, when a flustered looking guard entered the room.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Newton," he said, a little out of breath. "But we have a situation in study room forty-three." He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

"Who?" Newton asked as he rose from his seat.

"Cullen," the guard replied with an exasperated sigh.

"Fuck's sake," Newton murmured. He didn't need that little shit causing him problems today. He threw a daggered glare at Crowley who had begun laughing quietly into his chest.

"I'll be back," he said to Isabella and Angela who smiled knowingly at the expression on Newton's face.

"Take your time," Angela answered, not looking up from the file in front of her but unable to keep the smug smile from her face.

Newton huffed and followed the guard out into the corridor. Isabella looked between Angela and Tyler as they continued to snigger and chuckle.

"Cullen?" Isabella asked quietly with a cocked eyebrow. Tyler Crowley snorted loudly into his hand.

"She ain't met Cullen yet?" he asked Angela incredulously while pointing a thumb in Isabella's direction.

"Oh, I'm sure she will," she replied with a wink, leaving Isabella three parts alarmed, confused and utterly intrigued.

=PoF=

Cullen was sitting in the seat that he had been shoved in twenty minutes before, leg bouncing earnestly while biting the inside of his bottom lip. His head throbbed with the blood that pounded through it mixed with the adrenaline that gave him a natural high. He glared at the guard who was standing by the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" he snarled at him.

Guard Casto shrugged and raised one eyebrow. _Punk Ass dick_, he thought to himself, _always fucking drama with this kid. I'm getting too old for this shit._

He sighed in relief when the door opened, allowing Newton and Head Guard Yorkie into the room.

"Fucking A," Cullen grumbled to himself. Just let that Newton asshole say something to me today. He'll be breathing through his right nut if he so much as looks at me wrong.

Newton placed his hands on his hips and exhaled. "What's going on, Cullen?" he asked after a moment in as calm a tone as he could manage. He knew from their past…meetings that he was an erratic fucker who had a temper that could boil water.

"Fuck all," he replied with a smirk. His leg became still and his whole demeanor changed to one of dangerous quiet. Newton eyed him nervously.

_Shit…_

"Cullen, Guard Foster says that you assaulted your Philosophy tutor," Yorkie interrupted.

_Yeah, he fucking would have said that…_

"I didn't assault him," Edward snapped. "I didn't touch the fucking idiot."

"He begs to differ," Yorkie retorted.

"He can beg all he fucking wants. I didn't touch him!"

Newton sighed, holding a hand up to Yorkie to stop him from biting back and pulled out the chair opposite Cullen so he could sit down.

"Look, Cullen, just explain to me what happened." He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees.

Cullen moaned in annoyance and rolled his eyes at his attempts at coercion. He remained quiet for a couple of minutes before giving in to the deafening silence and expectation that filled the room.

"He was spouting a fuck load of shit about society and some of its 'individuals.'"

He highlighted his disdain by motioning quotation marks with his fingers. "And he pissed me off. I said I wanted to leave and he said I couldn't."

"And," Newton encouraged, even though he knew exactly what had gone on from seeing the video clip of the confrontation.

"So, I pushed my chair at him." Cullen shrugged, staring Newton down - daring him to say something cocky and self righteous.

This was what it was like every time the two men were in a room together. Cullen would stare and Newton would stare right back. It was a test of wills, they both knew, but Cullen felt safe in the knowledge that he had won each encounter they had had so far and would fucking win this one too.

Newton was a prick - everyone thought so - and Cullen despised the fact that the cunt thought he was better than everyone else because he wore a fancy pinstripe suit. But as a wise man once said; a suit does not a man make.

Newton sat back in his seat and leaned his forearm on the table next to him, keeping his eyes firmly on Cullen's, even though he was desperate to look away. But like a snake and his prey his eyes were fixed. He wasn't entirely sure which part he would play in that scenario.

What Cullen had described was exactly what he had seen on the security video clip which Yorkie hadn't. He hadn't assaulted Mr. Banner but he hadn't simply 'pushed' the chair either. The dent in the wall would vouch for that shit.

"Cullen," he sighed, dropping his eyes from the white hot stare across the table. "You can't keep behaving this way just because you disagree with what your tutor says." He was sick to the back teeth of the little fucker acting like a petulant teenager whenever someone said something he didn't agree with.

"I have a right to say how I feel," Cullen retorted.

"Yes, you do," Newton agreed even though the words tasted like ass on his tongue.

If he had his way the whole lot of them would be gagged and tied to the chairs just so _his_ life was made easier.

"But you can't throw chairs at people either. There are_ rules_. You know this."

"Whatever," Cullen mumbled, kicking the leg of the table.

Newton dropped his voice and eyed Cullen once more. "Garrett assured me that you were going to behave. That is one condition of you doing these classes that I will not back down on." He pointed at Cullen and immediately regretted it.

Cullen's eyes met Newton's in such a way that Newton couldn't help but swallow hard. There was so much fire behind the green of them that he almost expected to be fried on the spot.

"Well, that's one thing we have in common, isn't it?" Cullen growled. "Neither of us backs down for shit."

Newton cleared his throat and exhaled down his nose._ Shitkicker_. His fear annoyed the hell out of him. He was older than him and wiser too. There was no reason to fear him. He sighed and dropped his head to the right in an utterly patronizing way, fighting back the only way he knew how. Hit the fucker where it hurt.

"You will be escorted back to your cell where you will be kept for the next twenty four hours. No exceptions."

"I have a friend visit this afternoon," Cullen warned him, feeling his blood start to boil when he saw the look of satisfaction that crossed Newton's face.

"And it will be rescheduled," Newton retorted.

The chains that held Cullen's hands and the guards around him were certainly tested as he lunged at Newton to smack the shit out of his smug bitch face. He got close too, his finger tips whispering across the lapel of the expensive pinstripe. Newton stumbled back against Yorkie, feeling the panic build in his chest.

"You fuck!" Cullen yelled as the guards restrained him back in his seat.

He got one visit a week and it had been three since his last one, from his cousin Jasper, which was strained to say the very fucking least. It stung and Newton fucking knew it. He hadn't seen Jake for two months and although he would never admit it, he needed to see a familiar face.

He had been looking forward to seeing his friend and finding out what shit he had been up to, and that he was still looking after his 'baby'. Jake was the only motherfucker on the planet that Cullen would let near the 'love of his life.'

He gave up his struggle, knowing that it was fruitless and that it was simply wasting energy that he didn't have and slumped into his seat never taking his eyes from Mike Newton as he slunk like a coward from the room.

_It's on fucker…_

=PoF=

Isabella picked up her cell and pressed the green button with a smile.

"Hey," she sang down the receiver as she pressed the lock on the key fob for her car.

"Hey you, how did it go?" Jamie asked as he climbed the steps of the subway.

"It went…really good. I think," she replied with a small smile. She had to admit to herself that she felt a hundred times better now that she had met her students and had made an ally in Angela.

"That's great," he answered as he stood at the edge of the kerb, trying to flag a damn cab. "Look I'm not far from you and it's been a hell of a day. How about dinner? My treat and you can tell me all about it."

"Sure," she answered as she climbed into the elevator of her building. "Come over and we'll order in. Is that ok?"

"I'll be there in ten," Jamie said with a smile.

Isabella had time to change into sweats, put her hair up and have a cup of Chinese herbal tea before Jamie arrived at her door with pizza. She smiled at his choice of cheese and tomato with added onion – her favorite. They situated themselves on her chocolate leather couch in front of the TV and ate comfortably.

"So," Jamie encouraged as he took a sip of his beer. "Tell me. You said it went well?"

Isabella nodded and tucked her legs underneath herself. "Yeah, it did. My new boss is…whatever but I met my assistant Angela who seems great. She introduced me to all my students and they all appeared to be fine. There is one guy – Emmett – who was very…friendly."

She couldn't help but smile to herself as she thought of the giant who was probably her 'fave' student already – next to Sam. Jamie felt his stomach tighten slightly at her use of the word friendly - hoping to fuck that it wasn't a euphemism for something else - but was puzzled to shit that she then smiled.

"What do you mean friendly?" he asked quietly as he shifted in his seat so he could face her.

"He was just…friendly. He's in for grand theft auto and is apparently a genius when it comes to all types of machines. He has dyslexia and he's definitely a character."

"Right," Jamie said still confused. "So, there was no trouble, no problems?"

"No," she shook her head as she sipped her wine. "Well, apart from Quil who I'm sure will try to be a handful but he's harmless - all mouth. And there was a situation with a guy named Cullen."

Isabella felt herself relax as she spoke about her students feeling more and more confident about the day and her upcoming first week. Emmett was definitely going to be interesting and Sam Uley…she reminded herself quietly to take him her Emily Dickinson anthology to read.

"Who?" Jamie asked trying hard to keep the concern from his voice as all the names she rhymed off started to fumble in his head. She didn't answer.

"Bells, what did this _Quil_ say?" he asked quickly.

Isabella looked at him in surprise, losing herself in her thoughts as she was known to do.

"Nothing, really, I think he has a thing for asses," she answered with a smirk and a roll of her eyes.

_Oh, fucking does he?_

"Is that right?" Jamie grumbled into the neck of his beer bottle.

"Yeah," she retorted, noticing his protective expression. "He's just young and cocky."

"And there was a…situation?"

Isabella shrugged. "I'm not sure what happened but Mr. Newton had to leave to go and deal with it and he _did not_ look happy. Angela said I would meet 'Cullen' soon enough, whatever the hell that means."

Jamie returned her smile but couldn't seem to swallow down the lump of anxiety that had suddenly wedged itself firmly into his stomach. He was worried. He couldn't fucking help it. He loved Isabella and hated to think of her in any risky situation. He knew that he was being possessive and stupid to think that she wouldn't be protected from the fuckers behind bars but he still felt utterly stressed out.

"Hey," she said suddenly when she noticed the frown that had appeared gradually above Jamie's eyes.

He looked at her in surprise.

"Stop it," she ordered, dropping her chin to her chest while still looking at him.

"Stop what?" he asked innocently.

"Stop thinking whatever it is that you're thinking."

He exhaled and grimaced, pulling his tie from around his neck and throwing it over the back of the couch, "Bells-…"

"No," she interrupted him. "Shit, Jay, I thought we'd gotten past this." She slapped her palm to her leg in frustration.

"I know," he breathed, dropping his head in shame. He needed to have more faith in her, he knew. "It's just…"

"Just what?" she interrupted again; her eyes wide in annoyance while the fire licked at her irises.

_Shit, she is definitely mad_.

"You're worried?" she continued rhetorically. "I know you are but I was fine. I _am_ fine. I'm actually the most fine I've felt in a while."

"I know but…"

"I felt like I actually achieved something today, Jamie," she confessed quietly. "There was one student…Sam who quoted fucking Dickinson at me. The _Hope_ poem, Jay, like he had it written there right in front of him…" she exhaled and dropped further back into her seat.

That stopped him in his tracks. Charles loved that poem. He looked at her face and breathed in deeply. _Dammit she is beautiful._ She dropped her eyes from his almost as if she could read his mind and shifted back in her seat. He copied the movement, moving towards her, placing his beer on the table in front of them.

"Talk to me," he urged, suddenly feeling like a shit friend. She didn't answer and instead sipped from her wine glass.

"Isabella, please," he begged, moving closer still. "I'm sorry for being a dick. I really am but I…," he paused when her eyes met his. "I care for you and I want you to be safe. That's all. I'm thrilled that you did well, and that you enjoyed it, truly I am. But don't get mad at me for worrying about my best friend."

She dropped her shoulders in defeat at his words and smiled meekly at him.

"I'm not mad, Jamie. And I love that you care so much. I care about you too."

His heart stuttered at her words.

"But I'm doing this," she whispered determinedly. "I_ have_ to. I made a promise. You know that."

He did know. She had told him about it the morning they woke up in bed together when they were seventeen. He swallowed at the memory pushing his desires down into his stomach, praying they wouldn't get as far as his cock. It was the first time they had slept together but it wasn't the last, although they never spoke about it – _ever._ It hurt but he didn't push her.

He was there when she needed him, as he had promised and it had been left at that.

"I'm doing this for _him_ too," she sighed. "I owe it to him." She never said her father's name or even used the term Dad. It still upset her too much.

Jamie tried to understand the debt that she seemed to feel that she owed him and he supported her as much as he could but fuck if she hadn't made it hard with this decision. He placed his hand on her knee and squeezed gently.

"You took a big step today, Bells, I know he'd be proud of you."

She nodded with her eyes on his hand. "Yeah," she croaked. "I hope so."

"Come here," he said softly, opening his arms for her.

She hesitated for a moment before snuggling into his side and reveling in his warmth as he wrapped himself around her, kissing her hair softly. She loved him very much and appreciated his protectiveness more than she dared to admit, but theirs was a strange relationship. They had been through a lot together but had never taken the step to actually _be_ together exclusively - not that both of their mothers wouldn't fucking love that idea.

He was_ her_ Jamie, he was tender, soft and caring and that, for now, was enough She knew she was a selfish bitch but she couldn't help it. She needed him and she knew that he needed her too and as long as that was fact, nothing would change. Other things in her life _were_ changing and she hoped that he would stick with her through them. It was going to be a difficult transition into her new job and she'd need him more than ever.

Jamie rubbed his palm down her bare arm, trying to relax her. He loved the feel of having her so near to him, even if it _did_ make him a masochistic son of a bitch. He couldn't help it. The feel of her warmth, her skin, and her smell made him feel whole. She was his best friend and the woman that he had loved since he was twelve and they had shared their first kiss together.

He would have to be supportive of her choice because the thought of the alternative terrified him. He couldn't be without her. He had lived as her best friend, part time lover and confidante but never anything more. It was a difficult balancing act but he was used to it.

Isabella had demons that kept her walls up and, even though he knew she told him everything, the wall around her heart never relented for him. She just wouldn't let him in like that. He had resigned himself to the chance that the walls would never crumble and as hard as that was to accept he also knew that he would much rather have her snuggled into his side with her walls up than not in his life at all.

=PoF=

Cullen lay on his back, hands behind his head, staring at the cracks that ran down the centre of the ceiling above his cell. He had calmed down since watching Newton strut his cocky bitch ass out of the room after telling him he couldn't have his friend visit. He would bide his time. Newton would pay for today - of that, Cullen was damn certain.

The sounds of B wing had ebbed in the last twenty minutes since the lights had been dimmed and, as he did every night, he allowed himself to drift back in time to memories that were a fuckton better than the present and the place he was now stuck in.

He closed his eyes and sighed as he thought back to nights out with Jake and his crew, laughing and causing trouble around the streets of New York, cruising down to Brooklyn and the Bronx. The taste of beer in Battery Park, and the smooth sensation of cigarette smoke as it drifted down his throat. The feeling of having a woman in his arms, moving, grinding, warm, soft, wet, and smelling like….sweet fruit.

Fuck, it had been so long. He shifted his hips at the thought.

"Peaches," he whispered to himself as the visions appeared behind his closed eyelids.

_Dark wavy hair that smelled of peaches, warm and fresh under his nose, in his face, all around him._

He saved that particular memory for nights, such as this one - in a darkness that seemed to last forever - because he knew - as he had for nearly sixteen years - the thought of peaches, chocolate hair, and blue dresses, never failed to send him into a relaxed, dreamless sleep.

**Holy hell the plot thickens, Batman!**

**Leave me love…or hate…**

**TTFN xx  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**So, thank you so much again for your words of love and support for this story and thank you for the notes about the vanishing indicators! I hope these new ones work!**

**It means so much that you are enjoying this – even with the slow burn…but hey, our kids have got to meet eventually…**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 3: Introductions**

"_Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending._" ~ **Maria Robinson **

Cullen woke having slept soundly; a fact that surprised him. He had, he thought, maybe worn himself out with all his plotting against Mike fucking Newton. He had smiled to himself, as he took his morning piss, about all the things he'd love to do to the motherfucker. The shit head really had no idea who he was messing with.

He was to stay in his cell until four – _two fucking hours to go_ - which was when his twenty-four hour punishment was over. Garrett had been to see him earlier with a rescheduled friend visit for Jake and a disappointed look on his face, which made Cullen's insides clench.

Garrett had hated rearranging the meeting, knowing that Jake Black was no good for Edward - but he did it anyway. The phone call to one Carlisle Cullen had been the kicker however.

Even though Carlisle's words had been accepting of his son's rejection, the tone in his voice told Garrett a completely different story. He was devastated, it was clear and, being a father himself, it infuriated Garrett that Edward couldn't see it; instead seeing his father as someone other, than a man that cared deeply for his son and his well being.

Carlisle Cullen hadn't seen his only child for over a year and it tore him to pieces. Edward and he had always had a tenuous relationship. They were far too alike and Edward blamed him for things that he never allowed Carlisle to explain fully. He was too hot headed – like his damned mother – and it was with that comment and a slammed door that Carlisle had left his son's apartment fifteen months before, without another word, hearing about his most recent arrest through a neighbour.

Part of him understood why Edward hated him so much - he was damn sure not going to win any father of the year awards - but he still hoped for some kind of reconciliation and that's exactly what he told Garrett.

Garrett had tried to be as reassuring as he could be but he knew he was talking complete shit. Edward only wanted to see Jake. Garrett knew, even if Edward didn't say it, that he missed his friend and Garrett wanted to do all he could to help him. He was fond of the kid and hated seeing him so morose. He had, in their more recent meetings, tried to dial back on the more invasive questions into Edward's thoughts about his father and the rest of his family but, like the stubborn fool he was, he wasn't going to stop completely.

Cullen had - as much as he tried to deny it - appreciated Garrett's gesture, given how he had been so fucking verbose about his thoughts on Jake and once again he kicked himself for acting like an asshole with his councillor.

He just couldn't seem to switch his cocky shit mouth off.

"So, I take it we don't like Philosophy?" Garrett had said with a small smirk.

Cullen smirked back. "You _could_ say that."

Garrett nodded towards his shoes and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks for the shit storm from Mike Newton, by the way. I owe you big time for that."

Newton had barged into his office, the day before, acting like King Dick and demanding that Garrett speak to Cullen and warn him that he was walking on thin ice.

"It's your job to talk to him about shit like this," he had yelled with an accusatory finger in his direction. "So do your job and talk to him! He can't keep behaving like this; I don't give a fuck who his connections are!"

It had taken all of the calming exercises that Garrett had learned in his twenty-plus years as a councillor to stop himself from grabbing the prick and smashing his face into the desk between them.

"I'll see what I can do," he had growled back, clenching the arms of his chair, wishing to all hell that it was Newton's neck. He had stormed back out of the office, muttering something about a _goddamn incident report_ before slamming the door behind him so hard that it made the pictures of Garrett's wife and daughter shake across the wall.

"Cock," Garrett murmured under his breath at the memory.

"About that," Cullen mumbled, feeling like just that for causing the trouble that Garrett found himself in because of _his_ behaviour, "My bad."

It wasn't a full apology but fuck if that was the closest Garrett would get from Edward Cullen.

"Yes, it is," Garrett agreed with a nod before slapping his hands to his hips. "Jeez, Edward, you're better than that."

Cullen sighed despondently and pulled his knees up to his chest as he remained sitting on his bed. "The guy was talking shit, Garrett. He deserved it."

"Well, whatever your reasons, you have a lot of making up to do."

"Oh yeah?" Cullen asked raising an eyebrow at his councillor.

"Yeah," Garrett answered back quickly, not in the mood for his assholery. "I've enrolled you for Literature. I know you like to read." He gestured to the shelves on the right wall of the cell that were littered with battered copies of texts even_ he_ hadn't heard of. "And the tutor is a woman so...maybe there won't be as much...hostility."

"Hostility?" Cullen repeated with a small smile.

"You know what I mean, Edward," Garrett snapped back. "You promised you'd try, so prove to me you are. I had to kiss that son of a ..." he bit his tongue and glanced around himself quickly. "I had to speak nice to Newton to let him give you another chance so don't tell me I've wasted my time here."

Cullen sighed and sat forward, running his hands through the chaos on his head. It was a sign of stress that Garrett rarely saw and it concerned him.

He watched the young man for a moment, wanting so much to see what was going on inside his complex head. For all of his showboating, Edward Cullen did have chinks in his armour. They weren't shown often but when they were it was uncomfortable for all involved.

"You'll do fine, Edward," Garrett said quietly, moving a step closer towards him on the bed.

The guard behind him shifted too.

"Yeah," Cullen muttered, into his chest. He looked up and smiled slightly. "We'll see, won't we?"

He couldn't explain it – _not that he wanted to_ - but even after his long ass sleep he was still feeling tired. The walls had started to close around him ever so slightly and it was making his head feel heavy. Nineteen hours locked in one room could do that to a man – even him.

"Wednesday morning," Garrett said with an encouraging nod. "The tutor is a Miss Swan. She's very good. We won't have time for a meet with her so…try to be…" He struggled to find the right word. "Just try, ok?"

Cullen laughed with an exhale hard down his nose and nodded. "Ok," he mimicked, holding up three fingers, "Scout's honour."

Garrett smirked at the gesture as he turned to leave the cell.

"And just to be safe," he muttered with a quick look back over his shoulder towards Cullen. "I've made sure all the chairs in that particular classroom have been bolted to the fucking floor."

Cullen couldn't help but laugh loudly at his councillor's language. He had only ever heard Garrett curse once before and that was when Cullen's fist had connected with his jaw during one of their first sessions.

"Good thinking, G," he had called after him, before the guard shut the door of his cell, leaving him alone once again.

=PoF=

The final two hours of his punishment crept by at a snail's pace with Cullen almost knocking the guard the fuck off his feet when he finally opened the cell to let him out. He stretched his arms back and cracked his neck loudly as he walked quickly towards the yard where he knew everyone would be chilling, as they did every Tuesday afternoon, before and after dinner.

He stepped out into the burning sun, blinking erratically as his eyes got used to the brightness.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered as he rubbed his face.

"Yo, Cullen!"

The booming voice came from across the basketball court and Cullen found himself smiling at as it ricocheted relentlessly around him.

"McCarty," he answered as he wandered towards the giant man who had called him.

Emmett was sweating like a bitch in heat after playing basketball for the past hour, revelling in the burn through his body that happened when he elbowed, shoved and cursed at the other fuckers on the court. It was as close as he could get to the rush of adrenaline that he missed so much when he boosted a '_sexy lady'_ with an eight litre engine and leather seats.

"Where ya been fucker?" McCarty asked with a wide smile and a slap against Cullen's shoulder that made him wobble on his feet. "I've missed your punk ass face."

"Give me a smoke and I'll tell you all about it," Cullen answered with a smirk, wincing internally at the force at which his hand had connected with him. _Fucking Emmett..._

Emmett pulled a cigarette from his pocket and flicked Cullen a match as they made their way across to a small seating area at the back of the court.

"Move!" Emmett barked at the two men who were already seated.

Cullen snorted as he watched the two pussies scatter like leaves at the sound of Emmett's voice. He sat down as soon as they vacated the bench and slumped, closing his eyes slowly as the sun beat down on him and the smoke whispered from between his lips.

"So, what gives? You been busy jerking off since yesterday?" Emmett laughed and lit his own cigarette, moaning as he breathed the smoke in.

"If only," Cullen replied as he watched the basketball game resume without Emmett. "No, it was Newton."

"Fucker," Emmett murmured with a shake of his head. _He really hated that asshole..._

"Agreed," Cullen replied as he blew the smoke from his lungs. "I had a slight 'disagreement' with one of the tutors and the shit head put me on twenty-four hour punishment."

"Fucker," Emmett repeated and Cullen nodded turning towards him.

"It's on, Emmett. I shit you not."

Emmett saw the look of determination in Cullen's eyes, bumped his fist and smirked with his cigarette dangling from his mouth.

"Better believe it baby," he acquiesced enthusiastically with a wink.

He would have Cullen's back. They had known each other a lot of years both inside and outside detention and it was the least he could fucking do. Cullen had been there for Emmett on a couple of occasions on the outside, saving his ass both times. Yeah, if Cullen needed him, he would be there, especially if it meant getting that Newton prick and wiping the smile of his butt ugly face.

They both turned quickly - their heads snapping with a sharpness only achieved by long sentences of incarceration with fuckers who could be sly and quick - when they heard a loud bout of whistles and jeers from the court.

Emmett snorted and smiled. "Talking of tutors," he muttered as he cocked a satisfied eyebrow.

Cullen followed his stare across the court and through the fencing, to see a small brunette with the tightest ass he had ever seen, wrapped in a black, knee length pencil skirt, scuttling quickly across the car lot towards a sweet Mini Cooper. Her pale legs looked awesome as they disappeared into a pair of black heeled shoes that, even from Cullen's viewpoint, screamed hard sex.

_Fuck me..._

"Who the fuck is that?" he asked, trying to hide the fact that he was craning his neck to see past the other inmates who were milling around the fence like kids at a zoo, blocking his view. _Bastards..._

"_That_ is Miss Swan," Emmett answered with a slow sigh as he leaned his elbows back on the table behind him and crossed his legs at the ankles, "The new Lit tutor. She's cool actually. I had my first session with her today."

Cullen's head spun back around towards him as he blew out his smoke. "You take Lit?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Emmett answered quickly. "What the fuck of it?" His shoulders rose in defence making him look even bigger. Cullen recoiled slightly in his seat.

"Nothing, man," Cullen surrendered with a shrug. He turned back to see the soft-topped Mini whizz past the fence and out towards the exit. "Shit," he mumbled.

"Agreed," Emmett replied, flicking his cigarette across the yard towards Quil Embry who narrowed his eyes in response. Cullen and Emmett laughed together. They hated Quil Embry. He was a cocky assed motherfucker who didn't know his place, which was on the floor along with the cigarette bud Emmett had discarded.

"Well, at least that's a plus," Cullen muttered as he put his cigarette out on the bench beside him.

"What?" Emmett asked with a frown.

"The tutor..." he waved his hand towards where the Mini had disappeared. "Miss..."

"Swan," Emmett finished for him.

"Yeah, Miss Swan," he acknowledged. "That's one good thing about me doing Lit."

Emmett chuckled. "_You're_ doing Lit?"

"Yeah," Cullen answered with a roll of his eyes. "Garrett wants me to prove to the powers that be that I can '_improve_' myself inside. Some shit about how it could help towards an early parole. I'm not holding my breath."

"Sounds like a croc to me," Emmett said with a frown.

"Agreed," Cullen replied before leaning back to continue watching the basketball players that had, like him, long forgotten the small brunette in the sweet Mini Cooper.

=PoF=

Isabella threw her bag down by the front door with a long breath, along with her keys that she placed in a china bowl. She was anal about where her belongings went and liked to keep everything meticulously clean and just so. It was her way of keeping order in her life, or so her therapist kept telling her. Jamie called it OCD, much to her annoyance.

She walked over to play the answer machine while flicking through the mail that she had received and immediately heard her mother's voice come through the speaker.

"_I'm assuming you're still alive and well, even though I haven't heard a peep from you since yesterday. I hope you haven't forgotten that you are coming to the house this evening for dinner. If you aren't here by seven, I'll be sending Phil out with a search party. Bye."_

Isabella rolled her eyes and pressed call back on her phone, leaving it on speaker as she walked over to her tropical fish tank and sprinkled fish food across the smooth water, smiling as they came to the surface and puckered and kissed at the flakes.

"Isabella?" her mother's anxious voice filled her living room.

"Yes, Mom, it's me. I'm alive, I'm safe and I'll be at the house prompt for seven so cancel the damn search party!"

She heard her mother huff and click her tongue in response.

"Very funny young lady," she chastised. "I'm allowed to worry, Isabella. I _am_ your mother after all."

"I know, I know. I've just been really busy."

It was the truth and honestly she could have done without having to have dinner with her mother after the day she had just had.

She had woken up late after being up half the night having the same dream repeatedly. She'd tried to go another night without her pills and had done nothing but regret it as soon as her head hit the pillow.

It was a new dream this time however. There were no faceless men or wet sand but her father was still there. He kept whispering something to her over and over and try as she might she just couldn't get near enough to hear him.

That was when the hooded stranger came and pulled her back from him as he had done all those years before.

He was still a stranger to her - both in and out of her dreams - after apparently disappearing without a trace from the doorway of the building he had held her in as she cried for her Daddy. She truly believed that the police _and_ her mother thought her fucking insane when she tried to describe what had happened; that a hooded unknown had pulled her from seeing her father beaten to death.

All she knew was that he was definitely male and that he couldn't have been much older than she was. But he was never found and unsurprisingly, no one had seen anything. Regardless, he was still there in her subconscious every night, desperately pulling and dragging her to safety.

After waking up twenty minutes after her alarm and having the quickest shower in history, she had managed to make it to Arthur Kill with five minutes to spare before her first class. She was all over the place, forgetting her book for Sam and unable to do the lesson she had planned because the fucking connection in her room from her laptop to the interactive board was shot to shit.

She tried her hardest to think on her feet in front of the two technicians, one guard, Angela Weber, Mike Newton and four prison inmates, before inspiration struck her.

"Ok," she had breathed, running her hands through her hair. "Let's try some word association to begin."

"Word a-what?" Quil laughed from his seat in the second row, next to Sam Uley.

"Association, fuck wit," Emmett grumbled from his seat next to the wall that appeared to be straining against his large back that was leaning against it.

"What's that?" Tyler asked with a small frown.

"Word association," she repeated, "When we associate one word with another."

She pulled her magic marker from her case and wrote the same sentence on the white board as Mike Newton and the two technicians wandered quietly out of the door.

"I still don't get it," Tyler said, slouching into his seat.

"Yeah, Miss S, I'm with Tyler on this one," Emmett said with an apologetic shrug.

Isabella smiled. "Emmett, if I said the word _car_ to you what word would you think of?"

"Hot," he replied with a rise and drop of his right shoulder.

"Why?" Isabella asked taking a step towards him.

He bit the inside of his mouth and exhaled down his nose. He was really thinking about it and Isabella couldn't help but feel excited by it.

"Because when a car engine runs it gets hot and when I hear the engine of a car _I_ get hot. The fucking sound of a GT 500 has to be the sexiest sound in the world."

He grinned and winked at her making her smile back. "Great answer," she whispered.

She turned from him slowly and wrote the word car and hot on the board, connecting them with a small line.

"Tyler, when I say the word hot, what word do you think of?"

Isabella heard Quil mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'Miss Swan's ass' but had no time to ask before Emmett launched a pencil at him with such speed that it lodged itself into the chair behind him. _Lucky fucker…_

The guard made to move towards Emmett but Isabella shook her head and eyed him quickly. She would handle it. She had to.

"Tyler," she repeated, ignoring the looks of death that were being shot from Emmett towards Quil at the back of the room. She hoped the little shit was petrified.

"Sun?" Tyler asked nervously.

"Perfect," Isabella praised, writing it on the board.

"Sam," she continued. "What word associates with sun?"

"Moon," he answered quietly with a quick glance in her direction. She smiled at him and nodded.

"Quil," she said sharply, "Keeping your eyes on my face and off my ass." His eyes snapped up as Tyler hid a laugh behind his fist. "What word do you associate with moon?"

Isabella had to admit she even surprised herself and she could see on the look of the other people in the room, including Angela, that they were shocked as shit too.

"Um…" Quil shifted in his seat and glanced at everyone around him, trying his hardest not to look embarrassed.

Isabella suddenly felt guilty. "When you think of the moon, Quil, what else do you think of?"

"Stars?" he muttered down towards his chest.

"Perfect," she answered, writing it quickly. "Gentlemen, what you have just done here is called, word association. When we think of one word, a million and one other words can come into your head. For example, if I think of the word red, I think of love, passion, fire…blood." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "It's about thinking outside of the box, thinking further than the one word on the page."

She looked at the five faces in front of her to see a flash of understanding glance across all of them before she handed each of them an A4 notebook.

"On the first page on the top line I want you to write a word that means a lot to you. So, Emmett, if you want to write the word car, be my guest." He grinned back at her and nodded. "And then what I want you to do is list all the other words that you can associate with that. Hot, gas, leather…"

"Miss S," he teased with a loud gust through his lips "You're gonna have to stop before I get too…um….excited…" He glanced down at his crotch and wiggled his eyebrows. She really had no fucking idea what those words _did_ to him.

Even Sam laughed at that comment as Isabella rolled her eyes at the giant man. "Get on with it, McCarty," she replied poking the page as she smiled at Angela.

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered.

She had gone around the rest of the room, seeing what the others had come up with, clicking her tongue at Quil's choice of 'sex' and smiling like a fool at Sam's choice of 'hope.'

"I'm sorry if this is too...simplistic for you, Sam," she said quietly as she crouched at the side of him.

He shook his head and smiled gently, his eyes dancing, "Its fine, Miss Swan. I like things like this."

"Ok," she replied, glancing at his association list to see words such as _Mom, September 12_ and _forgiveness_.

"September 12?" she asked, running her index finger under his cursive writing.

He nodded and breathed deeply. "It was the day my daughter was born," he answered quietly.

"I see," she replied, hiding the surprise in her voice. "And she gives you hope?"

"She's the only hope I have of being a better person." His eyes flashed with a determination that made all the hairs on Isabella's body stand on end.

She decided right then, that she really did _like _Sam Uley.

Isabella tried to explain this to her mother and her partner Phil at dinner later that night but they just didn't seem to understand at all.

She tried to explain what she felt when Sam had written such words; about the surge of adrenaline, that only a teacher knows when their students show understanding of a subject. But her mother simply scoffed. She tried to hide it from her daughter but Isabella knew her too well. Phil had, as always, thrown her a sympathetic look across the dining table.

Her mother, as much as Isabella loved her and tried to understand her point of view, was still extremely prejudiced about criminals and what should be done with them.

In truth, Renee Swan had nearly had a damn coronary the day that her only child - and only living connection to her late husband - told her that she wanted to work in a prison.

How on earth could she want to be near those animals?

It made no never mind to Renee whether it was drugs or murder; they were all the same to her, all evil and they all deserved _just_ punishment. The thought of Isabella being near them, let alone teaching and helping them terrified her.

Her baby girl thrown to the lions just like her husband.

Did she not understand what could happen to her? Did she not see how dangerous a job it was?

Isabella had tried to reason with her mother, explaining that she would be safe and that, as hard as it was to understand, they weren't the same men that had killed the man they both adored. After her therapy sessions, where she had discussed the same fears, it had surprised Isabella at how easy the words came off her tongue.

Maybe it was going to be easier than she imagined?

No, she wasn't _that _naive but the feeling of ease that had swept through her when she had seen her students do the work she had set, stayed with her through the tense dinner.

She had left early, knowing she had that same work to read and grade before she had the class, the following morning. Once through her front door, she kicked off her shoes and wandered over to the answer machine that was flashing and pressed play, before making her way into the kitchen and grabbing the bottle of white wine that had been in her fridge chilling perfectly. She was definitely ready for a drink, almost anxiously so.

"_Miss Swan, it's Mike here...Mike Newton..."_

"No shit," she muttered as she pulled the cork from the bottle with a resounding pop.

"_I hope your day went well...apart from the obvious..."_

He laughed nervously and Isabella rolled her eyes as she poured her wine into a large glass that Leah had bought her for Christmas.

"_Tech have assured me that the problems this morning will not happen again...um...so, I just wanted to give you a heads up that a new inmate will be joining your class tomorrow...um, he's...difficult but I'm sure you'll be just fine. I'll explain in the morning...um, have a good evening. Bye."_

Isabella stared at the answer phone and blinked. A new inmate? Difficult? She just _knew_ that the easiness of the first day's class had been a onetime thing. Fucking typical.

"Cheers, Mr. Newton," she muttered sarcastically as she grabbed the papers from her case and sat down cross legged on her sofa, glass of wine still firmly in hand.

"_Hey, Bells, it's Jay. I hope today went as you hoped. I was...well, I was thinkin' of ya so...I'm at Maloney's so come for a drink if you want...Victoria's here...If not...I'll speak to you soon. Bye."_

She sighed and sipped her drink. She had to give Jamie credit for trying to be supportive. After her small outburst the night before, he had promised that he would be there for her while being as encouraging and understanding as he could be. She knew, as she had fallen asleep on him, that he meant it. She could always rely on him, which was why his lack of faith in her had stung initially. He cared about her and that was fine but she needed him to understand why she was doing what she was doing.

"_Hey, Swan! You, me, tomorrow, tennis, me kicking your ass! Sound good? Thought so! Call me!"_

She laughed lightly into her glass. Leah, Jamie's sister was a force to be reckoned with, that was for damn sure. She'd been that way all her life, pushing Isabella to take risks and be daring, especially after the death of her father. At first she had resisted, not wanting to do anything but grieve but Leah had pushed relentlessly for her to leave her room and be the child that she was, instead of the adult who tried to get her mother to open up and talk about her loss.

Theirs was a competitive relationship that she loved. Yes, Leah could be hard to take in large doses but her heart, like her brother's, was definitely in the right place. The three of them had travelled through school together, travelled the world together and been there for each other through everything.

It was a comfortable friendship triangle to be a part of, even if Leah had pestered her about putting her brother '_out of his misery_.' But that wasn't going to happen any time soon even _with_ the history Isabella and Jamie had. She wasn't ready for that – with anyone. She had to focus on her job and a relationship just wouldn't help her do that.

Besides, Jamie had said Victoria was at the bar with him, maybe they would give it another go?

She pushed those particular thoughts away quickly and placed her glass on the table in front of her, settling herself down to read what her new students had written.

=PoF=

The next morning was better.

The dreams had stayed away for one night – courtesy of the half a bottle of Californian White that Isabella had finished as she read through the pieces of work from her new class. To say that she was stunned by what she had read would have been an understatement. She was enthralled, bewildered and completely ecstatic.

She had asked them to write a couple of paragraphs, or more, if they felt they could, about the words they had chosen during their word association session. Emmett had written enthusiastically about the first car that he boosted and what he felt like when he did it.

His dyslexia was apparent but the fervour with which he wrote was undeniable. He likened his love of cars to sex and drugs - an addiction to quell an overwhelming urge – written in such a passionate way that the subject matter seemed irrelevant. He was funny and fanatical about his machines and it came in streams through his writing.

Sam's was exceptional and had Isabella in tears as she read of his love for his 'girl' and daughter. The hope that the unassuming man had in his heart for his child was borderline inspirational and Isabella couldn't help but think of her father and his hopes for her before he died.

She skipped into the staff room of Arthur Kill and poured herself a coffee, eager to get to the next session with her class.

"You look like you had a good night." Angela's voice penetrated Isabella's morning bubble with a small laugh.

"I did," she answered as she dropped some milk into her cup. "Angela, that work they did was exceptionally good."

Angela smiled knowingly and nodded. "I know. They try so damned hard; especially when they like their tutor."

Isabella flushed slightly, not sure that she had much to do with it considering they had only had one session. They continued to discuss the class, with Emmett and Sam being the most prevalent students throughout the conversation as Isabella explained what they had both written.

"I hope McCarty's not giving you trouble," Mr Newton said firmly, entering their conversation with no introduction which pissed Isabella off more than she expected. _He is such a smarmy ass…_

"Um, no, actually he's been great. Really responsive and he produced some really great work for me yesterday."

A flash of either annoyance or surprise crossed Mr. Newton's face at Isabella's words but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"That's great," he deadpanned.

Before Isabella could respond with a 'you bet your smarmy ass it is,' he clutched her elbow and manoeuvred her away from Angela to the other side of the room.

"So, your new inmate…" he began, releasing her arm slowly.

"Student," Isabella corrected, crossing her arms over her chest.

Newton eyed her carefully. He couldn't have lost her to the Weber and reform crowd already?

"Yes, well, your new _student_ will be in attendance as soon as your class starts."

Isabella bristled at his sarcasm. He was obviously having a bad morning and she was, for some reason, in the line of fire of it. She took a deep breath and brought out a wide smile.

"That's great," she responded. "What's the student's name?"

"Cullen," he replied quickly, incensed by the smile and watched as Isabella frowned slightly in recognition of the name. She remembered Angela's words about meeting him _eventually_.

Well, she thought wryly, I guess eventually arrived.

"And is that all the information I get?" She could feel herself getting even more annoyed by his petulant and somewhat aggressive manner.

"His folder is in my office." He ran a hand across his chin and exhaled. He was having a shiteous morning and the folder that belonged to one epic asshole was not on his list of priorities. "I'll...um, I'll get it to you."

"Great," she answered before turning on her heel and walking back to Angela who had been eavesdropping on the entire exchange with amusement.

"Let's go," Isabella said with a smile as she grabbed her coffee and bag and made her way across the staff room towards her class.

=PoF=

All of her students filtered in, just as they had the day before, each one of them chattering and looking decidedly light.

"Good morning, everyone," Isabella smiled as she fixed up her laptop while they took their seats, sighing in relief when the connection worked first time through her interactive board.

"Morning, Miss S," Emmett answered with a huge yawn and a slap of his chest. "And may I say how nice you look today?"

"You may," she answered with a playful warning look.

"You look nice," he responded quickly before giving her a wide closed lip smile.

"Thank you, Emmett," she replied, unable to hide her own grin.

She handed out their previous days work and gave them a couple of minutes to read her comments on them.

"What does '_not entirely appropriate' _mean?" Quil asked from his seat at the back of the class.

Isabella grimaced and approached him. "It means, Quil that I don't really want to read about every one of your conquests or the marks you gave them out of ten, including…" She whipped the paper from his desk to find the offending sentence. "_The blow job was fucking awesome."_

At this Quil barked a huge laugh that echoed around the room while flicking his fingers in joy. He stopped fairly quickly when he realised no-one else found him as funny as he obviously did.

"You're a fucking idiot," Tyler muttered from his seat.

"Fuck you, Crowley," Quil retorted, kicking the back of Tyler's chair.

"Hey," Isabella said as calmly as she could, feeling the panic rise inside her.

"The fuck you say?" Tyler bit back, making to stand from his seat.

"Hey," she repeated louder, the panic engulfing her throat as she held an open palm towards each of the men.

Before Isabella could fathom what the hell was going on, she was standing in the middle of Emmett, Tyler and Quil, all of them shouting obscenities, insults and pointed fingers at each other while Officer Morgan tried to get in between them, with Angela, calling to her to move back.

But she couldn't.

The panic was there, pounding around her head as she tried to breathe and remain calm, remembering the anxiety breathing exercises that he therapist had given her. She closed her eyes, clenched her fists and took in a deep breath.

"HEY!"

Everyone immediately went quiet and looked at her in absolute fucking shock as her yell bounced around the room. Emmett, who was standing at her right side; trying his best to get in front of her to shield her from whatever shit was about to fly, blinked in disbelief.

Well _fuck, the small swan has a voice…_

The awed silence lasted all of two minutes before the door of the classroom flew open and Mike Newton strode in with a face like thunder.

"What the hell is going on here?" he yelled as he slammed his hands to his hips.

The group surrounding Isabella slowly began to disperse as two officers appeared in the doorway. Isabella took another shaky breath and rubbed her palms down her black trousers. She cleared her throat and turned to her boss with as genuine a smile as she could muster.

"Nothing to worry about, Mr. Newton, just a differing of opinion." She walked towards him slowly, clasping her sweating hands at her stomach.

"As you can see they're all fine now. Aren't you, Quil?" She levelled a look at him that would have turned him to salt, had she had the ability.

He nodded sharply and bit the inside of his mouth before glaring at the back of Tyler's head.

Newton eyed the room carefully. She was good at bullshitting, that he had to admit, but from the sounds that he heard before he entered the room, he knew she was out of her depth and it was only her second day of teaching. He didn't want her to have a hard time and quit but he couldn't stand the thought of her being on _'their'_ side. She worked for him, not them and the fact that she had called them 'students' and not inmates only forty-eight hours in, had made his teeth clench.

He breathed heavily down his nose and cleared his throat. "Well," he began with a glance at each inmate. "I'd like to bring in your new student." He turned his head back towards the door, "Cullen?"

Cullen had been standing in the corridor with Officer West, grinning and listening to Newton try to assert what piss ass authority he thought he had. He pushed from his place against the wall and wandered into the room, dragging his feet with every step.

The first thing he noticed was Emmett across the room, acknowledging him with a nod and a smirk which he returned arrogantly – seeing as all eyes were on _him_. He then glanced around quickly, yet nonchalantly at the other guys in the class, trying to discern where he came in the pecking order. He was almost always at the top but he forever made it a point to check first.

In this case, Emmett ruled the roost – just.

He sneered when he took in the other shit poke faces. Tyler could be cocky but he knew his place and Sam was as quiet as a mouse – no problems there. Quil Embry however...he narrowed his eyes at the little fucker and smirked further when he noticed he slumped down into his seat under his gaze. _That's right, bitch..._

A annoyed feminine cough was what pulled him from his visual tormenting of the little bastard.

He looked from Quil slowly towards the origin of the noise, finding the delectable Miss Swan, arms crossed over her chest, eying him in a way that made his hackles immediately rise and his fists clench. She, like every other fucker not in blue overalls, thought she was better than him. He didn't have to be a mind reader to know it. And she may have hid it well behind her sexy blouse and heels but she was just like them. They were all the same.

He leaned his weight casually onto his right foot and stared right back at her. _Bring it, Miss S..._

"Cullen, this is Miss Swan. Miss Swan, this is Edward Cullen."

"Just Cullen," he spat, keeping his glare firmly on Isabella. Newton knew better than to use his first name for fuck's sake.

Newton cleared his throat and rolled his eyes in Isabella's direction. "Cullen," he sighed, trying to appease him.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Cullen," Isabella said with a cocked eyebrow.

She had seen the way that he had taken in the other students in her class and she didn't like it. He was obviously an arrogant jerk who saw himself above everyone in her class – including her and she was immediately irritated by it. This was her classroom – _not his_. Her hostility surprised her but the adrenaline was still pumping through her body after the almost fight and the last thing she needed was a cocky fucker like Cullen adding to it. _No matter how good looking he was..._

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered back with an obvious eye roll, unable to resist letting his line of sight dance quickly over the delicate curves of Isabella's chest and hips that - he had to admit - were pretty fucking hot.

"Take a seat," she bit back, unable to hold her irritation any longer.

His stare met hers once again as her tone slipped down his already tense back. He narrowed his eyes infinitesimally and Isabella could have sworn that he almost snarled. But she stood firm, keeping grounded, not moving an inch and shit if she didn't look hot as fuck doing it.

Emmett and Newton's eyes locked for a tenth of a second as that very thought shot between them.

It was Angela's voice that broke the strange electric atmosphere of aggression, annoyance and arousal that filled the room.

"Here, Cullen," she said in a soft voice, ideal for defusing highly anxious situations. "Sit here." She motioned towards the seat closest to him.

Cullen, as loath as he was to break his gaze with the hot-bitch teacher, took a deep breath through his nose, making his nostrils flare and moved slowly towards the seat that Angela was offering. His breath seemed to shudder out of him as his green irises dropped from the wide chocolate ones that flickered with fire.

"Well," Newton croaked, slipping his hands in his pockets, not entirely sure what had just occurred. "Any problems...you know where I am."

He gave Isabella a tight-lipped smile that she barely noticed and left the room followed by the two other officers, after they had un-cuffed Cullen. She seemed unable to tear her eyes from the conceited ass sitting in her classroom. He was fine to look at with his messy hair, broad shoulders, two days worth of stubble and long legs that stuck out from underneath the desk but his attitude made him ugly, bitter and sharp around the edges.

She lifted her eyebrows, suddenly realising that she was frowning at him. He didn't notice however as his eyes was firmly locked on the desk in front of him.

He didn't want to look at her; as easy as she was on the eye. He was too fucking angry. And what made him even more fucking mad was that he had no fucking clue why!

She had asked him to sit – _so fucking what_ – but it was the way in which she'd asked him; completely curt, determined and seemingly unafraid of him. That shit just would not fucking do. At. All.

Isabella took a quiet second to compose herself, dropping her stare from Cullen and focusing on the other six people in front of her. She started her computer up with the activity that she wanted them to undertake, explaining it quickly and clearly and within five minutes they had their heads down and were on task. It appeared that the altercation had been forgotten or had, at the very least, made everyone calmer.

She walked with purpose towards Cullen's desk and placed an A4 book in front of him. He never moved or looked up to acknowledge her request for him to place his name on the front of it, even if the rest of his body was achingly aware of her presence in front of him.

"Cullen," she said again, feeling her annoyance creep up her spine as her patience dwindled into her stomach. "Could you please write your name on the front of this booklet?"

She noticed the corners of his mouth twitch slightly_. Oh no, asshole..._

"Is something funny?" she asked through clenched teeth, unable to control the rage that was boiling with no rhyme or reason deep inside her.

His eyes snapped to hers, bright green and furious but he never said a word.

She pulled a pen from the pocket of her pants and held it out for him. "Is this what you need?"

She could have sworn that his eyes softened slightly around the pupils but it was a change so minute that she shook the thought away immediately. He raised his hand slowly and took the pen from her, allowing the tip of his finger to catch the side of her knuckle as he did. His smirk became a knowing smile as he clicked the pen and wrote his name as she had asked.

_Not entirely immune_, he congratulated himself as he noticed the sharp dip of her chest as she breathed quickly. _She felt it_.

Isabella felt the contact – _holy fuck did she feel the contact_ – but she tried her hardest to hide it. She tried to hide the burning jolt of heat that shot from the tip of her finger deep into the pit of her stomach and she was convinced she hid the gasp of air that she took and remained upright; a feat she was insanely proud of.

What the fuck _was_ that?

She watched as he wrote his desired name across the top of the booklet, throwing the pen down and sighing heavily and sarcastically as he sat back in his seat. He looked like he owned the place and Isabella had no doubt in her mind that the man in front of her thought exactly that.

There was a dangerous wall around him that screamed no entry and as she continued taking in the new addition to her class she realised, she didn't give a shit.

"I know you are slightly behind having just joined us today but I'm sure you'll catch up no problem." She tried to speak civilly but the words sounded so wrong in her head. They sounded false and insincere and she knew that, in the place she was, that was a risky combination.

Cullen looked up at her, his face belying any emotion or thought about what she had just said, so she continued regardless, explaining the word association task that the class had done twenty-four hours before.

"So, you can start with that," she muttered while running a hand through her hair which, Cullen noted, was a combination of several shades of brunette. "Write a word that means something to you and then all the words that associate with that."

Still nothing.

She bit her tongue and placed her hands on her hips.

"Once you do that you can write about why that word is important to you."

She saw him sneer and sit back even further in his seat.

"I'm sorry," she fumed. "Is there a problem?"

He looked up at her, his face strong, sculpted, beautiful and terrifying.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he asked in a quiet monotone voice that sent chills down her back.

She blinked at him in response. "No," she answered defiantly. "Why?"

He snorted and ran a hand through his own hair. "It's a little bit…_basic_…wouldn't you say, Miss Swan?"

She felt her jaw tighten at his words, cursing Mike Newton for not giving her Cullen's folder to look over. Even so, no matter how intelligent he assumed himself to be, his entire attitude made her want to rip the smug ass smile off of his pretty little face.

"Well, Cullen," she sighed in response. "All roads to every answer start with the basics."

"Nice," he retorted while raising his eyebrows in a way that Isabella could only determine as patronizing as shit. "Read that little gem in a fortune cookie, did ya?"

She slammed her hands down on the desk in front of him and glared as hard as she could. There was no way the little bastard was going to make a mockery out of her father's philosophies.

"No, I didn't," she hissed in return. "So, shut your mouth and do what I ask. Otherwise," she nodded towards the exit. "There's the door. Don't let it hit you on your smart ass as you leave."

_Well, fuck me…_

Cullen sat for all of five seconds wondering who the fuck Miss Swan thought she was talking to and why the fuck his cock was hard as rock, before he sat up straight in his chair, leaning closer to her, feeling her hot breath on his cheek.

He was gleefully aware of the fact that she jumped slightly at his quick movement, but was equally dumbstruck by the huge wave of lust that crashed over him as he stared at her wide, enraged eyes and open mouth that moved slowly but determinedly with every breath that left her.

_What he could do to silence those plump, pink, self righteous lips_…_fuck_…

"Watch your fucking mouth," he seethed through clenched teeth, undeniably aware that the guard behind her had shifted towards them.

"No, Cullen," she replied as her stare burned into his. "You watch yours. This is my class, not yours so do what I ask or leave. The choice is yours."

Before Cullen could retort, or even drag his traitor eyes from her tits, she had walked away from him towards Emmett who had been watching the entire pissing contest with rapture. He never, for one moment, thought that Miss Swan had that lioness inside her and damn if she hadn't picked the most volatile fucker in the room to test herself on.

He watched as Cullen's mouth opened and closed a few times behind Miss Swan, his face a picture of complete and utter shock before he blew a quick, irate breath out of his mouth and slumped back in his seat.

That shit also had to be a first. Had he been a betting man – and in the past he had most definitely dabbled – Emmett would have had Cullen storming out of the room in record time, or at least ripping some shit up.

But no – he was still there and all the furniture in the room was still as it was when he entered.

Had Cullen met his match in the little swan before him?

He sniggered into the back of his hand in disbelief.

Isabella ignored Cullen for the next fifty minutes as best as she could - which _he_ was more than happy about -glancing at him occasionally to see him sitting like King Punk every time that she did. She hadn't seen him even attempt to do what she asked but a part of her was somewhat satisfied that he hadn't actually left.

She had no idea where her bravery – _or stupidity_ – had come from. Maybe it was the way Newton had addressed her earlier or she was still feeding off of the anger that had crashed between Quil and Tyler.

She had no idea; the only thing she did know was that there was something about Cullen that set her on edge. If she wasn't feeling so fucking angry she might have enjoyed the feelings of adrenaline and…life that was flooding her veins.

She spoke to each of her students about their work and was just finishing off her closing plenary as the officers came to collect their inmates. It had been a long fucking hour and Isabella couldn't help but notice the ripple of relief that moved through her.

"Laters, Miss S," Emmett chimed as he followed Tyler out of the door followed by a tall bronze haired asshole who pushed past her and everyone else with no regard whatsoever.

"Yeah, see you later," she answered, feeling her fists clench at her sides as she watched the retreating figure of Cullen disappear down the corridor. She fumed inwardly as the white hot heat, from his arm brushing against hers, smouldered up towards her neck and shoulder.

The door shut behind them all, leaving her and Angela alone. Isabella sank back against her desk and exhaled heavily, dropping her chin to her chest, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Are you ok?" Angela asked as she collected her notes and approached her. She didn't know what else to say after seeing the small brunette take on, not only a potential fight but Edward Cullen to boot.

Isabella laughed sarcastically and rubbed her face with her palms. "Yeah," she answered. "I'm fine."

Angela moved closer and reached a hand to her shoulder. "You did good," she praised, "Real good. He tested you and you passed."

Isabella smiled and winced all at the same time. "He's an asshole."

"No doubt," Angela replied with a small snort. "But it's his thing. You were great."

"Thank you," Isabella responded, not really believing what she was being told.

"No problem. See you tomorrow?" Angela thought it best to say it as a question – just to be sure.

Isabella looked at her, determination prevalent in her large eyes. "Yes, you will," she answered. She wasn't going to let some punk ass, know-it-all stop her from doing what she had to.

"Great," Angela replied, exhaling in relief. She couldn't give up so early. She could see the resolve in the woman before her and no matter what was driving it she knew that Isabella Swan could be a fucking amazing tutor at the facility.

"Have a good rest of the day," she offered before she left the room and Isabella to her thoughts.

Isabella glanced around the room for a couple of minutes, rubbing her arm gingerly over the spot that was still tingling, contemplating the events of what was surely the longest hour of her life, before she began collecting the A4 booklets of her students. She placed the pile down on the front table along with their pens before looking reluctantly at the last booklet that was placed on the desk in the font row where Cullen had sat.

She sighed as she stared at it, gnawing on her bottom lip in frustration. What the hell was it about Cullen that had her so fucking wired? Why had she snapped that way? Quil was an asshole and she hadn't behaved that way with him.

This wasn't her…she had acted stupidly, dangerously but Cullen had _immediately_ made her so…tense…hot…_alive_…

After an age of internal chastising and debate, she approached the booklet as a soldier would an un-detonated bomb and cautiously turned it around opening up to the first page. Her eyes widened and her breath caught as she read the word that meant _so much_ to the man that had conjured _so much_ from her in such a short space of time.

With four letters, she knew that there was a lot more to Cullen than the punk ass fucker who had stoked so aggressively at the fire within her.

The four letters simply spelled – _debt. _

**Holy PunkAssward has a dirty mouth, Batman!**

**So our two kids have met – will he come back? Will Isabella bust him in his smart ass mouth?**

**Tune in next week.**

**Leave me love.**

**TTFN xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much for the words of love for this story. I am seriously blown away by all of you.**

**To answer a couple of things:- Yes, it will ****always**** be in third person (although if I do outtakes they will probably be in first person) and ****I will**** (RL allowing) continue to post on Fridays with teasers posted on the Twilighted APoF thread throughout the week.**

**I don't own Twilight but Emmett owns my ass...**

**Slow burn as ever...see you on the other side...**

**Chapter 4****: Cause and Effect**

"_He, who does not prevent a crime when he can, encourages it." ~ _**Seneca**

Leah Damon ran like hell from one side of the tennis court to the other, gasping, panting and suddenly feeling like she was playing Centre Court at Wimbledon against Serena Williams and not her best friend Isabella Swan. There was something definitely up. The way that Isabella was smashing the tennis balls back at her, left, right and centre was bordering on violent and fuck if she wasn't already becoming tired just one set in.

She ran down the left side of the court to receive a shit hot back hand that Isabella had hammered from the base line and cursed loudly as her return found nothing but the net between them. Leah dropped her palms and racket to her knees and took a deep breath. She was a bad fucking loser and this all new tennis superstar she was faced with, was an unwelcome addition to her game plan.

"You ok?" Isabella asked as she stalked towards the net, not even feeling slightly satisfied that she was whipping ass due to the knot of indistinguishable emotions that was lodged in her stomach.

Leah held up her hand and nodded. "Yeah, I'm great, how about you, McEnroe?"

Isabella had to smile at that. "I'm good," she replied, using the end of her racket handle to scratch the side of her face.

"Oh that, girl, is for damn fucking certain," Leah replied as she stretched back to her full height. "What's up?"

Isabella frowned, having no clue what Leah was referring to. "What?"

"Something's different," she gestured around the court as if that was enough to explain the meaning behind her statement. "What is it?"

Isabella put a hand to her hip and smirked. "So, because I'm winning something has to be up?"

Leah scoffed and bent down to retrieve the tennis ball at her feet. "Whatever, Swan." She threw the ball at her friend, "Your serve."

An hour, two scuffed knees and a barrage of curses later and a defeated Leah and an indifferent Isabella made their way to the showers of the Upper East Side tennis club that they frequented every Wednesday evening. It may have been a little more pretentious than Isabella liked but she enjoyed playing and hanging out with Leah who preferred the lavish surroundings of the club – especially the showers that were, in her opinion, awesome. It also helped that her uncle owned the place.

While she showered, Isabella allowed herself to go back to reflecting on the day that she had had before she met her friend – unable to focus on much else other than a six foot two, bronzed haired asshat that had sauntered into her classroom with a superiority and danger that made her skin break out into goose flesh.

She still hadn't decided if that particular reaction was through anger, fear or something else that she had been musing over since he had barged past her and down the corridor at the end of their session. She was still frustrated by Cullen, or _Edward Anthony_ Cullen as his file had told her. Newton had finally given her the fucking thing as she was leaving for the day – a fat lot of good it did her then. He had apologised for its lateness, muttering something about Jess and her bullshit – _whatever the hell that meant_ – leaving her to briefly peruse the file before she met with Leah.

What she read hadn't surprised her. He was the poster boy for rebellious deviants and bad asses the world over.

He was twenty-six and since the age of fifteen, he had been in detention centres or incarceration of some description at least six months out of every twelve. He had dropped out of school at seventeen – which was impressive considering his lack of attendance and his GPA had been above average - excelling in sports and English - listing Salinger, Hemmingway and Selby Jr as his favourite writers.

There was very little written about his past or his family - being his academic folder - listing only a Mr. Carlisle Cullen as his next of kin.

He was intelligent, a fact that he had made clear with his comments about her class and how '_basic_' he found the work that she had asked him to do. He was above it as far as he was concerned and that was what had riled Isabella more than anything.

How dare he behave like he was better than everyone else in her class – including her? How dare he behave so aggressively and so intimidating?

She knew that she could have him and his punk ass removed from her classroom; to make a point that _she_ was in charge – not him. But then he would have won and she would have lost - not just in a battle of wills against a prick inmate; she would have lost against the fucks who stole her father away too. Giving up and running away or ignoring the issue would not do for Isabella Swan. She would fight fire with fire; she would not be defeated by him and it vexed her that he had even tried.

"Asshole," she muttered to herself as she rubbed hard at her hair with the blue towel in her hands as she remembered his snarl when he had faced off with her across his desk.

"Who's an asshole?" Leah asked as she sprayed her under arms with deodorant.

Isabella looked up in surprise, halting the assault on her hair. "Oh, just a new student of mine," she offered dismissively, folding the towel slowly and pushing it into her bag.

"And why is he an asshole? Save for the obvious criminal charges."

Isabella smiled tightly as she fastened her bracelet around her wrist. Leah wasn't as prejudice towards her job choice as Isabella's mother but her comment still irritated her. Besides, Isabella had decided, Cullen could not use his criminality to behave like a complete dick. She would not allow it.

"He just..." she shrugged and exhaled loudly in exasperation, feeling her temper start to fray as she remembered the conceited jerk and his belittling attitude. She remembered the fire and disdain in his eyes and the tone with which he addressed her. She felt her insides start to boil, spinning around to glare at her friend.

"He just came into my room like fucking King Ass, making me and my other students feel intimidated and then told me he thought that the work I had asked him to complete was basic – which, fine, _yes,_ it is – but it was just an introductory activity for us to get to know one another, ya know, so I can see what makes them tick – but_ noooo_ not Cullen with his fucking...chiselled jaw and...his...his green eyes and scruffy hair that just....Oh, it's far too fucking '_basic_' for him..."

Isabella couldn't seem to rein in the vitriolic hatred that was suddenly spewing from her mouth.

Leah crossed her arms slowly across her chest as she continued to watch her friend move her hands around at such speed with her descriptions, she feared she would eventually take off into space.

"And he tells me to watch my mouth..." Isabella continued with a scoff, utterly oblivious to Leah's amused expression. "I mean, Leah, come on...ME!" She laughed without humour. "He's a fucking asshole, who thinks he is bigger and better than everyone else but let me tell you..." She thrust a finger into her own chest. "_I _am not backing down for anything! Not for that shit, not for anyone!"

Isabella threw her hoodie on as a ferocity of epic proportions bubbled like lava through her veins once more, grabbed her bag and stormed to the exit with Leah's speechless eyes still glued to her every move.

"You comin'?" she snapped, making Leah stifle a laugh.

"You're not gonna kill me, right?" she asked cautiously with a small grin as she lifted her palms up subserviently.

Isabella rolled her eyes and charged through the door with Leah laughing and running up to catch her. They made their way silently to the restaurant of the club, sitting in their usual seat and ordering from the same waiter. Isabella however ordered a different drink, almost demanding a dirty vodka Martini from the somewhat stunned barman.

"So, this guy..._Cullen_...? He left a lasting impression, I take it?" Leah smiled as she watched Isabella tug the green olive viciously from the tooth pick that had been placed in her glass.

Isabella grunted and took a long ass sip of her drink. Two days into her new job and she was already drinking more than she usually did. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Bells, seriously, what the hell happened?" Leah asked with a much more concerned tone.

She had never, in all the time she had known Isabella, seen her behave or react in the ways that she was and had been doing since they met three hours before. Her body language was completely different; defensive in an aggressive way almost like a tiger stalking its prey and the fire behind her eyes was breathtaking. Leah had to admit, Isabella's wrath was definitely a good look on her.

Isabella told her friend, in detail, about the day and how it had started; from Mike _'Smug-Shit'_ Newton snapping at her, to the almost fight, to the moment that Cullen had entered the classroom and practically pissed his superiority all over the damn place. This Leah had to laugh at.

"So, you have him removed," she offered with a slight shrug. "It'll be fine. Show him who's boss." She clenched her fist and drummed it on the table in supportive determination.

Isabella shook her head. "I can't" she retorted quickly. "It will have the opposite effect. It'll show the other students _and_ Mike _fucking_ Newton that I can't cope with him." She continued to shake her head. "No," she muttered through a tight jaw. "I have to stand up to him, no matter how much of an asshole he is."

She slammed her now empty Martini glass down on the table and stabbed at a defenceless tomato that was seated on the top of her salad.

"He'll regret he crossed me, Leah," she murmured around the fruit after she'd tossed it into her mouth. "I guarantee it."

=PoF=

It may or may not have made Isabella feel better, had she known that Cullen had also done nothing but fume over their first encounter and ruminate seriously over the ways in which he could make her life hell. The fucking bitch had made an enemy that was for damn certain. He was still utterly fucking amazed that she had spoken to him that way and said the words to him that she had.

He ran his hands through his hair for the millionth time that afternoon.

_I mean, honestly__, who the fuck did she think she was?_

No one ever spoke that way to Cullen.

No. One.

Ever.

_Miss Swan_ could just thank her lucky fucking stars that she was a woman and that there were guards with mace and batons in the immediate vicinity. He wasn't so much of a fucker that he would ever raise a hand to a woman but fuck it all to hell if _Miss Swan_ hadn't pushed him in that direction.

All day he had been unable to rid himself of the rage that she had sparked in him, the absolute fury at being spoken to in such a way and unbelievably and more infuriating than all of that shit combined, was the wild lust that had shaken his entire body.

It was almost like an electric current had shot from her to him and back again as she had spat her words in his direction. Her heavy breaths and her venomous tone made his cock harder than titanium, making him want to fuck her all over his desk and hers until she knew how he expected to be treated.

She'd be damn sure not to forget after he'd had his way with her.

He was seething at himself for thinking those things about a woman he had met for all of fifty-five minutes.

Yeah, she was hot, any red-blooded male could see that shit; with her long dark hair, full pink lips, tight ass and killer rack - but that was beside the point. It was the weakness that infuriated him above all else. The desire to slam into her pussy (and/or mouth) had been so unexpected that it had caught his ass off guard and - in a place such as Arthur Kill - that was some dangerous shit.

He had to have his wits about him at all times and couldn't allow himself to lose his cock-driven mind in some smart-ass bitch that thought she was above him because she had a teaching certificate.

So. Fucking. What?

He scoffed to himself as he was lead by one officer towards the visit room.

Miss Swan was a snotty, self righteous bitch who needed to learn – and fast – that he would not tolerate her speaking and acting so fucking..._unafraid _of him.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he remembered the look on her face as she had hissed at him like a goddamn snake. There was not an inch of fear or a spark of anything that would suggest that she was intimidated by him. She had burned with energy so fierce he had been able to practically taste it in the air between them. She wasn't scared of him and she stood up to him, making his cock stand up for her...and he hated her for it.

He'd even done what she'd asked from him and written the one word that he lived every day by – not that she'd understand that shit, let alone have experience of it anyway.

He followed the officer into a small room that was divided into two halves by a huge thick piece of glass that was separated into ten small booths, each with its own individual phone that was hooked up to the wall. He was escorted to his own chair between two other inmates, where he slumped and watched the door on the other side like a hawk, sighing as he continued to muse and scheme.

The other thing that had irritated him about _Miss Swan_ was the fact that the other guys in the class seemed to like her – even Emmett. The large fucker had laughed and smirked as Cullen had fumed and spat his incredulity out as they sat down for a cigarette before lunch.

"Who the fuck does she think she is?" he had snapped, kicking at the wooden leg of the bench that Emmett was draped over. "I mean...does she have _any_ idea who she is fucking with?"

Emmett shrugged but the smart ass look was still plastered over his face. "She's a tough one," he conceded as he blew the smoke through his lips. He was still highly amused by the entire exchange between Miss S and Cullen- liking the whole thing to the biblical story of David and Goliath (and Cullen was damn sure not Goliath). He chuckled to himself.

"Whatever," Cullen growled as he had slammed onto the seat next to him. "She needs to watch herself."

Emmett eyed him curiously. "And what exactly should she watch?"

Cullen couldn't deny that he was unprepared for the almost protective tone in Emmett's voice and the hint of warning in his eye.

"She just needs to have some fucking respect," Cullen answered as he - ironically enough - flicked his cigarette butt at the back of one of the officers on duty.

"Mmhm," Emmett hummed with a cocked eyebrow. "Well, like my daddy always said; it takes respect to earn it."

Cullen frowned hard at the man beside him. "You expect me to respect some tight assed little bitch, who was probably born with a silver fucking spoon in her mouth and hasn't had to want for fucking anything since that same day?"

"It couldn't hurt," Emmett answered with a nonchalant shrug, not a stranger to Cullen's preaching about 'silver spoons' and the like. He had an issue with money – an issue that Emmett never raised further with him.

Cullen snorted and shook his head. There was no way he was going to show Miss Swan respect after the way she had spoken to him - even if it _had_ made his dick weep. He had leaned his elbows on his knees and cupped his face in his palms, breathing heavily as the memory of her voice reverberated around his head.

"So," Emmett said, breaking the silent moment, "Tight assed, huh?"

Cullen couldn't help the laugh that erupted from his chest. Trust fucking McCarty to latch onto that _one_ tiny part of everything that he had just said. He dropped his hands between his knees and nodded with a smirk.

"Oh yeah," he muttered as the image of Miss Swan's ass flashed before him; pert, peachy and aching for his hand across it.

He flinched when Emmett slapped him against his right shoulder blade.

"That's one for the spank-bank my good man," he offered with a wink.

_Damn fucking straight_, Cullen had thought to himself.

He was disturbed from his thoughts by the door he had been staring at for five fucking minutes as it flew open and the visitors were brought in. He felt himself relax when he spotted Jake at the back, intimidating the officers and exciting the women with his height, narrow eyed stare and arms filled with tattoos. Cullen had known Jake since he was a kid and knew better than anyone that his ammo was to appear menacing even before he uttered a fucking word. It was an act that he had down to perfection and the effects were clear as day on the faces of the guard staff.

He tilted his head in Cullen's direction which Cullen mirrored before he picked up the phone, waiting for Jake to do the same.

"Cullen," he said with a grin and a nod as he seated himself, placing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he shook off his jacket.

"Black," he replied, noticing the glaze of his eyes. He was fucking high and he was in a goddamn prison..._fucking idiot..._

"You look like fucking shit, man. What gives?" Jake grinned widely and gestured through the glass towards Cullen's appearance.

Cullen rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you'd think with the pool, sauna and five star meals they're feeding me I'd look better, right?"

Jake held up his palms and smiled. "Point taken," he said with a laugh.

He was, in truth, surprised at just how shitty Cullen did look. His hair was a fucking disaster but that wasn't anything fucking new. He had lost weight and he had dark rings under his eyes that made him look even more fucking brooding. He needed a shave and from the looks of it a stiff drink and an equally stiff fucking.

"So, why am here now when I was meant to be here two fucking days ago?" Jake asked with a shrug.

Cullen dropped his chin slightly and glared as he thought back to Newton and the look on his cunt face when he'd taken his visit away from him. Jake noticed the darkening of Cullen's features and immediately knew what or more _who_ had been the problem.

"The fucker sure as shit doesn't learn," he stated, dropping his voice slightly and glancing surreptitiously towards the officers behind him.

"It would seem not," Cullen replied through gritted teeth.

"Well, maybe he needs a small reminder?" Jake pondered out loud with a dangerous glint in his eye.

Cullen nodded, knowing that that was all the confirmation that Jake needed, and sighed. "So, how are things?"

"Good," Jake replied little too quickly. Cullen cocked an eyebrow that demanded truth from his friend. "Really, man, everything's cool. I haven't heard from Aro or any of his cronies for a few weeks so it's all good." Jake sat back nonchalantly, running a hand through his hair.

Cullen allowed himself to breathe a small sigh of relief. As intimidating, feared and hard ass as Jake Black was, even _he_ was afraid of Aro and his Volturi bastards. He would never show it – hence the blasé reaction – but the two men knew that there was plenty to be afraid of. The Volturi were the reason that Cullen was on one side of the glass and Jake was on the other - but that, in Cullen's eyes, was fine.

He simply saw his time as payment.

"How is everyone?" Cullen asked, pushing his anxieties and concerns to one side.

"Excellent," Jake answered. "Siobhan and her bitches keep asking when you'll be out so they can get their claws into you again." He smirked and shook his head. "I swear they're panting for you, man. There'll be no shortage of desperate pussy for you when you get out, I promise you that shit."

Cullen sniggered and rubbed his hand across his cheek, ignoring the image of Miss Swan on her knees in front of him, that flittered behind his eyelids. _Fuck-hot bitch..._

"Seth's his usual butt-fuck self," Jake continued. "And the rest of the guys are running everything as they should be. The only thing missing is you." He pointed his index finger while clicking his thumb, like the trigger of a gun.

_And whose fucking fault is that...?_

"Yeah," Cullen murmured rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. "I've been trying to do stuff that will get me out sooner. My parole officer comes next week..." he paused and shrugged. "We'll see."

Cullen wasn't completely convinced that the news would be good, what with his chair incident and his meeting with Miss Swan - he could but hope.

"What kind of stuff?" Jake asked. "Blowing other prisoners doesn't count, Cullen," he laughed as Cullen flipped him off."

"You'd fucking know, right?"

"Touché," Jake conceded.

"No, I've...I've been enrolled in a class," Cullen muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed by the words as they left his mouth.

"Oh yeah," Jake asked with a laugh, "Cooking, pottery, gardening?"

"English Literature," Cullen interrupted him, feeling his patience start to dwindle.

Jake was annoying as shit when he was high at the best of times, let alone when he was free to smoke that shit when Cullen wasn't. He could have murdered a goddamn blunt.

"Wow," Jake said with an impressed expression. "Shakespeare and all that shit, huh?"

"Yeah, something like that," Cullen agreed, avoiding Jake's stare. "The teacher's a fucking bitch," h growled towards his lap.

Jake raised his eyebrows in question.

"A _Miss_ Swan," Cullen continued, feeling his hackles rise as he said her name, "Thinks she's fucking God's gift to all things educational."

"Ugly to boot?" Jake laughed.

"Not exactly," Cullen muttered, thinking briefly about Miss Swan's hair. "She just doesn't know when to shut her pretty little mouth."

"Want me to send a message?" Jake asked darkly. "It can be done."

Cullen's eyes met his friends and saw nothing but loyalty and resolve wrapped up in a ferocity that was formidable. Cullen had no doubt that, had he said the words, Jake would have left the facility and made sure that Miss Swan heard loud and clear that Cullen was not to be fucked with. But as Cullen thought about it, the more he realised, he didn't want that. The woman was a fucking pain in his ass - _no doubt_ - but he didn't think she deserved to be approached in any way.

He remembered briefly the warning in Emmett's words and shook his head, never taking his eyes off of Jake.

"No," he said firmly. "_I'll_ deal with it."

=PoF=

The following morning, after several cups of coffee and many more deep breaths, Isabella began setting up her classroom for the session.

She had started to feel slightly better once she had unloaded her frustrations and anger onto Leah. It seemed that with venting she had begun to see the situation a little more objectively. Cullen was an asshole – of that there was no doubt but - she had conceded - he was in a highly tense, anxious and emotional environment and her snapping and demanding him to do what she wanted was not going to make him any less uncooperative.

In fairness he _had_ attempted the task that she had asked him to, not only surprising the hell out of her but leaving her speechless with the word that he had chosen.

Isabella knew without doubt that it was the exact same word she would have chosen too.

It was going to be hard as hell but she had decided that she was at least going to _try_ with Cullen. She was going to try to ignore his eye rolls, unimpressed huffs and his overall patronising attitude. She ran her hands through her hair and glared at his empty seat, imagining his slouch and penetrating stare – yeah, this shit was going to be fucking hard.

Because of her eagerness to get the morning out of the way as quickly as humanly possible she was almost pacing the front of the room, like a cornered lioness, when the inmates were suddenly escorted in, led by Tyler who threw a large smile and wink in her direction.

"Good morning, Tyler," she said with smile and a nod.

He was followed, in single file, by Quil who muttered a half-assed 'morning,' Sam who smiled and waved with the tips of his fingers and Emmett who bowed and winked. She turned from laughing at Emmett and immediately felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart start to stutter in her chest as Cullen strode dominantly into the room, ignoring Isabella entirely and pushing Quil out of the way to get to his seat – not that Isabella minded _that _all that much.

The fire under her skin started to burn in earnest and she quickly realised that she was biting the inside of her mouth – trying with all her might to not knock the arrogant look that was plastered across his face. Her pupils dilated and spread across her irises as the irrational anger and heat that she had apparently quelled with her hypothesising and promise to try, reared instantly as their eyes locked for a split second; emerald against onyx.

Cullen watched Miss Swan as her skin flushed slightly and her lip became wedged firmly between her teeth. He watched as she skimmed her palms down her sides to her hips and watched as the hair she pushed from her face, dripped down her back like a chocolate river. He remained still – enraptured by her movements – but desperate to adjust himself, to relieve the pressure that was being placed on his cock by his overall pants.

_This is fucking ridiculous..._

"Well," Isabella croaked as she made her way to her desk. "I'm glad we are _all_ here."

Cullen managed to hold back the smart assed retort when he picked up on her emphasis of 'all.'

_Did the bitch really think I wouldn't come back? Did she think that I was too chicken shit?_

In truth, all Cullen _had_ thought about was getting back into Miss Swan's class and showing her who was fucking boss. After Jake had left he had taken some time to think about how he was going to do just that without causing problems with his parole. He had been unsuccessful which in turn made him hate the bitch even more. He just wished his fucking dick would receive the memo already.

Isabella distributed the A4 booklets and gave pens out to everyone before handing each of them a piece of paper with a poem printed on it. Cullen scoffed when he recognised the words and pushed it across his desk, not even willing to give it the time of day. He was so above this shit it was untrue. He was convinced she was trying to drive him insane on fucking purpose.

"So, today we are going to start our poetry study which we will do for the next week before we start our Shakespeare play." Isabella rested her backside against her desk, still feeling her skin prickle but managing to keep her eyes off of the man sitting to her right. She had seen his reaction to the poem and had managed to stay quiet; biting her lip so hard she almost drew blood.

She focused on getting her words out and not on the desire she had to glare at him or scowl or some other equally immature and inappropriate gesture – she ruled the line under sticking her tongue out at him.

"I'd like to start by asking what you all know about poetry." Isabella gestured to everyone with open arms.

The room remained silent. Emmett looked at the ceiling as if the answer was written there, while Tyler and Quil looked at her as if she had grown three heads. Sam kept his eyes on the desk in front of him, happy to keep quiet after the fiasco of yesterday's session. He hated confrontations.

After an uncomfortable silence that Cullen thought was seriously going to kill him, Tyler slowly raised his hand, meeting Isabella's eyes with trepidation.

"They can rhyme?" he asked cautiously.

"They can, absolutely," she answered with a smile. "Just like the poem we will be studying, but that's not always the case."

"They're always about pansy ass, pussy shit like love," Emmett moaned from his seat.

Cullen smirked and looked over at him, diverting his eyes from Miss Swan, who he just knew was going to say something pretentious and self righteous - until he heard her laugh - and they flew the fuck back at her with the speed of metal to a magnet.

_...the fuck?_

"That is true in some cases, Emmett, but not in this one," Isabella replied with a shake of her head as she continued to smile at him. "Would I do that to you," she pressed her palm to her chest, "give you pansy ass, pussy shit?"

Emmett laughed loudly along with Tyler and Quil and raised his eyebrows in surprise. This was however nothing compared to the look of absolute fucking shock on Cullen's face. The fact that she had just uttered the word '_pussy_' without balking or blushing or getting girly in any way made the hairs on his body stand on end and his cock twitch. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hand down his face in frustration.

This woman was a goddamn enigma of epic, pain in the ass, proportions.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered into his palms, feeling utterly perplexed by her and the reactions that were careening around his body.

Isabella's head snapped towards him, her blood bubbling under her skin. "I'm sorry, Cullen, I didn't catch that."

Her tone and sass slipped up his spine like an iced finger tip, making him shiver with..._what the hell was that...?_

He dropped his hands to the desk and shot her a daggered glare that made Isabella's heart rate spike.

"I said for fuck's sake," he repeated, annunciating every word as if she was fucking stupid which Cullen thought she was if she really wanted to start on him again this morning.

Isabella continued to stare angrily at him and crossed her arms slowly over her chest, chanting silently at herself to calm down. "Is that right?"

"Yep," he replied, popping the 'p' with enthusiasm.

"Hmm," Isabella hummed. "And may I ask why you feel the need to say that?"

_Only if you say pussy again..._

"You may," he retorted sarcastically as he leaned his forearm on the back of his chair and turned towards her.

Isabella bit her tongue and blinked very slowly at him, knowing that she was playing right into his hands. And playing she was. Cullen was just waiting for the fuse to hit the powder.

"Why did you say 'for fuck's sake'?" she asked through gritted teeth, the blood thundering around her head.

_Jesus...pussy _and_ fuck...?_

Cullen took a deep breath through his nose and let it out oh so fucking slowly, loving the fact that she was almost shaking in anger as he took his sweet time.

"Just..._because_," he answered with a shrug.

He stared at her fuck hot bitch face and smiled his best panty wetting grin, hoping that it drove her to distraction. He wanted to see her fuse blow, he wanted to see her go fucking postal on him – yeah, he was masochistic that way.

They stared at each other, the electric rage between them almost visible against the bland white walls of the room. Everyone else around them, including Angela and Officer West, were lost in the moment, looking between the two of them, waiting for one to break. Like a car wreck; it was impossible to look away.

Cullen was seconds from declaring victory on the whole fucking occasion after two minutes due to the fact that Miss Swan still hadn't reacted, when his ears were suddenly accosted by a loud laugh that originated from..._fuck me_...Miss Swan.

She was almost buckled over in half as she laughed loud coughs of hilarity and small snorts that she tried to smother with the back of her hand. Tears filled her eyes as she giggled and barked out her laughter that was irritatingly contagious, making everyone else in the room (save for Cullen) sniggering and chuckling too.

Cullen glanced around in utter confusion to see everyone else smiling at Miss Swan which tripled the frustration, fury and annoyance as quick as a bullet from a gun.

_Fuck this shit..._

He slammed his hand down, hard enough to split the cheap ass wood on the desk and shoved his chair back with such force that it moved the desk behind it. The whole room became silent except for Isabella's deep breaths that she was taking to try and calm her. She wiped the laughter tears from under her eyes with her finger tips and looked up towards Cullen.

He was seething; that shit was pretty clear but Jesus if he didn't look fucking magnificent doing it.

He waited until she had finally gotten a hold of her crazy ass self and took a deep breath.

"Something fucking funny?" he growled before shooting a glare at Officer West who had moved from his spot by the door.

"Yes," Isabella answered, reining her hysterics in with lightning speed. "Something is very _fucking_ funny."

The fact that the smile on her face disappeared in an instant alerted Cullen to the fact that Miss Swan going postal, was not altogether impossible. She slammed the papers she was holding down on her own desk and placed her hands on her hips.

"Care to share that shit?" Cullen continued taking a tentative step forwards, "Because I don't appreciate being left out of a joke that was obviously fucking hysterical."

He gestured his hand towards Quil whose face dropped the minute their gazes met.

He was intimidating her students again making Isabella twitch with anger.

"You," she murmured through tight lips.

"What?" Cullen asked with a confused frown.

"You, Cullen, are who is funny," Isabella continued, her glare literally scorching through his clothes.

Angela made to move from her seat but was held fast by a hand on her wrist that belonged to Emmett who shook his head no, when she cocked an eyebrow in question. She exhaled and looked back at Cullen who looked like he was just about ready to kill a motherfucker and shit if that wasn't the literal truth. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as he glowered at Isabella, fucking livid that he was in two minds as to whether he wanted to slap the bitch or fuck her until she screamed his name.

"You were laughing at me?" he seethed, each word dripping with rage as it left his mouth.

"That's right," she replied defiantly, feeling a thrill run through her when she noticed his eyes narrow at her words. "I was. Because, Cullen," she pointed at him, "you are one _funny_ guy."

Cullen blinked in disbelief. _Is this woman for real...?_

"And how the fuck did you come to that conclusion, _Miss Swan_?" he snarled loudly, making everyone in the room flinch.

"Come on now, Cullen," Officer West murmured softly as he glanced quickly at Isabella, utterly confused by the tiny woman and her apparent death wish.

"Well, just listen to yourself," Isabella replied, ignoring the officer completely. "You think you're so above all this but when I actually _ask _you a question the best you can come up with is '_Just...because..._' What the hell do you think this is sixth grade?" Her voice got gradually louder as she got to the end of her rant, as she struggled to keep her temper in check.

Cullen threw an irate hand through the hair on his head and took a deep breath, allowing her question to filter through his brain, each word she had uttered, burning him from the inside like drops of acid.

"I've said it before," Cullen muttered, dropping his eyes to the floor in an effort to cool himself. "And I'll say it again. Watch. Your. Fucking. Mouth."

Isabella smirked at his attempts to scare and intimidate her and took a step towards him, showing that she was neither. "And like I said before. _You_. Watch. Yours."

Her defiant smirk and the way her eyes danced at him as she moved towards him were what flipped the switch on Cullen's fury. He put his hands under the edge of the desk in front of him and flung it hard towards the wall with an almighty roar, the sound of the wood hitting the plastic covered brick, echoing around the room like a death toll

Everyone who had been sitting were immediately on their feet, with Officer West, grabbing his baton and lunging towards Cullen before he got closer to Isabella who was glued to the spot behind a psyched up Emmett.

This was the shit Emmett was talking about. Not that he wanted to see Miss S in danger, far from it. He jus seemed to understand that Cullen – as unhinged as his moods were – wouldn't intentionally hurt her. Something in the way his jaw tensed and his eyes danced made him think that – as with many things with Cullen – it was all for show.

Isabella watched in alarm around Emmett's shoulder as Cullen tried to grab at the chair he had been sitting on, being stopped by Officer West, who threw him against the wall. Two more officers were suddenly in the room – called by the panic alarm that had been hit by Angela - and were upon him in a second.

Isabella flinched as she heard Cullen's grunts and curses when they pushed and pummelled him hard while cuffing him.

"_Ah_...fucker, that's my fucking wrist!" he yelled into the face of one of the officers, before being slammed into the wall again, face first.

Isabella watched in shock as the officer twisted his wrist further with a sadistic smile on his face, making Cullen groan in pain. _That shit was just not fair...or right..._

"Hey!" she cried out, whipping under Emmett's arm, past Tyler, Sam and a laughing Quil and storming over to the rabble of breathless and angry men.

Cullen, whose left cheek was pressed into the wall, eyed Miss Swan furiously as she put her hands back on her hips and scowled at the fuck wit who had tried to snap the bone in his wrist.

"I saw that," she fumed, pointing towards Cullen's cuffs. "You don't need to hurt him like that. It's unnecessary."

"Oh, Miss Swan, it's very necessary," the officer retorted with a hard voice that came from beating little fuckers like Cullen up for over a decade. "You need to keep them in check, see," he continued, pulling Cullen into an upright position.

Cullen groaned as he did, feeling a dull ache in his left side which he knew came from the baton that crashed into him there. Isabella gasped when she noticed a ring of blood that outlined his left nostril which had begun to run down his lip.

"He's bleeding!"

"He's fine," the asshole guard barked with wide eyes. He pulled Cullen along with another guard but was halted by Isabella's hand on his chest.

"Wait!" She paused for a quick second before going to her purse and retrieving a pack of tissues. She pulled one out and walked back towards Cullen whose face read a million and one different things. The most prevalent at that point being '_What. The. Fuck?'_

He started to protest as her hand moved towards his face. "You don't need to fucking..."

"Shut up and let me help you," Isabella hissed with a finality and insistence that shut Cullen's mouth with a snap.

He took a deep breath, holding back his retort, as the tissue in her hand swiped at the blood – because, if he was honest, he didn't want fucking blood all over him. He kept his eyes firmly on Isabella's face and the look of resolve that lay there.

_Yeah, she __is a stubborn one, _he'd give her that. _And…fucking beautiful..._

He let his eyes move slowly around her face from her hairline to her eyes that seemed softer somehow. The fire was still there, of that Cullen was damn fucking sure, only now it looked like it smouldered instead of blazed. He wasn't sure which he preferred more but he knew, without doubt, that _both_ made his cock twitch and his heart beat like a goddamn Daytona racer.

His eyes continued to travel down her nose and to her mouth. He smirked when he saw her start to bite her lip as she moved the tissue past his own, to his chin where the blood had run, intrigued and frustrated to all hell that he didn't know what she was thinking.

She wiped gently but determinedly until he looked a damn sight better than he had done after the officers had manhandled him so aggressively. _Yes_, he was a conceited prick but he hadn't deserved their treatment. She looked intently around his face and noticed a mark starting to appear on his cheek.

The speed at which she pulled her hand away from him surprised Cullen to shit, but not as much as the urge to touch his face had been for Isabella. She cleared her throat of her stupidity and dropped her eyes from his.

"All done," she muttered quietly as she wiped a spot of blood that had landed on her thumb.

Cullen frowned down at her, suddenly feeling exceedingly pissed that she was neither looking at him nor snapping at his ass. Her timid side apparently angered him. He opened his mouth to say something smart about it but the words seemed to stick in his throat.

Instead he rolled his eyes in her direction and scoffed. "Whatever," he muttered before the three guards marched him past her and out of the classroom.

Isabella sighed as she watched their retreating forms and threw the bloodied tissue hard into the trash can.

=PoF=

Mike Newton's head the following morning felt like it had been stamped on by a stiletto wearing elephant.

He was stressed and needed a fucking vacation. The stress was mainly from work. Dealing with fucking idiots like Edward Cullen and running the education department as it should be was tough but it was definitely not being helped by the cold shouldered silence that he was receiving from his wife. He had no clue what her fucking problem was and try as he might; he couldn't coax it from her either. They hadn't had slept together in two weeks and Newton was convinced his dick was just about ready to drop off in search of a more exciting sex life.

He had whacked off in the shower every day. Trying to relieve some of the tension by picturing Isabella Swan and he locked in a cell with nothing but each other to keep warm. It worked like a charm every time, so much so in fact that he had locked his office door that previous afternoon and thought about it again which was unheard of for him.

He had been in a mellow, relaxed state until he had received a call that Cullen had gone fucking nuts again in Miss Swan's class. The guy had a serious problem; especially if he thought he would be achieving early parole when he behaved like a fucking thug. He was confined and his councillor was called. Newton didn't need that shit; out of sight out of mind.

He dressed for work as he did every morning, sliding into another new suit that he thought offset the blue in his eyes nicely. He smiled at himself in the mirror and tweaked the piece of hair that was gelled rock hard at the front of his head. _Yeah, he still had it..._

His wife, Jessica, had already left for the day, leaving him cold buttered toast and tepid coffee for his breakfast. He pushed the toast into the trash and poured the coffee away with annoyance, grumbling to himself about why she even bothered her ass. He'd grab something on the way to work like he always did anyway.

He picked up his briefcase and keys and walked out of the front door after setting the house alarm, closing his eyes gently against the hot New York sun.

He opened them back up as he skipped down the six steps of his Brownstone before skidding to an abrupt halt when he laid eyes on his car, or rather, what was _left_ of his car.

How the hell the alarm hadn't gone off he had no clue, let alone how the fuck no one had seen anything and alerted him to it.

He looked in a daze up and down his street to see one small ginger cat strut indifferently towards him up the sidewalk. He dropped his chin and let his gaze come back to his Mercedes…and the shattered glass, smeared black paint, buckled metal and wheel arches that were now…without wheels; feeling his eyes sting with fury.

He'd only had the car for three fucking months bought new after his last car was stolen and found burnt out and abandoned two days later behind a warehouse in Queens...

He flipped his phone open slowly and dialled 911.

Today was going to be a long fucking day.

**Holy bloodied and angry PunkAssward owns my kitty, Batman!**

**Hope you liked that tender moment? What will happen to Cullen now that he's been naughty again? Will Isabella wish for more blood so that she can once again play nurse? And how the holy hell will Newton get to work?**

**Tune in next week...same Bat-time, same Bat-station...**

**Leave me love**

**TTFN xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**You *points to fuck awesome readers* are all freaking ammmmmazing!**

**I cannot believe the reaction to this story. I know I've said it before but…damn…thank you so much!**

**Big huge Bat kisses and Robin smooches to the girls on the thread – Mental, Bouncy and everyone – thank you for your support (and porn – YUM!)**

**Huge booby shakes to Rachel and Kristen – you know I heart you hard bbs! This one's for you two.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 5: Truce**

–_**noun**_

_1. a suspension of hostilities for a specified period of time by mutual agreement of the warring parties; cease-fire; armistice. __**2 .**__an agreement or treaty establishing this. __**3.**__ a temporary respite, as from trouble or pain._

Isabella rolled over and shut the alarm off before it even turned on. She was wide awake and had been for over an hour. She rolled back into the position she had been lying in for that duration of time and with a grimace and a deep laboured breath, while analysing the swirls of paint that covered her bedroom ceiling, continued to contemplate the events of the previous twenty-four hours

To say that she was confused would have been a gross understatement. Even though there were definite elements of the confused about her, it wasn't a big enough word to describe what and how she was feeling. Discombobulated was a longer, bigger word but again it just didn't fit. Isabella had been running words – mostly adjectives – through her head, trying to find one that would sum up the torrent of...whatever it was that was driving her damn near distraction.

She felt lost, angry, frustrated and completely exhausted and that was only the tip of the proverbial emotional iceberg.

She had tossed and turned all night (thankfully without her nightmares) thinking, cogitating and deliberating about what her next move would be in order to correct the clusterfuck that was her relationship with her student, Cullen. But even with eight hours of rumination she was still no closer to knowing what the best course of action was.

The one thing that she was sure about was the fact that the second lesson with Cullen had been a complete fucking disaster - and that was putting it mildly. She had tried to be calm – _God how she'd tried_ – but it just wasn't enough. She had still managed to become totally enraged by him and his I-don't-give-a-flying-fuck attitude.

If Isabella had been a betting woman she would have bet her entire fortune that she and Cullen could have spent longer than fifteen minutes in a room together without one of them bleeding or screaming at the other. She breathed a sigh of relief that her father's gambling tendencies had not been genetic.

It had, she mused, started well, until he made some asshole comment about the work and she had been unable to keep her shit together. She felt as though he had a remote control that was tuned into her adrenal gland and that every time he spoke or moved or did fucking anything; he was affecting that in some way.

The feeling of utter helplessness against her own emotions when she was near him was something that terrified and excited Isabella in equal measure. The people closest to her knew that being in control of all aspects of her life was one thing that Isabella was always adamant about. Having experienced what she had through the loss of her father and having no control over the whole tragic episode, she had become exceptionally determined and at her very worst, stubborn as hell.

Cullen, it seemed, had the key to that very part of her and she wanted it back.

She had no idea what it was about him that made her so on edge so not in control. He was, after all, just like the other four men that she taught. Well, that wasn't exactly true; he was a lot more combative and exceedingly more aggressive and – she winced at the thought – he was a lot more attractive too. She had tried to not see him in any other way than her student (and a criminal one at that) but it was hard to ignore the height, hard edges and beauty of the man who drove her crazy.

His face was that of a sculpture; chiselled and defined, from his high forehead, to his cheek bones, all the way to his jaw that could cut through glass. He oozed strength and masculinity and Isabella could no longer deny that that aspect of Cullen was starting to affect her more and more. The overwhelming urge to touch the bruise that was forming on his cheek from where it had met the wall had shocked the hell out of her.

She suddenly seemed to have no power over her hand or its intentions as it had started to move towards his face just under his eye, where his bone jutted out in all its sculptured glory. She wanted to ease the redness of it through her finger tips and sooth the ache that she just knew was burning under his skin, but she couldn't.

She wouldn't.

She ran the same finger tips across her clammy forehead as she remembered the way he had looked at her when she had offered to help clean the blood that was running down his face.

She could see that he was disgusted – at first. And then, through her touch and sassy response to his manly bullshit, he seemed to realise that she was just trying to help. And that's all she had been doing.

At least that's what she kept telling herself.

She had focused hard on wiping the blood away - watching the swiping motion of the tissue - but she had felt every movement he had made as she did. Every time he took a breath and it whispered across her hand under his nose, she swallowed and every time his mouth twitched into one of his smart ass smirks she felt her lungs squeeze and her heart slam against her rib cage. _He was such an asshole..._

With a gasp, Isabella realised that the warmth that had appeared in her stomach from her memories had spread between her legs, making her flesh tingle and twitch inside and out. With her head pressed into her pillow, she closed her eyes and bit her lip, trying to calm her body down. But the more she tried, the more she remembered the feel of his eyes on her face as she cleaned him.

_Jesus,_ it was almost as if they burned a trail of scorching white heat wherever they landed on her body, making her breathless and undeniably wet.

Just as she was at that moment.

She groaned and clenched her eyes tighter, desperate to ignore the desire to touch herself and release the pressure that was building with light speed between her thighs.

Isabella hated him for it. She hated the person she became when she was near him. She hated the lack of control that she felt, she even hated that she cared enough to help him when he was bloody and she fucking hated that he could make her wetter than she had ever been in her life, _even _when he wasn't in the same fucking room!

She rubbed her palms down her face and groaned into her skin. She knew better than to get involved in _any_ way - other than professional - with _any_ person that she taught; man, woman or child. She knew that she loved her job too much to put it in any kind of jeopardy by examining these reactions any more than was entirely necessary. She was an adult professional and no one, not _even_ Cullen could make her forget that.

Isabella ran her hands through her hair until they were behind her head and sighed long and deep, because the truth was, no matter what she tried to convince herself of, there was still one _undeniable_ certainty.

She simply could not overlook the fact that she _liked_ the feel of Cullen's eyes on her.

She liked the way that he looked at her while she was cleaning him. She liked the feel of his stare when she pissed him off and she liked the fire behind the green that seemed to become an all out inferno when she called him out on his bullshit.

Maybe she _was_ sadistic but there was no denying that Cullen was at his _most_ beautiful when he was furious. His rage seemed to make his skin glow and the frown lines - that Isabella imagined were indentations caused by his hatred for everything around him - dissolved, leaving his face serene and flawless. He was, in those moments, the most breathtaking creature she had ever seen and it frightened her to death.

As scared as she was when he had flung the table at the wall during her class, she had been unable to tear her eyes from him, watching with fascination as the beast inside him roared in anger. It was a sound that made her ribs vibrate and her pupils dilate. He was animalistic and for that brief time utterly un-caged and that thought alone made parts of Isabella's body come alive in spectacular fashion.

Maybe that was why she had disliked the guard's treatment of him so much? Maybe he was meant to be unleashed in that way? Isabella had to admit to herself that it was the side of Cullen that she desired and detested with equal fervour.

But no matter what her body thought of the matter, Isabella knew with her head that the guard twisting his wrist was completely uncalled for. Cullen hadn't deserved that.

And she would tell Mike Newton that very thing when she got to work…

But for whatever reason, Mike Newton was not at work when she got there, so instead, feeling a little disheartened and still a lot confused, Isabella began setting up her classroom for the next session, trying her hardest not to think about whether Cullen would even turn up or if he was even allowed to. She pulled at the hem of her blouse in frustration as she realised the part of her that wanted him in her classroom far outweighed the part that didn't and cursed out loudly in irritation.

"Wrong side of the bed this morning?"

Angela's voice floated from the doorway clearing Isabella's head for all of five seconds before the battle within it started again in earnest. She smiled gently and raised her eyebrows, unable to articulate correctly why she was cursing to an empty room. It didn't matter to Angela that Isabella couldn't explain why she looked so flustered and tired. She knew what or rather _who_ the reason was because _he_ was looking exactly the same. He just hid it slightly better.

Angela had seen Cullen when she had been called by Mike Newton to sit in, as witness (along with Garrett) on the discussion of his future in any or all of Miss Swan's lessons. Cullen, as expected, said very little and simply snarled and grunted responses when it was decided that he would be removed permanently from Miss Swan's lessons and all others until he learned to "keep his temper."

Angela had rolled her eyes at Newton's words, knowing full well that there was no way in hell that Cullen could promise such a thing. For fuck's sake the man had been to more anger therapy sessions than she had had hot meals and there was still no difference in him.

He was a live wire, a hot-head - pick your cliché – but Angela knew beneath it all he wasn't a_ bad_ guy. He made stupid fucking choices but he wasn't a _bad_ person and if she was honest the way that he acted with Isabella was unlike anything she had seen from him before. He was angry and aggressive, of course, that was his ammo. But underneath that, she had seen glints of something else..._the way he looked at Isabella_...Angela couldn't help but hope that one day a man would look at her in that way.

_Ice and fire...passion and fury..._

Isabella, who was oblivious to Angela's views on her and Cullen's interactions, had been more than a little pissed that she had not been asked to sit in on the meeting, but Newton had told her not to worry and that he would 'handle' it. She had eyed him suspiciously, aggravated by his condescending and lecherous hand on her shoulder and begrudgingly agreed. It may have been a bad idea to be in the same room with Cullen so soon after he had thrown a table across her room anyway, even if a part o her wanted to be.

"So how did it go?" Isabella asked quickly, seeing that they had five minutes before her students were brought in. She would much rather be prepared if Cullen would be attending. Her body's reactions to him could be slightly more controlled if she was anticipating his presence. She smiled sarcastically to herself.

_Who the fuck are you kidding, Swan? The guy has the map and instruction manual of every button in your body..._

"He's been removed," Angela answered plainly while placing her bag on her seat. "Newton told him that his temper is out of control and that he is a danger to himself and others."

Isabella winced at the words. She knew as well as Angela did that Cullen didn't _really_ pose _too _much of a danger. If anything, it was his danger that seemed to draw Isabella in...Because she _was_ drawn in by him...she couldn't deny that anymore.

"Shit," she muttered towards her feet, while feeling strangely disappointed. "How did he take it?"

Angela gave her a meagre smile. "As Cullen always does; a few curses and a growl."

Isabella couldn't help but smile back at that, picturing him doing exactly that while sitting in her classroom. Angela cleared her throat and took a step towards her.

"This is going to affect his parole," she said softly with regret.

Isabella's eyebrows lifted in suprise. She didn't even know he'd been considered for it.

Angela went on to explain how Cullen had been enrolled in her classes to prove to the courts that he could make improvements in his rehabilitation and that he could 'better' himself inside. Isabella found that particular phrasing offensive in the extreme.

Of course the guy was a difficult pain in the ass but it wouldn't hurt if he wasn't treated the way he was by the guards and Mike Newton, she thought. Maybe then they would see some improvement in him? Maybe if she hadn't baited him...?

She suddenly felt a sharp pang of guilt. She was there to teach and help and nurture and all she had done was rile and potentially affect her student's parole. She had behaved utterly unprofessional in the way se had goaded and provoked him.

She herself – the teacher, the one who was meant to diffuse and calm - was causing problems with her inability to keep her head around Cullen. She shook her head at her own stupidity and recklessness and gripped the edge of the table that she was leaning against. She realised she needed to pull herself together quick and do something more positive.

"When is his parole up for review?" Isabella asked, crossing her arms slowly over her chest.

Angela looked at her for a beat, considering the change of light in her eyes before she answered, "His parole officer comes in next week but his review with the board..." she shrugged, "End of the summer?"

Isabella's new found need to work with Cullen instead of against him while arguing and aggravating surprised Isabella. She had known him all of two days, spoken maybe a dozen words to him, mostly through gritted teeth and rage, but still, she knew, deep down - somewhere in her stomach - that there was something about him, something more, something that set him apart from the other students in her class. Something that called to her in a way she had never experienced.

He was stubborn as a mule, frustrating as all hell and had a self righteousness that would force any sane person to drink.

But in spite of all that, Isabella had the overwhelming desire to put things right; to help.

That _was_ her debt after all.

Isabella nodded in resolve and ran a determined hand through her hair.

"What?" Angela asked with a smile, seeing the spark in Isabella's eyes that had been dull when she first entered the room. "What are you thinking?"

Isabella smiled in response, feeling her own fortitude and tenacity rise to the surface of her now hot skin. "I'm thinking," she started with a small smirk, "that Mr Cullen is just going have to start dealing with being around me more often."

=PoF=

"Harder!"

Cullen grunted.

"I said harder you fucking pussy. I didn't feel a fucking thing!"

Cullen grunted again, louder this time as his curled up fist slammed hard into the red protective shield that the prison's gym officer, Alec Parker, was holding in front of his chest.

"Fuck's sake my three year old hits harder than that shit – and she's a girl! Again!"

Cullen's eyes clenched and his knuckles turned the same shade of white as the bandages around them as, with a terrifying roar, he began pummelling the shield with everything that he had inside of him. The hate, anger, desire, need, frustration and want burst from him through his fists with such force that Alec found himself walking backwards. _This was what he wanted to see..._

After thirty seconds, Cullen's bare arms began to slow as the adrenaline and burn began through his inked shoulders, down his equally patterned biceps and into his forearms that screamed under the relentless pounding that they were receiving. He gasped, groaned and panted and almost kissed Parker's ugly ass face when he told him he was done.

He loved the work out. It was the only part of his anger management that he really enjoyed. The in house shrink had suggested that Parker work with Cullen after one of his notorious tantrums, to try and vent some of the tension that he was feeling. It worked somewhat but still couldn't be beaten by the euphoric glow after a good fuck which, Cullen realised more and more, he was goddamn desperate for.

_Who with_ exactly, was a bone of contention that Cullen had been chomping on for over twenty-four hours.

He slumped against the blue mat that he had been standing on and lay on his back, feeling his chest rise and fall like a fucking trampoline. He really needed to quit fucking smoking. His knuckles smarted and his face throbbed from where the fat fucker guard had smashed him into the wall during Miss Swan's class. He was drenched with sweat and could feel it running under him like a gross snail line. Even without a t-shirt on, Parker's workouts made his entire body steam.

"You did good," Alec muttered, peering over Cullen's limp body holding out a bottle of water.

"You nearly fucking killed me," Cullen replied dryly, taking it from him with a shaking hand.

He groaned as he sat up, feeling his muscles protest immediately and downed half of the bottle in three giant gulps, dribbling some down his back in an attempt to ease the heat.

"Jesus, Parker, I think I've aged fifty fucking years." Cullen rubbed his neck for effect. Parker simply rolled his eyes sarcastically and signed and dated the session sheet on his clipboard that needed to be given to the shrink.

"You need to quit fucking smoking," Parker grumbled as he clicked the end of his pen and slid it back into his pocket. Cullen laughed and nodded in agreement.

"You pushed hard though," Parker continued, knowing that he was about to enter dangerous territory, "More than usual. Something on your mind?"

Parker and Cullen had built up a fairly straightforward relationship over the seven months that they had been working together. Cullen respected Parker's no bullshit attitude and he liked the way he demanded more from him without being a pussy about it like Mike fucking Newton. Plus, he kept him fit.

But Cullen wasn't entirely convinced that he could tell him what he wanted to know. He scoffed inwardly because Jesus fuck if even _he _knew what he could say to describe the carnival that was currently taking place inside his head.

His last session with Miss Swan had been a fucking nightmare at best. He had lost his shit with her because she was acting like a fucking know-it-all-prissy-righteous-bitch. As. Per. Fucking. Usual.

He clenched his teeth at the memory; Parker, noticing the tension in his jaw immediately and bristled slightly at the potential blow back he was about to receive, but Cullen was too oblivious to his trainer's worries and was entirely too busy mulling over what had occurred.

He was truthfully amazed that it was only a table that he had thrown against the wall when Miss Swan had done what she had because he honestly wanted to rip the entire fucking room to pieces.

She had fucking laughed at him.

Laughed.

At. Him.

He had never in his life been so angry, so completely filled with rage that the only way for it to manifest itself was to pick up the table and hurl it as hard as he could. In retrospect it was a fucking dumb idea but he had had no control of himself at all. He knew that it would lead to a serious conversation with Garrett and he would pull out his fucking '_I'm disappointed'_ hat and wear it all day long – which he had. And he knew that Newton would have something prick-like to say but truthfully, Cullen really couldn't have given two flying fucks about what _he_ thought or said.

The one thing that did bother him however and had been since he walked from Newton's office after the 'incident meeting,' was the fact that he had been banned from Miss Swan's lessons – indefinitely. He wasn't allowed near her or her lessons in fact and for some reason, that was not sitting well with him.

The irony was not lost on him at all. He had bitched and moaned about being enrolled in a class. He had complained and kicked up a fuss with Garrett, Newton _and_ his parole officer but it had had no effect. Yet, here he was, confused as all hell because a part of him wanted to be in her class, listening to her wax lyrical about poetry and shit that he already knew. He wanted to sit in his seat at the front of her class and stare at her, trying to intimidate her.

Fuck, he'd even go so far as to have her shout at him again because shit if that wasn't the hottest thing ever.

Miss Swan was well and truly inside his head and he wasn't sure whether to be truly disturbed or delighted by it. He hardly knew her, had hardly spoken to her, yet he couldn't get her face or more irritatingly her laugh out of his head. For something that had made him act like a complete fucking psycho her laugh was undeniably..._nice_.

He huffed and supped the last dregs of his water out of the bottle before launching it towards the garbage can where it landed with a crash.

"Nothing important," he muttered, avoiding Parker's gaze.

Parker frowned, hesitatingly slightly before taking a step towards Cullen and sitting down next to him on the mat with a thump. This was unchartered territory for the two men and the uncomfortable expression on Cullen's face said it all.

"I heard about your...episode…in Miss Swan's class," Parker offered diplomatically.

Cullen's face immediately went grave with Parker practically _seeing_ the hackles rise on his back. He held up his hands in peace. "Hey, man, no judgement here."

Cullen took a breath and dropped his eyes from Parker's quickly before he saw the uneasiness there. He leaned over and grabbed the t-shirt that he had dragged off of himself only fifteen minutes into their session and used it to rub his face and chest before exhaling loudly down his nose. Parker waited.

"It's just," Cullen began, having no clue what he was about to say. "Straight off, I don't give a shit about these fucking lessons. I mean, I'm not stupid, I read shit and I know what I know but…I have to do them for my parole."

Parker remained quiet, silently amazed that Cullen was even talking to him, let alone about the topic at hand. Cullen appreciated his quiet.

"But this woman…" He stopped himself quickly, wanting nothing more than to bite his own fucking tongue off. Parker noticed the pinch in Cullen's face so didn't ask him to continue.

"I don't know," Cullen finished quietly, more to himself than to the man sitting to his right. It was the most honest and best explanation he could give because he didn't know. He didn't know why he wanted to be back in Miss Swan's class. He didn't know why she made him feel the way he did, all rage and passion and he didn't know why she had cleaned him when he was bleeding.

The one thing he _did_ know was that he liked it. He liked her doing it and he liked her being so close to him. It had given him a chance to look at her properly. She was beautiful, he couldn't deny that shit. He had seen many beautiful women and been with even more but there was something different about Miss Swan's beauty. She was natural, wore hardly any make-up and he was damn sure her tits were what God had given her. He'd thought about touching them...

His mind it seemed was still being ruled by his cock and Miss Swan's apparent libido voodoo shit. He realised at that moment that he had been hard almost the entire time he was near her. _That_ was fucked up.

The one thing that did puzzle him the most however was why she would want to help him in the first place. He had to admit, he had been nothing but a complete and utter asshole punk the whole hour and twenty minutes that they had been in each others company. (He refused to acknowledge the fact that he knew the exact time scale.) Why the hell had she acted that way, cleaning him and shouting at the guard; not that he didn't appreciate that shit? He just couldn't figure her out but he was almost insane with wanting the opportunity to do so.

But, he fumed silently; the table incident had put a stop to that.

He was mad at himself for allowing her to affect him in that way but mostly he was mad that he had responded in such a way. His parole officer was going to be pissed.

Parker watched with sympathetic and incredulous eyes as Cullen fell back onto the mat with a curse and a moan of complete frustration.

=PoF=

Mike Newton threw his briefcase down on his desk hard while keeping his phone glued to his ear.

"I don't give a shit!" he yelled, feeling the vein in his forehead expand. "I want to know what I can do to prove that it was Cullen's fuckers that did it!"

Private Investigator Joseph Jenks sighed in exasperation and ran his palm down the bare back of his wife as she slept off their morning lovemaking at his side. She had such beautiful, soft skin.

"Watch what you say over the phone, accusations at this point are worthless. Calm the fuck down, Newton," he grumbled.

Newton pinched the bridge of his nose. "_Calm_ down? _Calm down?_ The bastards have destroyed two $40,000 cars in as many months! Do your job and find out who's behind it and then maybe, just _maybe I'll calm down!"_

He went to slam the phone down then remembered quickly that he was talking on his cell. His thumb almost cracked the screen as he pressed the end call before throwing it so that it span awkwardly across his desk before slamming against his computer.

A timid knock on the door made his head snap up, "What!"

The pale face of his assistant poked through the small gap between the door and the frame, her blue eyes etched with trepidation. "Um...I have Miss Swan here to see you if you have a moment?"

Newton straightened up immediately, cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. "Yeah, send her in," he replied quickly with a wave of his hand. At last something to brighten up his fucked up morning.

Isabella walked past Newton's assistant, sending her a sympathetic look that she had to put up with his grouchy, smarmy ass day in and day out. She nodded knowingly in response and set off back to her desk where she was determined to hide for the rest of the afternoon.

"Good morning, Miss Swan," Newton offered as Isabella walked towards his desk, gesturing towards the chair at the other side of his desk. He watched as she sat down and crossed her legs, feeling his cheeks tinge pink when he remembered the fantasy of those same legs wrapped around him that he had while he was in the shower that morning. He'd cum like a fucking freight train…

"Good morning," she replied. "Is everything ok?" she asked as she took in his slightly ruffled appearance.

Newton once again straightened his tie and checked the sleeves of his shirt before he took his own seat, "Oh yeah, yeah just some...car trouble this morning." His smile was tight and it didn't reach his eyes.

There was a pause while Isabella nodded slowly, knowing there was something more while Newton stared right back offering nothing else.

"So," he said while patting his palms on the desk. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," Isabella started with a hand through her hair. She was slightly nervous about her proposal to Newton but she knew what she had to do to achieve the outcome that she wanted. "I heard that the incident with Cullen yesterday could affect his application for early parole."

"There's no could about it," Newton answered brusquely, making a mental note to ask Angela why she thought to divulge that piece of information. "He's not going anywhere for the next nine months."

Something in his tone - _a pleasure, maybe _- set Isabella on edge.

"Yes," she countered, keeping her tone as pleasant as possible. "Well, I understand that he has a meeting with his parole officer next week."

"Monday," Newton nodded confused as to why that would interest her. _Where the hell is she going with this?_

"And I also understand that it isn't just good behaviour that can affect the decision of the parole committee when they meet in September." Isabella's eyebrow cocked when she saw the look of surprise that washed over Newton's face. _Yes, I've been doing my homework..._

He sat forward in his seat and rested his elbows on the desk deciding that being frank with her would be the only way of finding out what she wanted. His gut told him that he wasn't going to like it one bit.

"Miss Swan, where are you going with this?"

Isabella didn't miss a beat. "I have taken the liberty of setting up a meeting with Cullen's corrections councillor, Garrett Volture this afternoon and would very much like to speak with his parole officer when she arrives on Monday. I know either yourself or Garrett can arrange that for me..."

Newton held a hand up to stop her becoming impatient as he was known to do. _What. The. Fuck?_

"I'm sorry but I have to ask again. Where are you going with this, Miss Swan?"

Isabella swallowed and sat herself forward too. "I want to tutor Cullen," she answered determinedly.

For a moment Newton looked utterly perplexed. "You did," he countered slyly, "and he has been removed because it's apparent to everyone that you two _don't_ get on."

Isabella ignored the slight sting in his tone and pushed on. "That may be so but I can't help feeling that I maybe wasn't as...patient as I should have been with him."

She knew it was an understatement but Newton didn't. He simply thought she was completely bat shit crazy. Isabella carried on regardless. "I want to help him in any way I can. I also know that he has been banned from all other subjects too so his options are minimal."

_Fucking Angela and her fat mouth_, Newton seethed.

Isabella noticed the red tips of his ears as he clasped his hands under his chin. "I think that if I can get Cullen on a one to one," she continued. "Then the chances of him going off will significantly reduce."

Isabella had considered this particular point in detail before she entered Newton's office. The fact that Cullen intimidated her students was one of the reasons that she lost her shit with him. If it was just the two of them then that would surely make things better, right?

_Jesus, I hope so…_

Newton slumped back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He was utterly lost and mystified and really had no idea what the hell Isabella thought she was doing.

"Miss Swan," he muttered quickly. "Just to clarify here," Isabella nodded, ignoring the patronising undertones as Newton pressed his index finger to his desk. "You want to tutor Cullen...on a one to one...because you want to _help_ him with his application for early parole?"

Isabella paused for a moment letting his words sink in, making sure that she had covered everything. She nodded and smiled when she realised she had. Newton stared at her incredulously.

_Why the hell does she want to do this? Cullen is an asshole punk who almost carved an Isabella Swan shape in her own classroom wall when his temper hit. What would possess her to be in a room on a one to one with him?_

He shook his head firmly. "I can't allow it," he stated with finality. It was unfortunate for Newton that the word '_can't_' was not part of Isabella's vocabulary – especially when she wanted something.

"Hmm," she mused, chewing on the inside of her mouth with irritation. "Can I ask why?"

Newton bit his tongue at her sassy tone, knowing that she could very well hand him his ass on a plate but that was overshadowed by the fact that she was attempting to do that in his own office, making his blood start to boil.

He smirked sardonically and straightened his shoulders. "I _cannot_ authorise you to be put in a room with Cullen alone..."

"There would be a guard," she interrupted quickly.

Newton exhaled in annoyance at the silly little girl in front of him. "Splitting hairs aside, Miss Swan, you have been hired by the facility to teach a group of inmates during an allotted time. On a timetable. _Not_ to work as a one to one tutor." He lifted his hands to the heavens in mock sympathy. "It's not in your contract and the facility can't afford to pay you extra for this."

Isabella smiled at Newton but it was in no way a pleasant one. She knew he would take this angle and knew without doubt that it made no difference whatsoever to her whether she got paid to do the job or not. As a rule, she never spoke about her wealth, as in the past it had made people uncomfortable, but with Mike Newton, it wouldn't bother her one iota whether he got uncomfortable or not.

"Mr Newton," she began with a wry tone and an unwavering stare that made him shift uneasily in his seat. "You and I both know that the money side of things isn't an issue." It may have been bordering on conceited when put that way but Isabella was tired of playing Newton's petty, _I-am-omnipotent_ game.

"I'm not doing this for the money," she spat at him, hiding it behind a tight lipped smile.

_I _have_ to do it…_

Newton sat back in his seat so that it swung backwards then forwards like a goddamn Weeble. He observed the woman in front of him seriously. If she wasn't doing it for the money then what _was_ she doing it for?

He had it on good authority that she and Cullen, had done nothing but bicker and fight, the entire time they were in each others presence. What made him so special that she would use her spare time to 'help' him? Because, as Newton thought about it more, he would be damned if she was doing this shit on _his_ time – if at all.

"I have to admit I'm puzzled here, Miss Swan," he said after a tense moment of silence. "You seemed to detest each other on sight. What _exactly_ would you be doing this for? What would _you_ be getting out of it?"

She tried to ignore the sarcasm and insinuation in his voice and folded her hands together on her lap. "I am a teacher so by definition my job is to teach. That's all I want to do. Cullen obviously finds it difficult to be in a classroom environment with other students so the only solution is to take him out of it." Her glare became fierce. "I believe I can help him and his learning will be _all_ I will get out of it."

Newton held back his eye roll.

"Besides," Isabella continued, deciding to hit his pride. "If he gets granted his early parole, won't that make _your_ life easier?" She knew that he and Cullen had a worse relationship than she did and she also know from small tid-bits of information from Angela that Cullen's attitude drove him up the wall.

Newton smirked as the same thought passed through his own head before muttering, "If only," as he thought about the ton of mangled Mercedes metal that was now sitting in the police impound. He rubbed his hands down his face and sighed. "I still have to say no, Miss Swan. It just raises too many questions and the extra guard time…"

"Yes," Isabella snapped, feeling her patience storm out of the door she had entered not ten minutes before. "Talking of guards, has the guard who assaulted Cullen been reprimanded in any way?"

Newton bit back a curse and kept his eyes firmly on Isabella's. _Fuck._

"Assaulted?" He asked, knowing exactly what and who she was referring to.

"Yes," Isabella replied, narrowing her eyes at the guilt on his face. "He twisted Cullen's wrist in a purely aggressive way. It was completely unnecessary and utterly antagonistic. I was shocked."

She sat wide eyed with a hand on her chest to signify (only slightly embellished) the shock she felt. She may have been pushing it but she wanted Newton to receive the message loud and clear. She knew that nothing had been done about it, even though it would have been caught on the security cameras from her classroom.

"I see," Newton murmured through gritted teeth. "Well, of course we do not tolerate any violence against any inmate at Arthur Kill. I will look into it."

"Good," Isabella replied without moving her lips. _The gloves were off…_

Isabella knew as well as Newton did that she had big friends in very high political places and that it would only take one phone call for those same friends to be all over Newton's ass. He cleared his throat and pursed his lips. _Clever girl…_

"If I agree to this," he offered with disdain and a dismissive wave of his hand, whole ignoring the invisible noose that Isabella had begun to tie around his neck. "What makes you think that Cullen will even go for it? He is known to be a stubborn pain in the ass as you well know."

Isabella smiled slightly at that. "I'm sure if you let me talk to him about it and let him see that I am only trying to help then he may see past his pride and accept it. If not," she shrugged. "I won't mention it again. You have my word."

"And this is done on your own time. No payment," Newton reinforced with an index finger pointed at Isabella.

"Absolutely," she agreed, wanting nothing more than to rip said finger from its socket. "And I'll give you a schedule so that you can arrange the guard. Preferably not the one who assaulted my student?" She added on quickly.

Newton heard her final warning and glowered, "Fine."

"Great," Isabella smiled with a clap of her palms onto her thighs. "I'm meeting with Garrett at two. Can I have access to Cullen? I'd like this cleared up before I leave for the weekend, before his parole officer comes on Monday."

_Anything else…?_

Newton huffed and folded his arms in front of his chest. "Have them radio me down and I'll see he gets to you."

Isabella nodded and walked towards his office door.

"Thanks, Mr. Newton," she said with a sugary sweet smile that made Newton's teeth ache before she left, closing the door hard behind her.

Swan – 1 Newton – 0

=PoF=

Later that afternoon, Garrett Volture listened with rapt attention to the pretty brunette sitting across from him as she relayed her proposal to him in detail. He was exceedingly intrigued when he had gotten a call at his office requesting a meet with Miss Isabella Swan. His first instinct of course was that she wanted to log a complaint against Edward and his behaviour - and he wouldn't have blamed her - so it was a slight understatement to say that he was shocked as hell when she told him that she wanted to tutor him in order to help his parole application. Even though Garrett wasn't wholly convince that it would make much of a difference - knowing the self righteous prigs who ran the parole board - the passion and determination in the small woman before him made him agree with her plan entirely.

Whether Edward would go for it was another matter altogether. His temper was always getting him into shit that Garrett had to get him out of and the incident with the table was no exception. Being banned from lessons was a huge blow to the parole application so he was all for hugging Miss Swan to death when she had offered to help.

"I have to say I'm amazed Mike Newton went for this," Garrett smiled as he sipped from his coffee cup, grimacing at the shitty taste of the machine filtered mixture.

Isabella laughed lightly. "Well, let's just say I know how the game is played."

Garrett's eyes and grin widened, liking Miss Swan more and more. It was about time Newton was put in his place. "Is that so?" he asked rhetorically with a nod.

Isabella nodded in answer behind her own cup and said no more about it. She should have felt guilty for playing the guard card but in truth, Isabella was proud of herself. Newton was showing himself to be a complete slime ball and Isabella wasn't above reminding him of her contacts just to keep him in place.

Her father had always taught her to be modest about their stature and connections but she knew without doubt that he would have supported her game plan 100%. She was doing what she had promised him; she was helping.

The door to the bland, airless room they were seated in opened quickly and a resigned looking Cullen appeared, followed by two guards and a severely pissed looking Newton.

"Hi, Edward," Garrett offered as he stood, surprising Isabella with the use of his first name. She remembered him being exceedingly sensitive about it when Newton had used it.

"Hey," he muttered with a breath before his eyes swept slowly over to Isabella. She felt the heat in her cheeks almost immediately as she shifted under his intense gaze. "Miss Swan," he offered with a cocked eyebrow, his demeanour changing lightning fast.

_Fuck, he's such a cocky ass…_

She inhaled through her nose to gain back her equilibrium and cocked an eyebrow back, "Cullen, would you please take a seat?"

He observed her defensive stance and smirked feeling his body react in the only way it seemed to around her. She looked good, he had to admit, but then she always did. Why the fuck she insisted on wearing those ass hugging skirts however he had no fucking clue. He was sure she was sent from his own personal hell to torment him. This woman drove him fucking crazy but made his cock harder than he'd ever known. Some fucker somewhere definitely had a sick sense of humour.

He slammed down in his seat and smiled at Garrett while wiggling his fingers in a give-me-what-I-want gesture that Isabella could only smile at. Garrett pulled out a box of cigarettes and threw them on the table. Cullen pulled one out quickly, smelling the nicotine immediately. He placed it to his lips, lit it and sucked in the smoke with a slow hiss while closing his eyes in complete ecstasy.

Isabella meanwhile was contemplating all the ways she could make sure he did that exact same thing every time they had a session. It was without doubt the sexiest fucking thing she had ever seen in her life. She swallowed hard as she watched him open his eyes slowly and blow the smoke back out between his lips, then down his nose. How the hell did he make smoking look so damn erotic? _Sweet Jesus…_

She realised suddenly that the room had gone quiet and that everyone, including Cullen, was staring at her and waiting for her to take her seat. She apologised with an embarrassed dip of her chin and sat down next to Garrett, running her hands against her thighs. Cullen watched her curiously. It was the first time he'd ever seen her not on point and he was convinced that her cheeks were a lot pinker than they usually were. _Was she just checking me out…?_

"You've got ten minutes," Newton barked in aggravation as he headed towards the door with wide strides and louder feet.

"We might not be done in ten minutes," Isabella retorted sharply. She was so tired of his ordering people about. "We'll radio you when we're done." She kept her eyes on her hands on the table in front of her.

Newton stopped dead in his tracks and put one hand on his hip while rubbing his forehead with the other. This woman was really pushing her fucking luck he thought but instead replied, "Fine," before striding out of the room grumbling profanities under his breath.

Garrett and Cullen exchanged impressed and smug looks respectively before turning back to the petite brunette before them. Cullen was happy as shit that she stood up to Newton and his asshole tendencies, if not a little jealous that he was getting a tongue lashing and he wasn't. His brow furrowed at the utterly senselessness of that thought.

"So, is someone gonna put me out of my misery and tell me why the fuck I'm here?" he asked as he looked between Miss Swan and Garrett.

Garrett eyed him and his language disapprovingly before gesturing to Miss Swan to talk. Isabella found that she was suddenly a little tongue tied and had to clear her throat a couple of times to undo it. Cullen waited patiently as she did, somewhat enthralled by her apparent unease.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that your attending my lessons hasn't really worked out that well," she offered, keeping her eyes firmly on Cullen's and not on the small piece of ink that she had noticed peeking from under the arm of his t-shirt.

He scoffed and looked to Garrett. "Yeah, no shit, lady."

"Edward," Garrett warned with a curl of his lip. Cullen rolled his eyes and gestured for Miss Swan to continue with a lift of his left elbow that was lying across his chest as he finished his cigarette.

"I understand, Cullen that you have a parole committee meeting at the beginning of September?"

He nodded and then shrugged, "Yeah, so?"

Isabella bit her tongue at his sharp tone, keeping her stare firm and unwavering; a fact that made Cullen's fingers twitch. "And I also know that your participation in my lessons was to help with your application towards said parole committee meeting."

Cullen huffed out the last of the smoke in his lungs and extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray with three very deliberate and sharp drops of his hand. He continued to stare at the woman in front of him as he slumped back into his seat while grappling for another smoke. "In fucking English," he said finally, hiding his smirk as he saw the fire burst inside Miss Swan's mahogany eyes. _There she is…_

"Edward…" Garrett began before Isabella put a hand on his arm to stop him.

She leaned forward, giving Cullen a fucking awesome view of those very real tits and gritted her teeth. _Keep calm…_

"In fucking English," she snarled, inwardly rolling her eyes at herself and her apparent Cullen induced Tourettes. "I am offering to tutor you on a one to one basis so that you can apply to the committee for early parole even though you _insist_ on acting like a complete asshole, _even_ when people are trying to help you."

_Well, fuck me…_

Garrett stared in amazement at the little spitfire sitting to his right as Cullen let his eyes roam down the curves of her face and chest in fascination as a red heat flashed across her skin. _Fuck she is sexy…and irritating as all hell…_

He found himself licking his lips as the silence continued and Isabella found that she suddenly wanted to do it for him; to lick his lips, his mouth, his fuck awesome jaw…_What. The. Hell?_

She stood quickly from her seat, scraping it hard against the sterile linoleum of the floor before it fell back with a loud clatter. She looked at it momentarily, not moving to pick it back up and instead grabbed at her bag quickly, dropping it twice before she got a hold on it. Garrett stood with her as she struggled with it in her flustered state.

"Miss Swan?" he asked in concern, entirely flummoxed by her behaviour. The strong assertive young woman that had come in the room was now completely absent and the change was as unnerving as it was unexpected.

"This was a stupid idea," Isabella offered finally, keeping her eyes on the bag she was trying to fasten and not the two men in front of her. "It's obvious that I was under a misapprehension…I thought that…I thought that we…I…"

She allowed her eyes to meet Cullen's and felt her breath catch at the look of absolute raw sex that oozed from them as he whispered something under his breath. Her pussy purred and clenched, making her back straighten and her knees shake. She had to get out of there and away from Cullen and his ink, face and PunkAss stare. _Fuck, I can feel his eyes on me…what was I thinking?_

"I'm sorry," she muttered quietly before flinging her bag over her shoulder and starting for the door.

"Miss Swan."

She froze at the sound of Cullen's voice and the fact that it no longer held any hint of malice, aggression or sarcasm. It was soft almost…pleading…?

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes with a furrowed brow and tried to collect herself. She turned when she felt confident that her mask was appropriately fitted once again to see him standing from his seat, his finger tips dancing elegantly along the edge of the table in front of him.

"Yes?" she asked in a voice a million times weaker than what she had needed.

Cullen looked back at her, his face hard but thoughtful. His eyes seemed to hold something that was entirely too much for her to even think about at that moment. It was something powerful, questioning and desperate in its intensity and Isabella found herself completely at its mercy.

_I can't breathe…_

Cullen's firm right hand through his hair broke the moment, making even Garrett exhale in relief.

"I…um…fuck, look I… I appreciate that," Cullen stammered uncomfortably, his eyes flitting around the room at everything except Miss Swan. _Yeah, I'm a pussy…_

Isabella was sure that the sound of her mouth popping open echoed around the room. Her eyes flickered to Garrett who looked equally speechless and about ready to faint from shock. "Um…yeah, sure…" she began, waving her hand in frustration at her own verbal ineptitude. "It was a stupid…"

"No," he interrupted her sharply. Her glare returned as his tone smacked her around the face, clearing her brain haze for one split second. Cullen couldn't help but smirk. "It wasn't stupid," he countered before she could snap back. "It was a good idea."

Isabella nodded slowly, watching his face carefully for any sign that he was yanking her chain but was struck dumb when she saw nothing of the sort.

"I think…" Cullen began, glancing quickly at Garrett for assistance. He was fucking shit at asking for…_help_…shit, even thinking the word made him want to spit fucking nails.

Garrett sensed his discomfort immediately and at once felt protective of him. "Edward," he coaxed. "Are you saying that you…_want_ Miss Swan to tutor you?"

He asked it slowly almost as he would talk to his six year old daughter, but it didn't irritate Cullen like it normally would because this was an entirely abnormal fucking situation.

Cullen nodded minutely and dropped his eyes to the table, reaching for the cigarettes and pulling one out as if his life depended on it. He sparked it and sucked on it for all it was worth, wanting the moment just to fuck off already. _Why is everyone so fucking quiet…?_

"Well, ok," Garrett whispered, before turning towards Miss Swan who was still looking a little frayed around the edges. "Miss Swan?"

Isabella's eyes snapped to Garrett at the sound of her name and cleared her throat. Now here was a fucking dilemma. It was so much easier for her to accept that Cullen would be an arrogant, conceited prick so that she didn't have to tutor him but _this_…this was a whole new ball game. Cullen's quiet, almost self-conscious stance made her chest squeeze. She likened it to seeing a wild animal after it had been in captivity for a time; magnificent but heart breaking in its unnaturalness.

"So," she said softly, taking a timid step back towards the table. "We're going to do this?" She needed the clarification just for her own sanity.

"I said so didn't I?" Cullen growled through a fog of smoke that curled effortlessly into the air around him.

Well actually…but Isabella held her tongue. She found herself smiling slightly and rubbed a somewhat weary hand across her forehead.

"Ok then," she said finally, feeling ten parts ecstatic and ninety parts terrified. "Um…so…let's talk about a schedule." She nodded towards Garret who bent down quickly to retrieve her chair and sat down, pulling out her diary, so that they could do just that.

=PoF=

Twenty minutes later and with her diary filled with the times that worked for her and Cullen to meet – every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday – Isabella stood once again from the table, making sure that her chair stayed upright. She held her hand out to Garrett and he took it, shaking it enthusiastically.

"Thank you, Isabella," he said softly with a face filled with gratitude. "We'll talk more I'm sure."

"Absolutely," she replied with a smile. She glanced at Cullen who was suddenly looking at her with an expression of disbelief. His green eyes were as wide as she had ever seen them and his mouth was agape, showing the pink tip of his tongue.

She pretended to ignore it, assuming that he was pissed about something - _for a change_ - and simply nodded towards him. "See you Monday," she murmured before turning and heading out the door.

Garrett spun on his heel back to Edward with a huge ass smile on his face. "Edward, this is great!" he enthused while clapping his hands together. "This is really great, right?"

Cullen remained mute, his eyes still fixed on the door that…_she_…had gone through.

"Edward?" Garrett repeated, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Edward, are you…?"

"What did you call her?" Cullen croaked through an arid throat. His heart was beating so hard that his ear drums felt ready to burst.

"What?" Garrett asked in confusion.

"What did you just call Miss Swan?"

Garrett shrugged and frowned. "I called her Isabella. Why? That is her name, right?" He glanced worriedly at the guard, suddenly panicking that he had just called her by a wrong name. The guard, thankfully, nodded an affirmative, easing his alarm instantly.

He looked back at Edward who was now as white as a sheet and breathing so hard it was audible around the room.

"Edward, are you alright?" He asked, the concern prevalent in the councillor's voice.

But Cullen was very fucking far from alright. He pushed his chair back without saying a word and dropped his head like a lead weight towards his knees.

It couldn't be. There was no fucking way. _She_ couldn't be _her_. No. What were the odds? The chance was minute. He hated this woman…didn't he? No. He didn't. She was helping him…Like he helped her. _No._ He grabbed at his hair in disbelief. _It couldn't fucking possibly be_…_her_…

Unbeknown to Cullen his whole tirade had been entirely spoken, making Garrett drop to his knees in front of him pleading with him to stop the verbal vomit that was erupting from his mouth.

"Who, Edward?" he urged, recognising the signs of a panic attack through the laboured breaths and white sheen that was covering Edward's face. "Edward, talk to me. Who are you talking about?"

Unthinkingly he grasped Edward's shoulder to try and calm him down, but Cullen was too far gone to care.

"It can't be," Cullen answered towards the floor, his voice laced with shock.

"Who? Miss Swan?" Garrett asked in puzzlement.

"No," Cullen replied. "She's not Miss Swan…she's…_fuck_…she's…"

"Who?" Garrett asked in exasperation, tightening his grip on Edward's shoulder.

Cullen finally looked up at his councillor, his expression enough to make Garrett gasp. Long gone was the strong, arrogant, virile man of Edward Anthony Cullen and in his place was a scared shitless eleven year old that was desperate for someone to love him.

Cullen swallowed hard, took a deep breath to steady himself and spoke the words he never thought he'd ever say since a horrific dark night fifteen year before.

"She's my _Peaches_."

**Holy blast from the goddamn past, Batman!**

**I think I need a lie down after that!**

**Leave me love. I adore hearing what you think!**

**Same time next week**

**TTFN xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Bonjour my wee Jailward and PunkAssward lovelies!**

**First let me bow down to you all for getting me to 1,000 reviews with only 6 chapters. I am humbed. God bless ya.**

**Love to my girls on the thread and their insane ideas on how to get alone time for our two love birds – Kung fu stealth outfits were mentioned and I couldn't help but make a reference to that in this chapter…spot it if you can, ladies!**

**A Pound of Flesh has also been nominated for Best New Story at the Shimmer Awards and I would love your vote. Voting starts June 27****th****. ****http:/shimmerawards(dot)webs(dot)com/**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 6: Revelation**

'_She's my Peaches.'_

Garret stared at the dishevelled and breathless young man in front of him having no clue as to what or who he was talking about. His eyes tried to search the wide, erratic green ones that he was looking into for some sort of answer, as he sat on his haunches in front of Edward, but all he saw was disbelief, laced with something else that he had never seen on Edward Cullen before. Fear.

What he had to be fearful of, he had no idea but he knew that he was beyond unnerved by the utterly uncharacteristic reactions coming off of him in waves. His hand was still clamped onto Edward's shoulder, half for his comfort and half for his own before turning to the guard who was standing and watching the entire moment with intrigue. Officer Medway hadn't heard what Cullen had said but seeing the usually foul-mouthed punk in such a state was altogether…odd.

"Can you go and call for a facility medic, please?" Garrett murmured to him quickly, urging the guard to hurry with an abrupt nod of his head towards the door.

"I'm not supposed to leave…" Medway began but was halted immediately by Garrett bellowing 'NOW!' which was accompanied by a look of incredulity and fury.

Officer Medway had worked with Garrett Volture for a lot of years and had never seen him or heard him address a fellow colleague in such a way. Needless to say he moved towards the door while simultaneously grabbing his radio, with much more haste than he had originally intended.

Garrett turned back towards Edward, knowing that they had little time alone before the medic arrived. He rubbed his hand down his shoulder until he was clutching his bicep and squeezed it as reassuringly as he could, trying to hide his concern behind a tight smile.

"Edward. Edward, can you hear me?" he said as calmly as he could while Edward gasped for air.

His fucking lungs just felt too fucking small and dammit if his heart wasn't slamming against his ribs hard enough to break them. He tried to answer Garrett to tell him that he didn't want a fucking medic – he just wanted to get out of the room before the walls closed in on him completely. He dropped his head when the words wouldn't come and clutched the lapel of Garrett's jacket, scrunching the wool in his palm, willing his whole body to calm but infuriatingly, the more he tried to slow his breathing the more his lungs closed up.

He grunted in panic when his throat shrank as he swallowed and dropped his forehead against his councillor's shoulder.

_Get me out of here, Garrett…for fuck's sake…get me out…_

=PoF=

"_Harder_…oh _God_, fuck me harder!"

"Not God, baby, just me," Jake Black grinned, as he gripped the slim calves that were resting against his shoulders and began pounding into the wet pussy he was buried in. _Fuck, he needed this…_

"Oh yes, Jake, oh fuck, give me that cock!"

Jake watched Siobhan's hair splay like a giant black puddle across his pillow while her back arched as she began clenching around him, milking him in such a way that with three more, deep, hard thrusts, he exploded into her with a loud grunt. He collapsed onto her, panting and gasping into her neck, smiling into the sweat that had collected by her collar bone.

"Holy shit, Black," Siobhan gasped as her legs flopped back down to the bed. She placed a hand between her breasts and felt her heart as it raced under her hot skin. It had been a while since she had found herself in Jake Black's bed and as she felt her body return to earth she couldn't really understand why. He may have been a complete asshole but damn he was an amazing fuck.

"Right back at ya, Sweetness," Jake replied as he lifted from her and removed himself from her body with a hiss.

He pulled the condom off his cock and threw it in the trash before tossing a towel towards the woman still panting and splayed across his bed. Siobhan was fucking nice to look at and she gave head like a fucking vacuum but that's where their relationship ended. She was a sure thing and the arrangement worked for the pair of them but she wasn't who he wanted…he frowned into the toilet basin while he pissed as his train of thought started entering dangerous territory…

He shook his head to shake the feelings off, flushed the john and washed his hands before walking his naked ass back into his room. He smiled when he saw that Siobhan was already half dressed, fastening her bra before pulling on her blouse. She knew the score and it pleased him that there were no emotional hurdles between them. He didn't need that shit. He picked up his jeans and slipped them on, going commando - as underwear just pissed him off.

He pulled out his packet of cigarettes and lit one. It may have been cliché but he loved a smoke after a good lay.

Siobhan smiled at him sweetly and fluffed up her hair as she meandered past him towards her purse that was sitting on his side table. She pulled out her cell, scrolling through the messages that she had received while she was being boned to within an inch of her life.

"I gotta go," Siobhan said casually as she threw it back into the depths of her bag. She turned back to Jake who was leaning nonchalantly against the wall behind her and let her index finger sneak down the centre of his chest. "Thanks again, Handsome," she purred before kissing the side of his mouth softly. "I'm sure I'll see you soon."

"I'm sure you will," he replied with a smile and a gust of smoke down his nose. She grinned up at him and with one last flick of her hair she left.

Jake smirked to himself, put out his cigarette and went back to the bathroom to wash off the scent of sex and pussy that covered nearly every inch of his skin.

An hour later and he was sitting in the office of his auto body shop rifling through the receipts of the day's takings. _Black's_ had been his father's shop that he had built from scratch while raising Jake single-handedly after Jake's mother had been killed in a car wreck. It had been far from easy for Jacob Black Senior, being a single parent while trying to run a popular business in the centre of Brooklyn but he had done it with a determination alongside a shrewd business sense that his son had inherited entirely.

Jake had willingly picked up the mantle of running the shop from his father who, after a valiant fight, had succumbed to the cancer that had ravaged his body for two years. That was three years ago and as much as Jake shrugged off questions about how he was dealing, deep down he still missed his father like hell.

"How are the books looking, Boss?"

Jake looked up from the papers in front of him to see Seth poking his head around the office door with a wide grin.

"Yeah, they're ok," Jake answered noncommittally, glancing quickly at his employee and then back at the figures on his desk.

The truth was however that even with the shop doing as well as it was and with all the new business that was coming in he was barely making it even. He slumped back in his seat, noticing that Seth had left and ran an agitated hand through his hair. Swinging his chair from side to side he let his eyes slide over to the window that looked out into the shop. He watched as his three employees moved around a red hot Corvette and a kick ass Mustang and sighed hard.

There was no way that he could lay off anyone else. He had already hired and fired three mechanics in the last six months to try and save money, finding loopholes so that he could have them work without paying them. It was a fucking asshole thing to do, he knew and he also knew that his father would have been totally disappointed in him and would have quite happily kicked his ass from one side of Brooklyn borough to the other. _That thought made his lip twitch…_

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands in frustration. One thing that he was sure of was that he couldn't let his father's shop be taken by Aro and his fuckers, no matter what he owed him. He had promised his father that he would look after his life's business to pass on to his own son - _if he ever had one_ - and his son and so on. It was a Black business and it would always stay that way. He would be damned if he would break his promise to his own blood through his over zealous gambling and drug habit (even if he had curtailed the latter a fuck load).

He was still dealing. There was no way that he could or wanted to stop that sweet business enterprise. He'd been dealing since he was fourteen - starting out with Cullen when they began running errands for Aro - and he had continued, building his own drug empire that left other small time dealers banging on his door in desperation for hits and loans. It had brought him the bills and the women and he was unashamed about the fact that he revelled in the power being the second biggest dealer in the area brought him.

But, he thought wryly, the power was not what he needed right now.

He slammed his hands down onto the desk in frustration, grabbing the receipts and stormed from the office into the shop.

"Paul!" he called over the loud rock music that was pounding from the speakers that were spread around the building. "Seth, turn that shit the fuck down, man, I can barely hear myself fucking think!"

The music dropped in volume almost immediately as Paul, Jake's longest serving employee, jogged over to him, wiping oil from his hands with a dirty rag.

"What's up boss?" he asked, flinging the rag at Seth's head.

"Take these," Jake said simply, handing Paul the wad of receipts along with an unmarked brown envelope he pulled from his jeans pocket and the keys to his BMW.

Paul looked at his boss knowingly, "Same address?" he asked quietly.

Jake exhaled and nodded without saying a word, keeping his eyes on Paul's as he did. Paul raised his eyebrows in understanding, grabbed his jacket quickly and walked out of the shop.

=PoF=

The following Saturday found Isabella sitting alone in the middle of a palatial garden of one of the biggest houses in the Hamptons. She sighed despondently and sipped on her champagne slowly; wanting nothing more than to finish it one chug and then do the same with the entire bottle. She glanced to her right to see all of New York's high society gossiping and acting perfectly around her and smirked to her self about what kind of reaction that type of behaviour would conjure. _Maybe champagne wouldn't cut it. Maybe __jello__ shots would be better…?_

She hated these types of gatherings. Hated them. They made her skin crawl and her teeth grind. The pretension was like a bad case of hives that made her skin itch but, she was there for her friends and family and that was what mattered most.

"Isabella!"

She turned gradually and smiled at Sue Damon who was approaching her quickly with outstretched arms. Isabella placed her champagne flute on the table and stood to meet her embrace.

"Oh, darling, it's so good to see you," Sue cooed as she cupped Isabella's face. "I swear my girl you get more and more beautiful every time I see you."

Isabella blushed and smiled as best she could at the compliment. "Congratulations, Sue," she replied quickly.

"Oh thank you," Sue offered with a huge roll of her blue eyes. "Thirty years of marriage definitely deserves congratulations. Putting up with my husband for thirty seconds, never mind thirty years is a feat of which I'm exceedingly proud of." She laughed then, a high tinkling sound that Isabella could only join in with.

"Have you seen my son anywhere?" she asked, glancing around Isabella as though she had Jamie tucked in either her dress or her purse.

"No, I haven't," she answered with a shake of her headand a slight snarl.

_The bastard said he'd stay with me__ and hide me from these wretched creatures and he hasn't even come to say hello yet…_

"Funny," Sue murmured with a glint in her eye that made Isabella's stomach twist with the knowledge of what was coming. "You two are always joined at the hip; always in each others pockets."

She winked then and Isabella smiled back as best she could. Sue and Renee were anything but discreet when it came to airing their opinions about where Isabella and Jamie's relationship should go – which was, as far as they were concerned, straight up the aisle followed by 2.4 children. Renee classed Jamie as a 'safe option' being 'from good money' and was forever probing Isabella for information about their relationship. Isabella always laughed it off with the sarcastic remark '_and who said romance was dead_', but it didn't take any of the awkwardness out of it when the subject was brought up – especially if Jamie was there too.

Sue's grip on Isabella's shoulder tightened and her eyes grew darker. "Your mother tells me that you had an incident at the…prison, the other day." Isabella almost laughed at the sombreness of her tone.

"Um…yeah," she replied while stifling a smirk. "It was something and nothing, just a hot tempered student."

_A hot tempered,__ irrational, asshole, muscular, sexy, inked student who drives me fucking insane…_

Sue clicked her tongue in disgust and shook her head. "You are so very brave, Isabella. You're taking your life in your hands everyday that you are there with those…those animals."

Isabella resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the narrow-mindedness of the woman in front of her. She loved Sue like an aunt but shit if she wasn't one prejudiced, snobby bitch at times.

"Yes, well, I'm tutoring the same student on a one to one basis now so…"

"Oh good gracious," Sue interrupted with a dramatic hand to her mouth. "Is that even safe?"

Biting her tongue Isabella replied, "Of course."

Sue cupped Isabella's face again and smiled a large motherly smile. "Just be careful, Isabella. You're mother wouldn't survive if she lost you too."

_And just what was missing from the day__…a side order of fucking guilt…_

"Ah, there's my boy!" Sue chimed as she spotted Jamie over Isabella's shoulder. Isabella sighed in relief that the subject of her job had been dropped for the moment. She'd already had about enough from her mother earlier that morning.

Sue pulled her son towards her and kissed him, leaving a huge red lipstick mark across the blonde stubble on his right cheek.

"Sorry," Jamie muttered, glancing quickly at Isabella while hugging his mother tightly.

"Where have you been, darling?" Sue asked, pulling at the lapels of his jacket and smoothing the fabric down his shoulders. He rolled his eyes and pulled an eek face at Isabella as his mother clucked over him. Isabella giggled into her champagne flute. _Mama's boy…_

"I got held up but I'm here now and you look beautiful. Congratulations." He smiled widely, disarming his mother instantly and making Isabella laugh louder in the process.

"Well thank you," Sue smiled back at him. "Get a drink and make sure you see your father." She patted his chest, kissed Isabella's cheek and wandered towards a crowd of women who were wearing enough flower print between them that they were almost camouflaged against the gardens.

"Held up, huh?" Isabella smirked as Jamie snatched her flute from her hand and downed what was left in it which he followed with a loud gasp. "And what's _her_ name?"

Jamie coughed slightly on the alcohol he had just swallowed and glanced sheepishly towards Isabella. He knew it was fucking ridiculous to feel guilty about having a woman in his bed. He and Isabella were only friends - as much as he wanted more - but he still found it hard to shake off.

"Um…it was…Victoria," he muttered towards his shoes while rubbing the back of his neck. _Shit._

Isabella raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Oh," she breathed with a slow nod. "And this was a…_good_ idea?"

Jamie shrugged and continued to avoid her gaze.

"Who the fuck knows," he answered with a sigh and a wry smile.

He finally met her eyes and leaned heavily against the table they were standing next to. "It was just…one of those things, Bells, a goodbye fuck or a…how ya been doing fuck…I don't know…"

Isabella held her hands up in surrender. "Hey no need to explain yourself or your fucks to me," she said with a shake of her head. But Jamie wasn't convinced. He cocked an eyebrow at her waiting for the inevitable onslaught.

_And in 3…2…1…_

"Just as long as the bitch knows that if she hurts you again I will have to get kung fu ninja on her ass Kill Bill style."

Jamie laughed lightly and nodded. "I'll let her know," he said unable to tear his gaze from the bright light that seemed to be flickering in the depths of her eyes. It had been a few days since he had seen her and he had to admit that she looked different. She seemed more…confident? More sassy? He couldn't put his finger on it but it was definitely a good look on her. She was positively glowing.

"What?" she asked as she fidgeted under his stare.

"What's new with you?" he asked as he reached for two more glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. His mother went all out when it came to celebrations and even though it didn't bother him that much, he knew that it drove Isabella up the wall.

"Um…not much," Isabella murmured into her glass.

"Not much isn't nothing, Bells," Jamie pressed with a smile. "What's going on?"

Isabella took a deep breath and bit the inside of her lip. She hated that she felt nervous about telling her family and friends about her job. It was annoying and completely unnecessary. She knew they reacted the way they did because they cared but hell; a little caring could go a long way, especially after her mother, Sue and Leah had all expressed their '_concern_.'

"I'm…um…I'm taking on a student at the facility on a one to one basis."

She said it quickly; keeping her eyes on Jamie's the entire time waiting to pounce at any sign of argument or annoyance on his face. She didn't need to hear anymore about how '_stupid_' or '_reckless_' she was being, least of all from Jamie.

Jamie knew this from the tightness of her mouth so purposefully hid his panic.

"Oh," he responded, hiding his grimace behind his glass as he took a large sip. "This was part of your contract?"

He knew it wasn't as he had read the fucking thing about thirty times when she had received it but he simply couldn't understand why she would put herself forward for this. It was bad enough that she was in a classroom with five of these assholes let alone just one. Didn't that situation just scream fucking dangerous to her? Was she completely without any sense of self preservation?

"No," Isabella snapped. "It wasn't. I offered to help Cullen off of my own back." _And I wish everyone would just back. The. Fuck. Off…_

Jamie narrowed his eyes at the name, knowing that he had heard it somewhere before. "Cullen?" he asked. "When have I heard that name…?"

_Fuck_. Isabella kept her eyes on the waiter nearest to them, hopelessly aware that Jamie was putting the pieces together while she continued to dodge his question. Jamie shuffled through his memory, knowing that he had heard her say the name Cullen on at least two previous occasions. _Then…bingo…_

"Jesus Christ, Isabella, was that the fucking idiot who threw a table at you?" Jamie roared, making everyone that was standing near them stop talking and look at them with gasps of shock.

Isabella felt her cheeks turn nuclear under their judgemental stares and shot daggers towards Jamie who responded in kind.

"Are you fucking insane?" he hissed, moving his head closer to hers as he pulled her by her arm towards the back of the garden out of the hearing range of all the nosey old coots who were watching them with whispers and expressions of alarm. Isabella pulled her arm away in anger.

"No, I'm not," she spat. "Don't talk to me like a fucking child, Jay!"

Jamie stepped back from her in surprise. It was very unlike Isabella to curse; especially at him. He watched as she rubbed her forearm where he had grabbed her and winced as he thought about how tightly he had held her. He hadn't meant to but Christ he was just so fucking worried about her. Didn't she see that?

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he muttered remorsefully, moving his hand towards her but dropped it like he had been burned when she pulled away from him. He exhaled, trying to ignore the sting of hurt in his chest and rubbed his face as the silence continued and the look of thunder grew across Isabella's face. She was livid.

"Isabella, talk to me…" he pleaded from under his lashes. "Look, I'm sorr-…"

"Sorry?" Isabella growled through her teeth. She laughed without humour. "How dare you speak to me like that, Jamie? Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm your best friend and I love you," he countered sharply with his hands on his hips. _Let's cut the bullshit._ "I worry about you and I can't believe that you would…"

"What? Make decisions for myself? Heaven forbid, right?" She mirrored his pose, fire licking every inch of her as she became more enraged. She was so fucking tired of having to explain herself to the people who should just shut the fuck up and be there to support her. Was it really too much to ask?

Jamie dropped his head and placed an index finger to his temple. "I know that you have the need to do this, Bells. I get it; really I do. But you've gotta take care of yourself."

"I am!" she retorted in exasperation, her hands slapping her thighs in temper. "It's everyone else that is driving me fucking crazy; you, Leah, Mom, _your_ mom!"

_The only person who would understand would be my father…_

Jamie lifted his hands to try and calm her but it just seemed to have the opposite effect, making her eyes flash and her nostrils flare. She shoved an index finger hard into his chest.

"And as my best friend who loves me then _you_ should respect my decisions and know that I am more than capable of taking care of myself!"

"Ok," he soothed, utterly blown away by the rage inside the woman before him. It had been a long ass time since he had seen her so wired. "Ok, Bells, I'm sorry. Shit, calm down."

Isabella scoffed and flicked her hair over her shoulder as she turned from him. Jamie was reaching for her as she span back to face him, her eyes blazing.

"And for your information," she seethed. "He didn't throw a table _at me_. He threw it at _the wall_."

Before he could respond in any way she had stormed away from him across the gardens towards the house, leaving him utterly speechless.

=PoF=

_Daddy! Daddy!_

"Edward?"

_Keep moving! We have to get away from them. They'll kill your ass! Move! _

"Edward. Can you open your eyes for me?"

_I can't…My Dad…_

Dark. Cold. Gunshots. Warmth. _Peaches…_

"Ed-…"

The doctor's words stuck in his throat as Cullen lunged up from the clinic bed into a sitting position, wide eyed and panting. He looked around himself, almost frantic and jumped slightly when a hand touched his arm. He turned to see Garrett standing next to the bed with a sympathetic smile etched across his face. It was one Cullen had never seen before and it instantly made him uneasy. He swallowed hard, trying like hell to coat his throat that felt like fucking sand paper.

"Where the fuck am I?" he croaked to Garrett as he tried to catch his breath. He looked around the room at the white wash walls and the surprised faces against them. A doctor and two guards…

"You're in the facility clinic, Edward," the doctor answered even though his question hadn't been directed at him.

"It's Cullen and who the fuck was talking to you, Doc?" he snapped, making the doctor flinch before taking a step backwards.

"Edward," Garrett said softly, waiting for Edward to face him before continuing. "You had a panic attack."

Cullen looked at his councillor as if he had just asked him to donate his body to medical science.

"Says who?" he coughed with a laugh and a raised eyebrow.

"Says me," the doctor interjected timidly with his right hand raised slightly like he was in fucking school.

"Whatever," Cullen responded, before swinging his legs to the right so that they were hanging off the bed. "Where are my shoes? I need to get out of here."

"I'm afraid that's not possible…" the doctor began.

"I wasn't fucking asking!" Cullen yelled, feeling his head pound instantly from way down deep inside his brain.

It felt like his ear drums were pulled tight enough to split and there were definitely little black dots that were hovering and dancing in his periphery. He scrunched his eyes tight for one split second to gain his bearings and felt him self lean slightly forward. Garrett saw this and placed his hands gently on his shoulders to push him back.

"You need to calm down, Edward," he murmured, "Just relax. You've been out for a day. You need to take it easy."

Cullen grasped the bridge of his nose to try and ease the throbbing in the front of his skull and took a deep breath. He'd never felt anything like it. It was like a goddamn circus had taken up residence in between his ears and was having allsorts of fucking fun and _dammit all to hell_ if he didn't feel completely drained. He couldn't even resist as Garrett pushed him back slowly until Cullen was sitting comfortably against the pillows on the bed. He exhaled and frowned at the fuckers standing and staring him.

"Does your head hurt?" the doctor asked quietly.

Cullen dropped his hand and glared hard at the man with a stethoscope around his neck but found that he was too fucking exhausted to come up with any witty shit. He simply nodded and became fascinated with the piece of fabric that was hanging from the bottom of his white t-shirt.

"I'll go and get some more pain killers," Doc muttered and scurried out of the room like a cockroach in a spotlight.

Cullen was surprised to see that the two guards also left the room, glancing nervously at Garrett as they did.

"Well, fuck, at least I can still clear a room," Cullen muttered towards his chest.

Garrett smiled slightly and pushed his hands into his pockets. "We need to talk, Edward," he said softy.

"About what?" Cullen answered, far too quickly for his councillor's liking. Garrett dropped his chin and eyed Cullen with a cocked eyebrow. _Please…_

"You know what," he replied with a slow nod making Cullen huff and drop his head back against the bed.

He was entirely too fucking confused, tired and truthfully still in a state of complete shock to talk about…well, fucking anything, least of all the huge motherfucking revelation that had hit him around the head like a damn wrecking ball.

_Peaches_…it was _her_…the girl he had dreamed about for fifteen years…_the girl he had saved_…

"Edward?" Garrett pushed gingerly as he watched a look of pain cross his face. "It's confidential if that's what you're worrying about…?"

"I'm not worried about fucking anything, Garrett! I just have nothing to say. Goddamn it." Cullen slapped his hands down at his sides and fisted the bed sheets wanting to tear them into small strips so that they matched the feeling that was vibrating through his chest.

The sound of a chair being pulled across the floor towards his bed reminded Cullen that Garrett was a stubborn and tenacious son of a bitch who wasn't about to let him off lightly without _some kind_ of explanation.

Garrett took a deep breath and leaned his elbows on the side of the bed. "Edward, we've known each other a lot of years. We've talked, we've argued, we've sat in silence but I swear to God boy you've never scared me as much as you did yesterday."

Cullen's eyes flew to Garrett's tired ones to see only truth behind his words. His words made Cullen feel strange. He didn't give a shit about other people's thoughts or feelings usually but knowing that Garrett had been worried made Cullen feel…_guilty?_

"Yeah, well," he murmured with a shrug, looking at the ceiling while clenching his teeth. "I'm fine." _Leave it, Garrett, please…I can't…_

"Edward…who's Peaches?"

Garrett saw the tremor that travelled across Cullen's chest, making his breathing stutter and the paleness returned like a wave to his handsome face. Garrett knew he had to be careful. Cullen's temper was highly flammable of that there was no doubt but what concerned him more was that he would have another panic attack. He wasn't sure he could cope with seeing that again.

Holding Edward Cullen as he shook, cried and passed out in his arms was something that would stay with him for along time. '_Help me'_ he had pleaded and gasped and Garrett had felt nothing but helplessness. He hadn't slept and he was determined to find out what had caused such a reaction in the man that he had counselled for the better part of a decade.

"No-one important," Cullen said in a whisper.

"So Peaches _is_ a person?" he confirmed.

_Fuck._

"Garrett, please," he groaned. "Just fucking leave it?" he said calmly.

He said it as a question, soft and quiet, hoping beyond hope that the desperation that laced his voice was enough to put a stop to Garrett's persistence.

Surprise crossed Garrett's eyes at his tone and the evenness of his words and Cullen knew at once that he had dodged the bullet for the time being. He just didn't have the energy or the inclination to try and explain something or someone that he had thought about every day since he was eleven years old.

He had to get his own head out of his ass before he could do that.

He had to get his own head out of his ass before Monday when he had his English Literature session.

A one to one session with her.

With Miss Swan.

With _Peaches_…

=PoF=

_His hands __moved slowly, exquisitely down my body._

_Oh God…so soft…_

_They set my entire body on fire as they moved across my ribs; over my stomach to the tops of my thighs where they spread me wide open for him. _

_I__ gasped as he growled against the inside of my leg._

_Jesus…so, so close to where I need you…_

_He licked my skin; his tongue rough and moist._

_Closer still…please, for the love of God touch me there…_

_Yes! He moved his head towards my wet flesh._

_I'm so wet for you. Can you feel it? Can you smell it? It's all for you…_

"_You want me?" he whispered as his finger trailed white heat above my clit._

"_No," I gasped. "I need you."_

"Miss S?"

_His hands were so soft…_

"Miss S?"

_His tongue…_

"Hey!"

Isabella's head shot up from the papers on her desk to see Emmett and the rest of her class looking at her in puzzlement at the fact that their normally conscientious, focused tutor was apparently without clarity of speech or hearing.

"Um…what…?" she stuttered as she ran a hand through her hair, trying to calm herself from the visions of the dream she had had the past two nights.

"Do you want this work to be finished for tomorrow?" Emmett said with a knowing smirk. "Or did you just wanna just keep fantasising about _my_ fine ass?"

Angela nudged the giant beside her but couldn't hold back her small smile. Isabella saw this and heard the chuckles from around the room, feeling her cheeks heat instantly.

"I mean, Miss S, that's fine with me," Emmett continued with a wiggle of his large eyebrows. "You can fantasise all you want, Honey. I know I'm fuck hot." The laughter continued as Emmett pressed a finger to his ass and let out a hiss, leaving Isabella still mute and a little mortified.

_Fuck_, she needed to get a grip…even if the dream _was_ a vast improvement on her normal terrifying ones.

"For tomorrow, Emmett," she said quickly, trying to sound nonchalant about being caught openly imagining a faceless man and his angel hands.

She had no idea who it was that conjured such lust from her as she slept – her eyes were always closed to him. The whole dream was an olfactory carnival. His smell was masculine, sour and musky and, mixed with hers produced a sweet, fruity scent that wrecked her.

And that was before he spoke. His voice…hot damn, his voice was like silk draped sex. He growled and licked and made her beg. Never had Isabella needed touch as much as she needed…_his. _And even after two nights, he was _still_ to touch her where she needed, leaving her frustrated and wound as tight as a spring the following mornings.

She purposefully spent the rest of the session moving from one student to another, keeping her mind off of her dream _and_ more importantly the fact that she was to have her first session with Cullen.

The last thing she needed was to have her head elsewhere when confronted by him. She needed all her wits about her to dish back the shit that he shovelled her way in copious amounts.

She hadn't given herself time to really consider their last meeting alongside Garrett on Friday. Her reaction to his smoking and the ways in which his eyes had travelled over her spelled nothing but trouble. She had decided it best for all involved to push it down deep and lock it away. So she had. She had to be professional at all times. Her job was to teach, not to ogle and forget her dues and with her class dismissed and her bag over her arm she repeated this mantra determinedly all the way to that very same room she had left him three days before, where she knew he would be waiting.

She smiled at the guard who opened the door for her and after seeing that he was sitting lazily in his seat behind a wooden table, walked with purpose towards him.

"Good afternoon," she said quickly as she pulled out his books and the papers that she needed for the hour.

She looked up at him after two minutes when he still hadn't responded, to see that his eyes were trained to the floor and his thumbs were whizzing around one another on his lap. She cleared her throat loudly and raised an eyebrow in annoyance.

Cullen lifted his head slowly, holding his breath and allowed him self to look at the woman standing, hip cocked, sassiness in full effect, in front of him. He smirked up at her and let the air out between his lips slowly.

"Good afternoon, Miss Swan," he answered in a long drawl that almost made him sound like he had been drinking.

Isabella frowned slightly at the look of calm that was covering his face and the lack of smart ass response. He was usually so tightly wound, so arrogant and sneering that the difference stunned her momentarily. Little did she know that it was taking all of Cullen's willpower to not high tail it like a pussy ass bitch out of the room so that he could obsess some more about what he now knew about Miss Isabella Swan - just like he had been doing for two days straight.

"Ok," Isabella continued, pushing her hair behind her ears before pulling a chair up on her side of the table. "So, we're going to do exactly what the class has been doing so that you don't fall behind."

Cullen watched her intensely, taking _all_ of her in.

He watched her movements and the expressions that rippled over her face, trying to see the young girl that he remembered like a photograph in his memory. Isabella shifted in her seat as she continued to explain what they would be doing in their sessions. She could feel his eyes on her and once again found herself pleased by it. His stare was like a hot finger pressed to cold skin, trailing patterns across her body, melting everything in its path.

"This," she said suddenly, slamming a piece of paper down in front of him, snapping her self and Cullen from their thoughts, "is the poem we will be looking at."

Her aggressive, no shit tone instantly made Cullen's dick hard and he groaned softly under his breath. _Sweet Jesus, woman, what are you doing to me?_

He tried to ignore the pulse between his legs and leaned forward slightly to read the title on the top of the page.

"Tichborne's Elegy?" he muttered with zero enthusiasm.

"Yes," Isabella said through tight lips. "What of it?"

"Do those motherfuckers in that class of yours even _know_ who Chidiock Ticborne is?"

Isabella kept her face straight even though she almost fell off of her chair at the fact that he knew the full name of the poet. She glanced down at the paper quickly. _No, it wasn't written there…_

"They do now," she answered as evenly as she could while she pulled the lid off of her pen. "And what do you know about him or his poetry?" she countered, feeling her patience slip. She couldn't allow her self to falter here.

Cullen smirked again as he saw the challenge in her eyes. He focused on that and not the sensation of the heat that was coming from her knee near his, under the table. He chose however not to move his leg away.

_Masochistic fuck…_

"I know enough," he replied, crossing his arms across his chest. _Try me, Peaches…_

Isabella snapped her eyes from the ink that once again peeked from under his t-shirt sleeve and sat back in her chair.

"Please," she offered with an open palm. "Regale me."

"_Regale_ you?" he scoffed. _Where the hell did this woman get her vocabulary…?_

Isabella nodded slowly as a barrage of fairly gratuitous images clouded Cullen's mind. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, willing them away as she watched him intently.

"Well, let me see," he pondered, looking towards the ceiling, giving Isabella a full view of his jaw. _Focus, Swan for God's sake…_She swallowed hard.

But Cullen had already seen her reaction and to say that he was happy about it would have been a huge motherfucking understatement. He lifted his right hand and rubbed his chin. Isabella listened to the sound of his stubble rubbing against his palm and fisted her own hands tightly in her lap.

"He was born in Southampton, England in 1558," he started, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. "In 1586 he took part in the Babington Plot to murder Queen Elizabeth and replace her with the Catholic Mary, Queen of Scots. But they were shit out of luck. He was arrested and was eventually hung, drawn and quartered."

He sat forward, stifling a laugh at the fact that Isabella's mouth was wide the fuck open in shock. He continued, feeling his ego grow, along with his dick that was painfully hard.

"This poem is the poem that he wrote while he was awaiting his execution." He took a slow, leisurely breath. "Kind of inappropriate to be studying this in a prison, don't you think, _Miss Swan_?"

But Isabella was lost. She was utterly dumbstruck by the knowledge that he had. Utterly dumbstruck and somewhat turned on. She knew he was intelligent - she had read it in his file - but _fuck_. This was something else. The man in front of her was intelligent and educated in an entirely seductive way and she was floored by him.

"You like your history?" she asked quietly, amazed that her voice worked at all.

Cullen shrugged. "It's ok." He kept his eyes on hers. "I prefer English Literature." He allowed his answer to settle between them, staring at his tutor, allowing him self a quick glance at her chest as he did. It didn't go unnoticed.

"So, tell me about the poem," she encouraged, wanting nothing more than to hear his voice explain it to her, even though she knew it inside out and back to front.

"He uses paradox and antithesis," he answered without missing a beat. He trailed his finger across the page in front of him, "Opposites and contradictions."

_Like you,_ Isabella thought.

"He does it to highlight the tragedy of what he's going through. Which, when you think about it, is fucking stupid, wouldn't you say?"

"Why would you say that?" Isabella asked, enthralled, intrigued, hypnotised and desperate to hear more. She sat forward, placing her forearms on the table between them, the guard standing behind her, forgotten.

Cullen laughed lightly and shook his head. "He made his mistakes so he has to pay the price." _His debt._

"You sound like you know something about that," Isabella murmured, unknowingly thinking the exact same thing.

Cullen raised his eyebrows sarcastically and glanced around the room with wide eyes. _Well fucking, duh!_

Isabella shook her head slightly, clearing the fog that had seemingly overtaken her entire brain. "I mean…I know…you're paying for your…mistakes. But he was so young, too young to die. Don't you sympathise with Tichborne in some way?"

"Sympathise?" Cullen asked to which Isabella nodded. "No," he answered firmly, "Envy? Yes."

His answer was nothing like what Isabella expected to hear from him. "Why do you envy him?" she asked softly.

Cullen leaned forward, matching Isabella's pose. He kept his eyes firmly on the table between them, knowing without doubt that his train of thought would leave him completely if he looked at her.

"The fact that he's about to die," he muttered. "He begins to see things much more clearly. He has focus, clarity." He raised his eyes slowly to Isabella's. "I envy him that."

"You want clarity?" Isabella asked in nothing more than a whisper; afraid to break whatever the moment was that suddenly surrounded her.

Cullen smiled in such a way that Isabella's heart raced. "Wanting and needing are two very different things, Miss Swan," he answered. "I _need_ clarity. I _need_ focus."

And then he stared at her because fuck if there wasn't anything else he could do or say at that moment. He knew that, finding out who she was, was the first step to him having any kind of focus in his life for fucking years. And even though he talked about Tichborne like he knew what the fuck he was talking about, it was only with his Peaches sitting in front of him, that he truly understood his own need for it.

"Peaches," he whispered as he took every inch of her face in. The dark hair that had engulfed him as he threw her to the ground as she had fought against him to get back to her father and the eyes that had cried the biggest tears he had ever seen.

"What?" she asked unable to hear him over the thundering of the blood in her ears. "What did you say, Cullen?"

And just like that the moment was gone.

She saw his eyes change, his posture shift and it was broken.

As if he had just woken from a dream, Cullen sat up straight and looked around him, glaring at the guard before slumping back in his seat with a huge exhale.

"But, you know," he muttered, grabbing the cigarette that Garrett had given him in an effort to keep him calm for Isabella, out of his pocket and lit it. His arrogant sneer and barrier right back up as he blew his smoke at her. "What the fuck do I know, right? _You're_ the fucking genius teacher."

A small voice in the back of his head screamed and shouted at him for being such a fucking asshole as he watched her face change from calm to furious in seconds. But it was ok, he told him self, he could cope with her anger. Anger was good. It was all the other bullshit that scared him to death.

Isabella could feel her blood boil. He was such a fucking prick. He was playing with her and she had fallen for it. She had actually, for one brief moment, thought that he meant the words that he was spouting and wasn't being the conceited fuck that was now sitting before her.

"Yeah," she snapped in response to his statement. "I am and as such I want you to do these activities." She slammed another piece of paper in front of him that was covered in questions and tasks. "I'm sure with _all_ your worldly knowledge you won't have a problem, right?"

She glared at him, almost daring him to say something back, to refuse. He didn't.

Instead he picked up the pen that she had dropped unceremoniously on the table between them and began doing what she had asked because, as she sat staring at him with her rage and beauty, Cullen knew that he would have done _anything_ she had asked of him.

Anything at all.

**Holy fuck I want my own PAW right now, Batman!**

**Sweet baby Jesus that was intense.**

**I'm off for some quiet time.**

**Leave me love and I'll see ya next week.**

**TTFN xxx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Once again your feedback has been incredible. I am humbled beyond belief.**

**Thank you.**

**The girls on the thread are fantabulous and I loves ya! And to everyone who follows me on twitter thank you for your support. My twitter name is sophiejax.**

**This chapter is very much a transitional chapter but is very necessary. If you only care about the PAW and Tutorella stuff go down near the bottom.**

**If not…enjoy and I'll see you on the other side…**

**Chapter 7: Connections**

_A criminal is a person with predatory instincts without sufficient capital to form a corporation_. ~ **Howard Scott**

Aro Bartollini was a shrewd and intimidating business man. For the better part of twenty years he had commanded the biggest drug empire in New York State and as such was one of the most feared and paradoxically respected individuals in the country.

He commanded reverence and thought little of disposing of anyone who crossed his path without it. He had murdered many - a fact which he neither gloated nor mulled over - knowing undoubtedly that to keep his business and his place within the country's most revered criminals, he would continue to do so.

He had much to protect: his family, his reputation and his empire respectively.

Aro's wife Jane was the quiet power behind him. She was not involved with neither did she comment on her husband's dealings, choosing instead to support him in other ways whenever she could, choosing to give him counsel _only_ when he sought it from her which, as he got older, was happening more and more.

She was happy to give him advice and quietly loved the fact that her powerful husband relied on her point of view and advice above anyone else's. She loved her husband deeply and knew that his asking for her wisdom was his way of requiting that love in the most passionate of ways.

She placed her hand on his cheek and smiled at him as they lay together, sweaty and spent from their morning fuck. They had been married for twenty-three years and their desire and need for each other had not waned one little bit. He could still make her body sing for him every time he touched her. From the first time they were intimate when she was sixteen to the present day, she knew without doubt that her body belonged to her husband so completely; she would surely die without his touch.

Aro placed his hand over his wife's and turned his face so that he could place soft kiss on her palm. She hummed at the feel of his lips against her skin and moved closer to him, lifting her leg so that her thigh rested against his stomach. He chuckled to himself and rubbed his hand down her calf.

"I have to get up, Janey." He smiled. "I cannot have you seducing me again."

He was only half serious because in truth he would have liked nothing more than to ravage the beautiful creature in his arms, but he had a business to run and with that came responsibilities.

Jane pouted and moved to kiss his lips. He kissed her back, feeling himself grow hard as she moaned quietly into his mouth.

"Dear God, woman," he grumbled as he pushed her back and leaned over her, pushing himself against her thigh. "You are dangerous in the extreme."

He smiled down at her before kissing her again; long languid kisses that made Jane's legs open up to take her husband inside of her again. He pushed into her with a long, low groan.

_Fuck the responsibilities..._

An hour later and Aro was sitting in his office, listening to his number one, Marcus, as he explained the details of a shipment of blow that would be arriving in the next twenty-four hours. All hands were called in and all ears were to the ground, watching and waiting for any sign of police knowledge. Aro had contacts on the inside who gave him invaluable information about what the law knew and didn't. He had also called in a lot of favours on the street to make sure that the shipment arrived without a hitch.

"Everything is going to plan, Sir." Marcus smiled at his boss, confident that the words he said were true.

Aro nodded slowly. "I want updates," he muttered as he steepled his hands under his chin.

"Of course, Sir," Marcus replied, "Up to the minute." His head whipped around and his hand automatically went to his gun as a loud knock at the door reverberated around the room.

Aro smiled at Marcus's reaction, "Come in."

The door opened slowly and Caius, _Marcus's _number one, walked in. "I'm sorry to interrupt but I have Paul Ashman here to see you."

Aro nodded and looked back at Marcus. "You're on top of this, Marcus. I'm proud of you. Don't let me down. Tell Ashman he can come in."

Marcus stood up and dipped his head. "Of course, thank you, Sir." He walked to the door and followed Caius out of it to find Paul Ashman standing looking like he was about ready to puke.

_Pussy..._

"He'll see you now," he said firmly, gesturing towards Aro's office with his right hand.

Paul swallowed and ran his sweating palms down his overalls. He hated this bit, even if he had been doing it for the better part of a year. He walked as confidently as he could towards Aro's desk, pulling the envelope and the receipts that Jake had given him from his back pocket and placed them slowly onto the desk between them, hopelessly aware of Caius's presence at the back of him.

"July's take," he said, cursing himself as his voice shook. "And the shop receipts."

"So it would seem," Aro replied, sliding the documents to his side.

He opened the envelope and saw the money inside of it, glancing quickly at Paul before emptying it out onto the table. Caius moved around the desk so that he was standing at Aro's side and once his boss gave the signal he began counting the money out for him. The silence as this was done was deafening and made Paul even more anxious to get the fuck out of dodge.

Aro watched Paul's face knowing that he had plenty to be nervous about. If the amount in the envelope was even one dollar under what was agreed then it would be Paul who paid for his boss's mistake. Jake Black was a slippery little fucker and Aro wanted nothing more than to fire a bullet at point blank range right between his fucking eyes. He knew however that if he did that then there would be no one left to pay his debt. Maybe Cullen would, he mused quietly to himself, but he was the asshole with the smarts that Black was seriously lacking. Plus his ass was currently rotting in prison.

"Fifteen, Sir," Caius said after what Paul was sure was a full year of time that had lapsed.

"You're sure?" Aro asked his eyes still on Paul.

"Yes, Sir, I checked it twice for you."

"Excellent. Take it to Marcus to put in the safe."

Caius took the envelope and the receipts and made his way out of the office leaving Paul as he shifted from one foot to the other.

"Tell your boss that the final amount still stands and that the interest grows every week." Aro pulled a cigar out of his top drawer and snipped off the end with a resounding slice from the cutter. Paul flinched as the end of the cigar bounced across the desk while Aro smirked. _It was all about the psychological with these bastards..._

Paul nodded quickly, unable to make his mouth work. "Um...yeah, he...he knows," he stuttered finally, pushing his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah," Aro agreed with a tone of disdain. "What a shame he didn't know that before he thought with his cock instead of his brain, huh?" Aro could feel the blood pounding in his ears as the words left his mouth.

"Yes, Sir," Paul muttered.

"Stop kissing my ass," Aro spat, "And get the fuck out."

Paul turned quickly on his heel and almost ran to the door, yanking it open and colliding with a small soft body that groaned at the impact. Paul regained his equilibrium and stood up; apologising profusely as he held onto the forearms of the woman that he had bumped into. His verbal tirade came to a grinding halt when he realised who it was.

"Paul," she whispered, her dark eyes widening as she looked at him.

"Vanessa," he replied, feeling his forehead start to sweat in panic.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you...? Is Jake...?"

"Nessie?" Aro's voice boomed through the door laced with a wide smile. "Come in here, sweetheart."

Paul moved around Vanessa as best as he could, giving her a wide berth while ignoring her questions. He turned from her, moving quickly towards the front door, silently cursing Jake and his stupid fucking choices.

=PoF=

Isabella narrowed her eyes and tucked her knees up to her chest while simultaneously turning the TV volume up as far as it would go. The incessant knocking at her front door had been driving her fucking crazy for the past ten minutes but she was determined she wasn't giving in. She had too much on her mind to deal with any overly protective bullshit.

"Isabella!" Jamie shouted through the door as the theme song to American Idol echoed through the wood. "Isabella, open the door please!"

He had to apologise to her face to face. She had been ignoring his calls and his texts since she had stormed out of his mother's house during the anniversary party and her silence was driving him beyond distraction. He continued to slam his fist against her door even though it had started to hurt like a bitch.

"Bells, please!" he begged. "Just let me apologise face to fa-..." he stopped speaking immediately as the door flew open to show Isabella looking fucking furious.

"What?" she snapped. "What do you want, Jamie? You're here to tell me how to live my life? To tell me what decisions to make?"

Jamie shook his head, wincing at the venom in her tone and exhaled. "No, not at all. Please, can I come in?"

Isabella stared at him for a moment, knowing that she couldn't shut the door in his face (as much as she wanted to). She huffed in annoyance and walked from the door, back towards the sofa. She threw herself down angrily, shooting Jamie a look of death as he slinked into her apartment and made his way towards her. He stood at the side of the sofa for a couple of minutes fingering the leather of the cushion nearest to him before he spoke.

"Look, I'm sorry, Bells," he muttered, looking from her profile back to the TV that was still blaring loudly. Isabella kept her eyes on the set and ignored him. She was too fucking angry to deal with his bullshit. Jamie had never seen her look so fierce. Even at the party she hadn't been as mad as she clearly was as she sat on the couch. But even so, Jamie's patience was wearing thin. He knew he had to apologise and dammit if she would fucking hear him do it.

He leaned over the arm of the sofa and grabbed the remote. He pointed it at the TV and turned it off before throwing it back down next to Isabella who was staring at him as though she was about to remove every limb from his body with her bare hands.

"What the fuck?" she seethed. "You can't just do things like that, Jamie!"

"I need you to listen to me!" he retorted with his palms out towards her. He fucking hated fighting with her. It didn't happen often but when it did it was always truly heinous.

"Fine!" she snapped. "Say your piece." She turned to look at him while crossing her arms across her chest, glaring at him as hard as she could.

"Bells," he started with a defeated sigh. "I'm sorry about what I said and did on Saturday. I really am. I know that you needed me to be there to support you and I wasn't and I feel like a complete asshole."

Isabella continued to stare at him as he began to shift from one foot to the other. He dropped his eyes and looked at his hands that were twisting in on themselves.

"I want you to know that from now on…" He looked back up at her. "I won't say anything about your job."

Isabella scoffed and rolled her eyes at him.

"No really," he insisted with a quick drop of his chin. "I've thought about it all weekend and I realise that you need a friend, not someone who is going to question what you do all the time." He pushed his hands into his coat pockets and shrugged. "So I won't. You have my word."

He did know it and he knew that the more he pushed and showed his concern in the only way he knew how to with Isabella, the more he was going to push her away. He couldn't let that happen. She was too important to him.

Isabella looked at him, waiting for the punch line. If it was one thing she knew for certain about Jamie Damon it was that he found it incredibly difficult to stay the fuck out of what didn't concern him. But similarly, she also knew that when he gave his word he meant it.

She lifted an index finger towards him. "Not one word, Jamie. I mean it. If you utter one condescending remark about how I need to be careful or about how I am putting myself in danger, I will personally remove your head with your nine-iron. I shit you not."

Jamie held onto the small smirk that was threatening to break out across his face.

"Understood," he replied. He watched as her finger returned to her lap and looked at her from under his lashes. "Am I forgiven?"

Isabella rolled her eyes again and patted the sofa next to her with a little more force than Jamie thought was entirely necessary. He shook his coat off and sat down next to her before Isabella's hand met his chest with a resounding smack.

"Holy fuck, Bells," he gasped almost bending in two. "I told you I was sorry!"

"That was for touching my TV. No-one fucks with it when Simon Cowell is on."

He coughed out a laugh while rubbing his chest as she picked up the remote and turned it back on. Her mouth was seriously becoming dirtier.

"Did you get a text from Alice?" Jamie asked when the first lot of commercials came on. He followed Isabella into the kitchen where she started rifling through her freezer.

"Yeah, I did," she answered, pulling out a pint of Ben and Jerry's. "She called me earlier. It'll be so cool to have her back in the city. I didn't realise how much I've missed her until she said she was coming back."

Alice Brandon was Isabella's best friend from college. They had both studied Literature and teaching and had graduated and taught together in London for a year. Alice had, for the past, two years been working in Texas where she lived with her boyfriend Jasper. Jasper, who worked for a telecommunications company, had recently been promoted and had accepted a job in the city meaning that they were both moving back. Alice had secured a supply post at an all-girls school until she found permanent work.

Isabella was truly excited that she would have her friend back in town. She knew above all people that Alice would understand her need to teach at the prison. Alice and she had very few secrets and if she was honest, Isabella couldn't wait to tell her about the job…_and_ Cullen.

"Well, we should get together this weekend," Jamie said as he took the spoon that Isabella was holding out for him. "We could go get food, have a few drinks. It'll be cool."

"Sounds good," Isabella answered. She sat back down on the sofa and watched as Jamie moved his feet to rest on the coffee table. "Hey!" she practically yelled, making Jamie jump and almost choke on his spoonful of Cherry Choc Delight.

"What?" he asked incredulously, watching in puzzlement as she pulled a stack of papers from where he was about to place his heels.

"This is my student's work. It doesn't need your feet all over it." She placed the papers down on the other side of the table and exhaled.

"Sorry," Jamie muttered, glancing at the work out of the side of his eye. He noticed the name on the top line immediately. Cullen. He felt his chest squeeze tightly. _That name again…_

"So, how did your first one on one session go?" he asked gingerly, keeping his eyes on the screen. "You know with um...Cullen, is it?"

Isabella eyed him cautiously and prayed that the skin on her face didn't give her away.

"It…um, it went well," she answered nonchalantly.

The truth was she had enjoyed every second of it, even when Cullen had acted his usual asshole self. It had to be said however that for the most part he had behaved himself and Isabella had been unable to hide her awe at his knowledge and insight into the work that she had given to him; work that he had completed with no argument.

"Oh yeah?" Jamie asked with a cocked eyebrow. "So, no...trouble?"

"Jamie," Isabella warned with her spoon half way to her mouth.

"I'm making conversation, Bells, chill out," Jamie retorted quickly with wide innocent eyes. _This not getting involved shit is gonna fucking kill me..._

Isabella sighed loudly. "_Yes_, it went great. _No_, there were no problems. He was very well behaved for the most part."

"The most part?" Jamie echoed while scooping some more ice cream from the pot between them.

"Yeah," Isabella answered with a small nod. "He can be a complete asshole." She looked between Jamie, the TV and the spoon in her hand before continuing firmly; unable to keep her words inside of her. "He hates authority - mine in particular - and has had a temper tantrum every time that we have met!"

Jamie watched as her cheeks flushed slightly and her hands whirred about as she spoke as though the words couldn't come out fast enough. She lifted herself from the sofa and turned towards him, plopping herself back down as she continued.

"The thing that annoys the shit out of me the most though is that he is _so_ fucking intelligent it's absurd!"

Jamie tilted his head back in understanding, holding onto the sarcastic comment that was just dying to slip through his lips.

"I mean, look at this," Isabella urged as she picked up Cullen's work and practically threw it at him, "His answers, the depth that he goes into...and his knowledge? Oh my God...he just _knew_ stuff!"

Jamie glanced over the work in front of him, not really taking it in before looking up at Isabella quickly when she was suddenly silent.

"What is it?" he asked softly, placing the work back on the table.

Isabella's face had lost its excited pink glow and was all at once paler and without the spark that had been so present ten seconds before. Jamie loved that spark and had missed it for so long. It was so good to see her _so_ full of life.

"It's just..." She took a deep breath as she swirled her spoon in the ice cream tub, but Isabella couldn't finish her sentence because she knew that Jamie wouldn't understand. Hell, she barely understood herself!

All she knew was that above the anger that had raged within her when Cullen's punk ass attitude had appeared during their session, there was a tinge of something else. She felt hurt by it. She truthfully thought that they had made leeway in their relationship but he had managed to burst that with one dickhead remark and it had stung.

She knew that it wasn't going to be easy but dammit she thought he'd at least meet her half way.

"Just what, Bells?" Jamie asked softly, cupping her shoulder in his palm.

"Nothing," she answered quietly with a small shrug. She looked up at him to see that he didn't believe the word that had just fallen from her lips. "It's nothing, Jay. I'm good, honestly."

And then she smiled at him; a tight smile that held no real happiness, making Jamie even more concerned and more determined than ever to find out just who the hell this Cullen guy was.

=PoF=

The following afternoon found Garrett Volture tapping his pen impatiently on the desk in front of him while he watched the cigarette smoke as it travelled down Edward's nose, hitting his chest and bouncing elegantly back into the air around them.

Edward had barely said five words since he had entered the sterile room forty minutes before and Garrett's patience was staring to run thin.

"So, Charlotte is coming in on Thursday of next week to talk to you about the parole board meeting," Garrett said in one long exhalation. Cullen's eyes lifted to his councillor, instantly seeing the aggravation that etched his face.

"Great," he offered.

Garrett rolled his eyes. "Yes, it is. But, Edward, do you know what would be even greater?"

Cullen shrugged.

"What would be really great right now would be for you to stop acting like a child and talk to me about what happened last week!"

Cullen kept his gaze on Garrett and flicked the ash off of the end of his cigarette. "Don't talk to me like that," he warned as his right eye twitched in annoyance.

He knew that Garrett wanted answers and in truth, Cullen wanted to give them to him but he just didn't know how. He was still trying to get his own head around the fact that Peaches was no longer a girl he saved one night but was a walking, talking beautiful woman that just happened to be his personal tutor.

Fuck's sake, he thought, you couldn't write this shit…

Garrett threw his pen down on the table and slammed himself back in his seat. "Don't give me that, Edward. I deserve to know why you reacted that way! Why did you have a panic attack and why did the doctor have to give you a sedative to knock your ass out for almost eighteen hours?"

Cullen drew in a long breath through his nose. Ordinarily Garrett's tone and attitude would have caused him to have a complete and utter bitch fit but the truth was, Cullen was too damn tired.

He hadn't been sleeping.

Since he had woken from his sedative induced blackness and realised who Miss Swan was he had been unable to rest. He had tossed and turned on his uncomfortable as shit cot bed while images of the night he had saved her, flashed through his head like a goddamn flick book. For so long the images had lulled him to a peaceful sleep but now…all they did was keep him awake. All _she_ did was keep him a-fucking-wake.

"I just…" Cullen started, bringing Garrett forward in his seat slightly. "I just remembered something from a long time ago."

Garrett placed his forearms slowly onto the table between them and pleaded with his eyes for Edward to continue. After five minutes he had still offered nothing more. Garrett exhaled, feeing mentally exhausted. He would get it out of him, he just had to bide his time. He had already driven his wife Kate crazy over the weekend as he talked none stop about an inmate that had collapsed in a state of panic. (He had kept all the main details confidential, although it killed him that he couldn't tell her.)

"Fair enough," Garrett said as he lifted his hands in the air. "So tell me how your session with Miss Swan went."

And there it was.

The tightening in Edward's face.

Garrett couldn't decide whether the whole panic attack _had_ been brought on by or was something to do with the pretty teacher but he continued to chide himself for being so moronic. Seriously, they had been in classes a full _week_ before the attack with Edward's only problem being that he couldn't keep his smart ass mouth shut. Garrett couldn't imagine what had changed.

"It was ok, I guess," Edward answered with a nonchalant shrug and a quick glance at the clock to see how long it would be until his next meeting with her.

_One hour._

He looked back at Garrett who was watching him intently. It immediately rubbed his shit the wrong fucking way.

"I didn't throw anything if that's what you're fucking worried about!" he snapped, extinguishing his cigarette with a hard slam of his fingers into the ashtray.

For fuck's sake he all of a sudden felt like he was in a fucking zoo being watched by snot covered kids.

He didn't like it one bit.

"Look, I'm doing what I was fucking told to do," he continued with a slap of his palm against his thighs and an agitated hand through his hair. "Shit, I even smiled at the pretentious bitch," he snarled, feeling a twist of guilt in his stomach as the word passed his lips. "Just leave me to do what the fuck I need to do to get this damn parole and everything will be just fucking peachy, ok?" He grabbed anxiously for another smoke.

Garrett smiled gently as he watched him. "Peachy," he muttered as he picked up his pen.

"The fuck you say?" Edward hissed as he narrowed his eyes at his councillor. No fucking way was he happy about Garrett saying what he had in the tone that he had. The fucker knew shit all about him _or_ his Peaches.

"Nothing," Garrett replied, keeping his eyes on his papers as he placed them into his briefcase.

"Well, fucking keep it that way," Edward growled, as he felt his fists clench and his pulse quicken while his leg began tapping up and down like fucking crazy. Garrett noticed this immediately and knew instantly that he needed to back off or change the subject.

"Well, maybe we'll leave it for today?" he offered as he clipped his case shut.

"Yeah, maybe," Cullen echoed with a sarcastic tone and a raised eyebrow.

"I wouldn't want you to be late for Miss Swan," Garrett added as he pulled his jacket from the back of his seat.

Cullen rolled his eyes and sucked on the cigarette between his lips. Garrett offered him three more before he placed the pack in his pocket. Cullen looked like he needed them and if it kept him from losing his temper with the poor girl then Garrett was all for it.

"I'll see you Friday," Garrett said as he turned towards the door.

"Whatever," Cullen muttered, feeling his body start to tense as he looked at the clock again.

_Forty-five minutes._

=PoF=

Fifty-five minutes later and Isabella was hurrying down the corridor towards the session room. She had met Garrett briefly on the corridor and had lost herself in the conversation with him about Cullen's parole officer and her upcoming visit. Garrett had tried to be optimistic with Isabella but deep down he was still to be convinced that her one on one sessions with Edward would make a whole lot of difference.

_It couldn't hurt though, right?_

Isabella herself was nervous about the _entire_ parole situation and was silently praying that Cullen would behave for the foreseeable future so that there would be no reason why he couldn't be released early. As arrogant and as big of a prick as he was, Isabella knew that he wanted it. Why would he have agreed to the sessions if he didn't?

She smiled at the guard on the door and walked in, pushing her hair back from her face to see Cullen standing in the far corner of the room, fisting his hands together with a droopy, almost finished cigarette dangling from his lips. His face was hard and, much to Isabella's dread became even harder when he looked at _her_.

He pulled the cigarette violently from his lips, making the ash fall to the floor and glared at her.

"Oh," he sneered. "And there was me, thinking that you were too fucking busy to keep an appointment." _What the fuck is she playing at, keeping my ass waiting? What other things does she have to do than be with _me_ for our session?_

Isabella exhaled and placed her bag onto the table. She held her tongue hearing Angela's words echo around her head about routine and it being vitally important to the inmates.

"I'm sorry," she said firmly as she watched him stride across the room from one side to the other like a caged lion.

He was stunning.

"I would have been here on time but I met Garrett on the way here and-..."

"What?" Cullen yelled, making Isabella jump and the guard by the door reach a hand quickly to the baton on his waist band.

Isabella looked back at Cullen curiously.

"What?" She echoed calmly, having no idea why he was so angry.

"And what the fuck did he say to you, huh?" Cullen cried, feeling his heart pound in his chest as he took a giant step towards her.

_What if he's said something to her about my panic attack? What if he had mentioned Peaches?_ Cullen had nearly dropped himself in it when he had muttered that word to her on their session the day before. _How hard would it be for Garrett to do the same? No, Garrett wouldn't do that...would he? He didn't know who or what Peaches was..._

Isabella crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him, her eyes taking in the look of anger and agitation that was rippling across his face. His green eyes were wide and almost...panicked?

"We just talked about your parole officer coming next week, that's all," Isabella replied calmly with a shrug. "He wanted me to talk to her about our sessions. He thinks it will help your application if I'm involved directly."

She watched as the fire in his eyes dimmed slightly and his strong, broad chest began to slow with the breaths that he was taking. He swallowed hard and Isabella found herself unable to pull her stare from his Adam's apple as it bobbed at the front of his throat.

_I wonder if it tastes like an apple...?_

She cleared her own throat and shook her head slightly of the inappropriate thought that had just entered her head.

"So again, Cullen, I apologise. I'm here now so we can get to work." She dropped her arms to her sides, trying to appear none defensive and gestured slowly to the chair by the table.

Cullen watched her, letting his stare roam across her face, taking her in. It felt like fucking forever since he had seen her and it bothered him enormously as to why he cared so fucking much after just twenty-four hours. He ran another hand through his hair and finally moved to his chair, sitting slowly but purposefully. He needed to get a grip on the damn situation. She already had so much power over him and he had to try and slow it.

He knew he couldn't stop it because fuck, she was Peaches so by definition she would always have a hold over him but he needed to keep it on his terms at all times.

"So, what exciting shit have you got for me today, Miss Swan?" he asked as he slumped further into his chair. _Be a prick, be the punk ass she knows so well... _"Because I have to tell you, I am on the edge of my fucking seat in excitement," he deadpanned.

Isabella however ignored his language as well as his tone even though they sliced up her spine like a cold finger, and pulled her resources out of her bag.

"We're staying with Tichborne for now. I wanted to go over the work that you did for me yesterday."

"Great," Cullen responded dryly, pulling his last cigarette from his pocket. He clicked at the guard to bring him a match, which he did with his tongue placed firmly between his teeth.

_Cocky little fucker..._

Cullen inhaled the smoke deeply before starting to exhale but stopped abruptly when he noticed that Miss Swan was moving her chair around to his side of the table…_the fuck?_

He stared at her in shock as she sat down, crossed her bare fucking legs and began sorting through the papers in front of her.

She paused when she couldn't take his eyes on her any longer. "What?" she asked incredulously.

With the cigarette still hanging in awe from his mouth, he glanced down at her, at the space between them and then at the space she had left at the other side of the table.

"Oh please," she scoffed in understanding. "What are you afraid of, that you'll catch teacher germs?" She rolled her eyes and looked back at the table.

The truth was that she wanted to talk to Cullen in depth about his answers and sitting next to him would make that easier. As she noticed the incredulity on his face however she suddenly considered that it was maybe _not _the best idea she had ever had and began to shift uncomfortably in her seat while glancing at the oblivious guard.

Cullen smirked at her response and pulled the smoke from his lips. "No, I'm not worried about that shit," he replied with a shake of his head. "I'm just surprised."

"Surprised?" Isabella asked with a furrowed brow. "Why would you be surprised?"

He shrugged and scratched his left forearm with the thumb of his right hand. "I'm surprised at how well you hide your fear."

Her eyes narrowed and he noticed her small pink tongue flick out against her bottom lip. He held his breath as he felt his cock harden even further against his thigh. _Fucking perfect._

He grimaced.

"I'm not scared of you," Isabella stated firmly, her eyes never leaving his. He smirked and the visual of him doing so started doing funny things to her body.

"Oh, Miss Swan, you really shouldn't have said that," Cullen retorted in a voice low enough that it made Isabella's ribs vibrate.

She looked at him for a beat, taking in his dark stare and his wry smile before she sat back in her seat and crossed her arms, unknowingly pushing her chest up and making it look all sorts of fucking awesome from where Cullen was sitting. He rubbed his eyebrow with his index finger and dragged his eyes away from the tits in question.

"And why should I be _scared_ of you?" Isabella asked with a hint of mockery in her voice.

Her position as top dog at that moment was quickly erased when Cullen moved forward in his seat towards her, breathing smoke down his nose in a way that it parted seductively as it hit his top lip. Isabella felt her breathing speed up and found herself blinking rapidly until he stopped so that his face was only a foot away from hers.

He was beautiful.

"You should be scared, _Peaches_," he murmured.

He said it so quietly that his lips barely moved.

"I am a dangerous criminal," he continued. "I'm a _bad_ man. I have done things that would make your pretty little head spin and you being this close," he gestured with his chin between them. "Well, let's just say," his eyes met hers. "It just makes me want to be a _bad_ man all over again."

_Sweet fucking Christ…_

Isabella exhaled hard before swallowing in the same way. She was left so off balance that the fact that he had called her Peaches didn't even register with her. Cullen smiled to himself and sat back in his seat. He looked at the guard who had taken a step towards them and narrowed his stare, warning his uniform wearing ass to back the fuck off.

Yeah, he had called her Peaches but what the fuck of it? She didn't know what the hell it meant and maybe, just maybe, him calling her by that name, would help keep his ass firmly on top of the clusterfuck that was the current situation.

_I can but fucking hope…_

"I take it you liked my work, huh?" he asked in a conceited tone, holding back the urge to look at the expression of shock that he knew was still covering her entire face. Instead he looked through the comments that she had made on his writings.

"It's…I, um…yeah, it…what?" Isabella croaked through her desert throat when her brain had finally rebooted and she was once again back in the room.

"I said you liked this shit," Cullen replied, still not looking at her but secretly giving himself a huge fucking chest bump for the reaction that he had gotten from her.

_Yeah, I'm the shit…hard cocks are nothing compared to incoherency, Miss Swan…_

Cullen had to admit to himself that she was still fucking hot when she was practically mute but he still preferred her fire.

"So are we doing some fucking work today or what?" he snapped at her, bringing her back to Earth with a huge motherfucking bump.

"Yeah, ok, give me a goddamn minute," Isabella answered curtly as she used the excuse of looking for a pen while she gathered her wits from around her fucking ankles. She cleared her throat and pulled the papers towards herself while leaning forward, placing her arm only half an inch from Cullen's.

They both felt the…thing: buzz, crackle, fizz, hum. Whatever it was, it was there in all its confusing glory, flickering between them like bees around honey and stinging the skin in a way that was, for Isabella, altogether too pleasurable.

She managed to keep her arm in that position for about sixty seconds before she had to move it away from him.

"You talk here about his use of metaphor," Isabella said as evenly as she could. "Why do you think he uses so many? You never explained that."

"He does it because he's feeling sorry for his own ass," Cullen answered quickly. "He's frustrated and full of regret which is just bullshit."

Isabella couldn't help but smile at his expressions. He was intelligent and wrote fluently but dammit if he couldn't articulate without cursing at least once a sentence.

"Why is it bullshit? He regrets his decisions-…"

"But that's just it," Cullen interrupted. "Why regret something that he wanted to do? The only shit this fucker regrets is that his ass got caught."

He patted his pockets and huffed in aggravation when he realised that he was out of smokes.

"I mean, look how many times he uses 'I' or 'My'," he continued with a finger pressed hard against the paper that the poem was written on. "He's a self absorbed motherfucker who laments about how he hasn't achieved shit in his life."

Isabella's eyes widened at his use of the word 'laments'. "Yes he does, but isn't that the tragedy of his situation? The fact that he is about to die at the age of twenty-eight and won't have a chance to achieve all he wants."

Cullen scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. "He should have thought about that before he tried to kill the fucking monarch."

His tone was hard and it made Isabella flinch. He was getting mad and something told her that it wasn't because of the poem that they were discussing. She wasn't even sure that they were even discussing _that_ anymore.

She sighed and decided on a new approach. "Ok, how about things you like about the poem? You said yesterday that you envy his clarity. Where do you see that?"

Cullen bit the inside of his mouth in annoyance. He wasn't sure what had made him feel that way. Maybe it was the poem and the fact that he felt that it was his life that had been written in three fucking stanzas or maybe it was the way that Miss Swan was actually interested in his point of view. She was listening so intently to him and for some reason it unnerved the shit out of him.

"Yeah," he replied after a moment of silence. "His clarity of life is the only thing that he has going for him. He realises that he's achieved fuck all in his twenty-eight years." He sighed. "It's fairly ironic that he wrote a fucking masterpiece the night before his death though, right?"

He looked up to Isabella and cocked an eyebrow as he waited for her to respond but before she could even think of a reply the sound of her cell phone ringing in her bag shattered the moment.

"Shit!" she exclaimed as she pulled her bag across the table.

The guard eyed her angrily. "You're not allowed cell phone devices in here, Miss Swan," he growled.

"I know," she snapped back at him, making Cullen smirk. "But this is my own time so I put it in my bag from my locker. I wasn't thinking _obviously._"

She frowned at the name on the screen and debated with herself for all of two seconds before she stood and walked to the other side of the room to answer it.

"Jamie," she hissed quietly although it wasn't quiet enough for Cullen not to hear. "I'm working what is it?"

"Shit, Bells, I forgot. I'm sorry, I thought you'd be finished…shit, I…I was just making sure we were still good for tonight?"

"Yeah, we are," she answered while glancing back quickly at Cullen who was staring right back at her with a look so full of venom that it took her breath away.

"Bells?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll meet you at seven," she answered quickly before hanging up and turning her cell off.

She stood for a moment looking at the phone in her hands before she started walking back to her seat. She couldn't even begin to describe the feeling that was sitting hard and weighty in her stomach. Guilt? Anger?

"I'm sorry about that," she mumbled as she threw the phone into her bag. Even before she could look back at Cullen he was on his feet and moving towards the door, holding his wrists out for the guard to cuff.

"Yeah, well I'm done here," he growled.

Isabella looked at him in alarm. "But we have forty minutes left-…"

"I don't give a fuck. I said I'm done," Cullen retorted in a voice so dangerously calm that it made all the hairs on Isabella's body stand on end.

The guard looked at Isabella and shrugged before placing the cuffs on Cullen's wrists and radioing for the guard outside the door to come in. Isabella stood, feeling utterly impotent, trying to think of something to say before he left.

"I…I'll," she stuttered as Cullen turned away from her.

"Cullen," she said. The earnestness in her voice surprised even her. He turned his head to the side slowly, his profile in full Roman effect. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, not daring one bit to look back at her.

"I'll see you on Thursday," she muttered as the door opened and the assisting guard walked in, gripping Cullen's right elbow. He didn't answer but simply dipped his chin in what Isabella hoped was a nod of agreement.

The guards led him out the door and as it closed behind the trio, Isabella slumped down in her seat, engulfed by the silence while having no fucking clue what the hell had just happened.

**Holy jealous PAW is fucking hot, Batman!**

**I hope the transition was not too painful and that you understand my need to have a strong plot to go with the characters. I hope it answered a few of your questions too.**

**If not, PM me or ask in your review – whichever is easiest.**

**Until next week, Bat fans…**

**TTFN xxx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey my young PAW lovers! ****I am here!**

**Sorry for the delay – sickness, doctors, hospitals, yadda yadda – but I'm here now so YAY, on with the show.**

**Our sexy jail bird is starting to lose it a little now after hearing Isabella talk to Jamie on the phone…let's see what happens.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 8: ****Conflicted**

_Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves. _~ **Abraham Lincoln**

Cullen could feel the blood pounding in his ears.

It echoed and reverberated around his skull, seemingly increasing the sounds of everything else around him, making him wince and flinch into himself. The thunderous way in which the guard's feet met the sterile floor of the prison ward made his eyes close momentarily. The crunch and creak of the fabric of his bitch ass uniform as he moved his flabby arms and dumpy legs, to the continuous clank and clatter of the metal that was around Cullen's wrists and waist; all of it.

It was all too much.

He stood, silent and vacant as shit poke face guard, Number One, un-cuffed him, once he was back in his cell. The guard eyed him suspiciously with tight lips and a shrug before closing the cell door, apparently flummoxed by the almost subdued aura that now surrounded Cullen.

But subdued was a word that was so far off from describing Cullen at that moment that had he been a mind reader and heard the guard's thoughts, he would have laughed his punk ass off – and then smashed the stupid motherfucker's face into the bars that had been between them.

Because that was _really_ how he was feeling. He wanted to smash, hurt, throw, kick, punch, maim and rip. Hell, he would spit, bite and scratch like a pussy bitch if it would only take away the huge ball of fucking hate and anger that was sitting like a lead fucking weight in the centre of his chest.

He stood and stared out into the hallway of Block 17, trying to regain some type of normal, human perspective on the situation. He closed his eyes and breathed. He clenched his fists and dropped his forehead against the cold metal bar in front of him.

She was with someone. _'Peaches'_ was no longer his.

He swallowed and gritted his teeth, making his jaw flex and crunch under his ears as the cold of the metal bar tried its hardest to permeate the hot flesh of Cullen's face.

It was, Cullen thought quickly, completely and utterly fucking ridiculous to even begin to think that she wouldn't be with anyone. Shit, the woman was fucking beautiful, anyone and everyone could see that. She was smart, passionate, funny, hell she stood up to his ass and without any glimmer of fear in her eyes which he found an incredible turn on. She was bound to appeal to men all over the damn place and that was ignoring the fact that until a week ago she had no idea that Cullen existed or even that they shared such an intense connection after one night fifteen years before.

No, Cullen thought to himself as he rotated his body until the back of his head was resting on the bars; he had no claim on her, no excuse to feel such primal possessiveness over her, even if she _was_ his Peaches. But then she would always be that to him. He exhaled hard and dropped his chin to his chest, feeling entirely dejected and more lost than he ever thought possible.

He would have to let her go.

He could only just function knowing who she was while being stuck in the one place he thought _she_ would keep him out of. Let alone having the knowledge that, potentially, she went home to…_Jamie_ every time she left is side. It embarrassed him and enraged him in equal measure, that she saw him as a punk ass criminal (which of course he was) and not the man that had saved her from an almost certain death. Did she even remember? And if she had, had she told anyone about the boy that had held her for two hours in a door way while she cried?

_Did it fucking matter_?

He was in prison and she was out there and even when he did get out, there was no way on fucking Earth that she would want anything to do with him. She was too good for him. Plus, she taught him out of pity, not because she liked being near him because fuck, why would she like being near a fucking lousy assed criminal.

No, he seethed at himself as he strode over to the table that held the Tichborne critique novel that he had take from the prison library the day before, he would just put a stop to the hold that she had on him.

Enough was enough.

But, even as the novel slammed hard against the white wash wall of his four-by-eight cell with a resounding bang, and even as Cullen dropped his full weight face down onto his bed, all he could think about and all he could see at the back of his eyelids was the look in her eyes, twenty minutes before, when he told her he was leaving.

=PoF=

Isabella threw her bags down even before she had shut her apartment door, which she did by using the heel of her shoe. Her car keys followed, thrown down with a sharp huff and an agitated and somewhat perplexed hand through her hair.

What the fuck had happened?

She had no idea what had occurred to make Cullen leave the way that he had. The session had been going so well. They had talked like two civilised human beings. Shit, she had even sat next to him (which she was still amazed at herself for). What the hell had changed between the conversations about metaphor in _Tichborne's Elegy _and the moment Cullen had decided that he was leaving?

She kicked off her heels and stormed through her apartment towards the bathroom, pulling her blouse out of her skirt as she did, having no clue what the hell Cullen's problem was. She had to be honest with her self, his mood swings were giving her whiplash and additionally were on the verge of becoming downright boring.

_It must take up so much of his time and effort to act like such a complete prick all the time! He must be fucking exhausted_.

After stripping down, she stepped into the shower, groaning loudly as the water hit her at the nape of the neck, massaging the huge ball of tension that she had developed since staring her job at Arthur Kill. She let her thoughts drift to her time at the facility, more specifically her time with a certain Edward Cullen.

Isabella was not ignorant. She knew that her own behaviour, in terms of her interaction with Cullen was borderline unprofessional. Her behaviour management with him was lax at best and she held onto her own temper around him by the skin of her teeth. She had tried so hard during this particular session though. She had tried to build bridges, even lay a fucking foundation for a bridge and he had, it seemed, been willing for her to do it. Until he left forty minutes early with no reason why.

_He didn't even look me in the eye._

She grimaced as she washed her hair before pushing her face under the water, trying her hardest to forget the clusterfuck of the day and focus on the night ahead.

An hour and a half later and she was walking into Leah's favourite Italian restaurant in SoHo to be greeted by the girl herself. Isabella stifled a laugh as she looked at what her friend was wearing. A huge, flashing 25 badge covered the left breast of her cream blouse which was accompanied by a pink sash that said quite clearly, if the badge wasn't enough, that she was in fact the birthday girl.

"Bells, you made it," Leah laughed as she hugged her friend and led her to a private room that her parents had no doubt booked especially for her.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it," Isabella replied before handing Leah a card and present.

Leah squealed quietly when she looked down at the silver wrapping paper of the box in her hands. "Thanks," she beamed. "Can I open it?"

"Well, it is your birthday," Isabella laughed back at her as she placed her purse down on the dark wood bar. She glanced around quickly to see Leah's parents, friends from college and Leah's work and Jamie sitting in the corner of the room with…was that Victoria?

"I didn't know he was bringing her," Leah muttered in an annoyed voice, her eyes trained on the envelope in her hands that she opened with the nail of her thumb. She had felt rather than seen Isabella tense up when she saw who her asshole brother was with.

Isabella rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Whatever," she sighed and ordered a Martini with extra olives.

As far as she was concerned Jamie could do what he wanted in terms of his love life, even if he was a fucking idiot for taking Victoria back. There was no love lost between herself and Victoria but that was only because of the way the bitch had treated Jamie during their two year relationship. She had messed him around, played games with him and left him, with his head wedged firmly up his ass.

Isabella had called Victoria up and threatened her to stay away from her friend or it would be her foot wedged up _her_ bony ass. Victoria had tried to accuse Isabella of harassment which Isabella had found just about the funniest thing that she had ever heard.

Yeah, there was definitely no love lost, for sure.

"Isabella," Jamie said softly at her side as she placed her glass back down on the bar. She turned to him and smiled, giving him her left cheek to kiss.

"You look great," he offered, gesturing to the black and red wrap dress that she was wearing. In truth she looked sexy as hell but he wasn't about to air that particular thought.

"Thanks," she replied. "You too." He looked exceedingly handsome in a black button down with the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. The dark blue distressed jeans and dark brown boots finished the effortless look perfectly. Isabella knew that her best friend was good looking. Hell, many who had met him had called him 'hot' or 'sexy' and, dressed how he was, she could definitely see why.

Jamie fiddled with the hem of his shirt and smiled. He was nervous and they both knew the reason why. That very reason was still sitting in the corner of the room glaring at Isabella like a hawk over the rim of her champagne flute. Isabella chuckled and shook her head.

"She's glaring, right?" Jamie asked, leaning his forearms on the bar.

"Oh, yeah," Isabella replied. "I'm amazed I don't have holes burned into my damn forehead."

Jamie snorted and closed his eyes for a second. "Nothing changes," he conceded.

"What are you…?" she started in exasperation before changing her mind quickly. "You know what, Jamie, never mind," Isabella murmured with a large sip of her drink.

Jamie watched her face pinch and immediately felt like a complete prick. He knew that Victoria was no good for him and it made him feel like shit that Isabella was disappointed in him. He just couldn't explain the fact that the red-haired girl behind him had a hold over him that was almost as powerful as the one that Isabella had. Victoria was beautiful, sexy, smart, and the sex was fucking incredible but she could, in truth, be an utter bitch.

They had spent the best part of the past forty-eight hours in bed together (he'd called in sick at work – something he never did and would never tell Isabella) and as a result, he had found it impossible not to invite her to his little sister's birthday party. Leah was pissed as soon as the couple walked through the door, hand-in-hand.

He wanted nothing more than to tell Isabella not to worry about him and his fragile heart but he knew that that would be a huge lie.

"I know what I'm doing, Bells," he said gently, his large blue eyes, finding everything but her face to rest upon.

The cocked eyebrow that met his statement told him that his best friend saw right through his bullshit. He laughed lightly and rubbed his hands down his stubbled face. Isabella watched him and couldn't help but rub her palm down his back to comfort him. He was going to get hurt again, she just knew it, but she didn't want to lecture him. She'd done it before and yet…here he was…with _her_…_again._ Jamie hummed in appreciation at the feel of her warmth against his shoulder blade and winked at her.

"I'm sorry about calling you at work today, Bells," he said quietly as he stood to his full height of six-one. "I honestly forgot that you stayed later on a Tuesday. I didn't get you into trouble did I?"

Isabella rolled her eyes while shaking her head and was just about to chastise him for calling her during her session when she froze. _Cullen._ He had left after she had received Jamie's call. Why the hell would he have done that? Yes, it was unprofessional of her to answer her phone but hell, did it warrant his reaction? He had looked so angry, so venomous when she had looked at him as she spoke to Jamie...

"Isabella?"

Leah's voice brought her back to the moment. She turned to her friend, blinking back the image of Cullen's enraged stare. Leah was standing with the black, peep-toe Gucci pumps that Isabella had bought for her birthday, clutched to her chest as though they were the answer to life itself.

"These…they…oh God, they are _so_ pretty!" She flung her arms around Isabella and kissed her cheek hard. "Thank you, thank you!"

Isabella and Jamie laughed at the goo-goo eyes that Leah was making over the shoes that she held and looked at each other knowingly as she took off around the room to show everyone.

"Nice, Bells," Jamie scoffed, "Like she needs another pair of damn shoes."

"Easy, Damon," Isabella warned with narrowed eyes and a waggle of her index finger. "Those are $1,200 Gucci babies. Have some respect!"

Jamie held his hands up in mock surrender, chuckling at Isabella's tone before putting them back into his pockets. "So," he continued as he gestured for the bar man to grab him a bottle of beer. "Were you in class when I rang?"

Isabella glanced at him quickly before looking down at her own shoes. "No," she answered quietly. "Well, I was...I was tutoring Cullen."

"Ah," Jamie replied with a nod of his head, trying like hell to ignore the flash of light that passed across her face as she said that damned name. She was such an open book. "I'm sorry again, Bells," he offered truthfully. He didn't want her to get in trouble.

Isabella shrugged. "No biggy. I just had an irate inmate on my hands."

She looked up at Jamie to see the colour drain from his face.

"I'm kidding," she snickered. "It was fine."

It may have only been a half truth but Isabella had no idea how to explain what had happened after Jamie had called her.

"Fuck, Bells," Jamie exhaled, clutching his chest. "That wasn't fucking funny!"

"It was funny," Isabella countered firmly. "Maybe it'll teach you not to call me at work unless your head is hanging off."

"Understood," he replied with a wry smile. He glanced back over at Victoria and saw she was looking more than a little bored and a lot pissed that he was still standing talking to Isabella. He exhaled loudly and bit the inside of his mouth. He turned back to Isabella who looked at him sympathetically. It ripped him in two that she did that.

"I'd better…" he trailed off and threw his thumb over his shoulder.

Isabella nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah, you better had. I'm just waiting for her head to start spinning three-sixty."

Jamie frowned at her gently but couldn't, for the life of him, hold back the small smile that crossed his lips as he turned and walked back towards the red-haired woman that would never be a match for the brunette he had just left standing at the bar.

=PoF=

Two days later found Isabella back in front of her normal class, laughing at Emmett as he waxed lyrical about '_the dumb-fuck-Shakespeare_,' and his '_stupid pussy language_.'

"I mean," he cried loudly. "Why the fuck can't he just say that Shylock was pissed instead of spouting all this shit with 'thou', 'thee' and the rest of it?" He looked at his teacher with wide expectant eyes.

"You actually want me to answer that, Emmett?" she asked with a small giggle.

"Shit, yeah, Miss S!" he hollered. "Why is he talking about ewes and '_woolly breeders'_ and who the fuck is '_Jacob_'?"

Isabella gestured with her hands in a 'T' shape for him to stop and calm down. She had only given the class the first Act of_ The Merchant of Venice _but it appeared to have been too much too soon. Even with background context and detailed character sheets, the entire class appeared lost. Emmett slammed back in his seat and huffed dramatically. It pissed him off no end that he felt completely confused by the stupid words that were in front of him.

"Ok," Isabella sighed, placing her copy of the text face down on her desk. "Maybe we're going a little fast."

A collective mummer of affirmatives and curses wafted around the room. All except for Sam, who sat, enthralled in the language on the page in front of him. He loved Shakespeare. Isabella smiled at him quickly before focusing back on the entire class.

"So, you all understand that Shylock, the loan shark, is a Jew, yes?" Isabella asked and was greeted with a round of slow nods. "Ok, and from the context material that I gave you, what do we understand about the religion of the time in England?"

"They were all Christian," Sam murmured, with his face still engrossed in the pages before him.

"Absolutely, Sam and what were people's thoughts on none practicing Christians at that time? For example, how did everyone see Shylock and the fact that he is a Jew?"

"He would have been discriminated against. That's why he's so…" He glanced at Emmett, "…Pissed."

Emmett blinked rapidly back at Sam. "Holy shit, Sammy, did you just try to be funny?"

The class laughed, including Sam who shrugged nonchalantly at Emmett's jesting.

"Quil," Isabella said loudly.

"Ma'am," he responded with a sly wink.

"What's your favourite ice cream flavour?"

He bit the inside of his mouth and glanced at the ceiling, "Um…strawberry?"

"Fucking gay," Tyler muttered under his breath, which garnered a stern look from Isabella. Tyler immediately looked remorseful and dropped his chin to his chest with downcast eyes.

The relationships that Isabella was building with each individual student were becoming more and more evident with each session. She felt more in control and more respected which was a damn good feeling.

"Ok, so Quil, imagine that you are Shylock and you live in a world where you love strawberry ice cream but everyone else around you loves chocolate. Everyone. No-one else likes strawberry and they diss and say hateful things to you constantly because of it: every day, all day, for your whole life."

"Shouldn't be too hard to imagine people hating your guts, hey Quil?" Emmett said with a grin as he stretched his mammoth arms into the air above his head. Quil flipped him the finger under his desk out of Isabella's sight.

"But now imagine that the ice cream works like cash," Isabella continued. "Imagine, Emmett, that you are Antonio and that all the chocolate ice cream you have is worth about $20 but the strawberry that Quil has is worth $1000. How does that change his position in society?"

Emmett frowned towards Isabella and then at a smug looking Quil. "I'd say give me some of that fucking strawberry ice cream!"

"Exactly," Isabella said. "But you and all your chocolate loving buddies have dissed and cussed Quil and his love of strawberry. How would he feel if you asked for some of it?" 

"I'd say get fucked!" Quil laughed as he slapped his thigh heartily.

"Which is why, when Antonio approaches Shylock for a loan, Shylock is so...pissed," Isabella concluded.

"Because Antonio cussed Shylock for being…" Emmet paused, "…a Jew, but still asked him for money?"

"Bingo," Isabella beamed back at him.

"Two-faced motherfucker," Tyler muttered with a shake of his head.

All the faces in front of her suddenly lit up in understanding. She breathed a sigh of relief and once more picked up her text.

"Let's try again shall we? The Merchant of Venice, Act One."

=PoF=

Later that afternoon under the burning July sun Emmett and Cullen sat side by side in their normal spot, smoking and watching the basketball game that was becoming somewhat heated. Cullen snorted loudly as Liam O'Reilly barged into Quil, leaving him sprawling across the asphalt

"Dick," Emmett muttered, with a shake of his head.

"Agreed," Cullen conceded with a smirk and a drag of his smoke.

Cullen blew the smoke out of his lungs slowly, cherishing the relaxing sensation that washed over him every time that he sparked up. He had hardly slept the past two nights and his patience and tolerance for all things Arthur Kill were at an all time low. He hadn't really wanted to be sociable but he had a lot of time for Emmett and couldn't refuse the offer of a smoke.

His mind was still twisted in on itself as it had been since the abrupt ending of his session with Peaches, with him only coming to one, definite conclusion. He had to stop seeing her. It wasn't doing him or his mental state any good. He would talk to Garrett and work something out before his parole officer meeting. He had to. He'd already had a talk with Newton about stopping the classes and he would broach the subject with his councillor during their meeting which was scheduled for the next day.

He didn't care what it meant for his application for early release, he simply couldn't continue the way that he was.

He was learning slowly but surely that the fact that Peaches saw him behind bars - as a social reject, as an unlawful citizen, as a criminal - had been crushing his soul gradually and torturously every day since he had realised who she was. The truth was, was that she was just about the only good thing that he had done in his life and to wake up in his shithole cell and be constantly reminded of the epic fuck ups of his life while she was there, was just too much to take. It was confusing and depressing as hell.

He felt suffocated and lifeless and he once again found himself rubbing his hand across his chest to ease the ache that had resided there since his Tuesday session.

"So, Cullen, how are your Lit sessions going?" Emmett asked as blasé as he could.

In truth Emmett was fucking itching to find out how the two of them had been coping being in such close proximity to each other. _Fuck me, I bet it's like the clash of the fucking Titans._ He smiled to himself as he thought about Miss. S laying Cullen out on his ass with one hand behind her back and a Shakespearean novel in the other.

Cullen cleared his throat and flicked his cigarette across the yard. He wanted to tell Emmett that he had decided to stop attending the classes that he had had enough, but that would only lead to more questions and Cullen had neither the time nor the inclination to even think of excuses to satisfy them.

_Oh yeah, Emmett, it turns out that Miss Swan is __actually Peaches, the girl who's life I saved fifteen years ago and has had a place in my soul ever since…_Yeah, no fucking way…

"They've gone ok so far," he answered quickly as he leaned back against the wooden bench table. "Well, when she's not being an uptight bitch," he added for effect. The words felt like shit on his tongue but hell, image was everything.

Emmett smirked and cocked an eyebrow at him and his pale, drawn face. He looked tired as fuck.

"She's not that bad, man," he offered. "Fuck, she's the first tutor that I've had that has actually taught me something. I mean, shit, we've been doing Shakespeare and I have actually _liked_ it." He laughed loudly and widened his eyes at the absurdity of his own words.

"Shakespeare, huh?" Cullen asked through closed lips.

"Yeah, The Merchant of Venice," Emmett said, silently pleased with himself that he had remembered the title of the fucking thing.

Cullen's head snapped toward the large man at his side. "You're shitting me?" he almost shouted.

Emmett frowned and looked quickly around himself, "No. Why?"

Cullen clenched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

_The Merchant of Venice,_ he mused…_a debt to be paid in a pound of flesh…fucking perfect, Peaches…fucking perfect._

"No reason," he answered after a moment, laughing humourlessly into his palms that he rubbed down his face.

His next sarcastic comment was halted by the basket ball that slammed into his side, hard leaving him slightly winded. He was on his feet in seconds, glaring around the court that had become almost silent. He looked down at the ball that was still spinning on its side at his feet and bent down to pick it up.

He lifted it wordlessly and held it up in question. _Which motherfucker needs killing?_

Emmett sat silently in his seat, waiting for the inevitable explosion of wrath that was almost visible on Cullen's face. He leaned forward, ready to jump in when the fireworks went off. After an age, Tyler Crowley stepped forward looking horrendously nauseous and doubly guilty, his eyes flickering from Cullen, to the ball in his hand and back again. _Shit!_

"My…my bad, Cullen," he croaked as he stepped closer to the potential psychopath before him. "I hit the ball in defence and...I didn't mean for you to...fuck, man I'm sorry."

Tyler continued to stammer and shift his weight from foot to foot suddenly feeling light headed at the thought of the impending shit storm that was about to crash over him, but Cullen's attention had been drawn to the car lot on the other side of the cage he found himself in and the prize that rested at the other side of it.

Peaches, was standing at her car, pulling something from the trunk.

Leaning over into the small car, she was wearing another tight, sexy as all hell, grey skirt with a black blouse and tall heels which made her legs look long, lean and just about good enough to suck on. Cullen swallowed hard as a familiar throb began down his body. He continued to watch her, transfixed as she turned from her Mini Cooper back towards the facility with a large bag in her hand.

The sun, that was burning the asphalt, caught her hair in such a way that, for one split second, she looked like an angel with a brunette halo.

She was fucking beautiful.

Tyler chanced a moment to look over his shoulder towards whatever had caught Cullen's attention and smirked as he caught the back of Miss Swan's ass as it disappeared into the main building door.

"Fuck yeah," he murmured before biting his lip. _Bitch had a fine ass._

"'Scuse me?" Cullen growled through teeth that were pressed together hard enough that they could have bent steel. There was no way in hell that the shit head before him was stupid enough to make a comment on his Peaches, let alone look at her the way that he just had. The man had a serious fucking death wish.

"What did you just say?" he asked in a calm as death voice that made even Emmett shift in his seat.

Tyler looked at Cullen in confusion, frowning at the expression on Cullen's face. "I...I was just..." He pointed over his shoulder. "Miss Swan and..."

"Miss Swan _and_...fucking what?" Cullen seethed, dropping the basket ball so that it bounced twice and rolled to the feet of Sam who looked down at it in surprise from his seat on the adjacent bench where he had been engrossed in a book.

Tyler meanwhile was trying like hell to find an answer in his head that wouldn't result in his face being pummelled. He had no idea why Cullen was reacting the way he was but the look in his eyes was murderous and fucking terrifying. They were so dark against his pale skin that he looked un-human, predatory, and ready to draw blood.

"I…I…" Tyler continued, becoming lost in a sea of words and panic. He looked quickly in alarm at Emmett whose eyes were fixed on Cullen as he took a slow step towards the motherfucker in front of him. If shit was going to go down, it was Cullen he'd need to hold back first, of that there was no doubt. Emmett had never seen him look so dangerous.

"You like the look of her do you?" Cullen asked his voice still so low that it was almost a rumble in his chest.

Tyler took a tentative step back, his breath leaving his chest in quick heaves that hurt his throat. He swallowed and tried to speak but his voice, like his so called buddies, had fucked off and left him alone to fight the mad man looming over him.

"She's…" Tyler managed.

"She's what?" Cullen asked, cocking his head slightly to the right. "Come on, Tyler. What were you thinking just now about Miss Swan?"

_Fuck!_

"She's…she's nice," he whimpered, knowing for a fact that should he say that he thought she had an ass that would be awesome to spank, that he would be breathing through a tube for the rest of his life.

He knew it and Cullen knew it.

But, unlike Tyler, Cullen couldn't see reason or even begin to be rational. He couldn't see anything through the fog of rage that surrounded him. He had seen it in Tyler's face that he wanted his Peaches and didn't need to be a fucking mind reader to know what kind of dirty, perverted thoughts he had had about her. _Mine!_

The blood was once again coursing through his veins like a tsunami as he heard the echo of Peaches' voice as she had spoken into the phone. _Jamie._ He had her…and Cullen didn't and there was fuck all he could do about it.

Tyler, on the other hand, fantasised about her, wanted her, and was standing just a foot away from him. _Unlucky fuck._

And as quick as that thought entered his head, Cullen had pulled his right fist back and slammed it square into Tyler's face. The satisfying crunch of his nose was immediately muted by the shouts of encouragement from the other inmates, mingled with the whistles and stampeding feet of the guards who had been oblivious to the entire exchange between the two men for the whole sixty seconds that it had lasted.

Tyler hit the floor like a lead weight, crying out and clutching his face as his eyes streamed, but was barely conscious of the fact that he was no longer vertical before Cullen was on him again, punching, kicking and grabbing in such a way that Tyler was convinced he had grown extra arms and legs just to spite him. Cullen was relentless. He had no control over his body at that point. He simply let the fury, ache and disgust in him self take over.

Emmett was up on his feet by this point, gripping Cullen by the waist, trying to heave him away while shouting for him to calm his stupid, aggressive ass down before the whole lot of them ended up in solitary. He pulled and lifted with everything he had. Cullen, who was lost in the adrenaline and pain in his fists, managed a couple more kicks at Tyler, before he relented to the giant man's strength and the hurt in his soul and collapsed, entirely defeated against his chest as the guards descended.

=PoF=

"What do you mean he's not attending?" Isabella asked, unable to hide the annoyance and irritation in her voice as she stood, arms folded, glaring at Mike Newton who was sitting in the leather backed chair behind his large wooden desk.

Isabella had been called to him fifteen minutes before her allotted session with Cullen, to be told that her student had been involved in some type of altercation and wouldn't be able to go to attend her sessions…indefinitely.

"What kind of altercation?" Isabella continued, allowing Newton no time to answer her first question. "I mean…" She paused. "Is he ok?"

Her voice softened as the words left her mouth. She couldn't deny that she was worried that he had gotten hurt. Why else would he be unable to study with her for an indefinite amount of time? How hurt was he?

"He is fine," Newton scoffed, picking up a pen from his desk and playing with it between his index fingers. "The other guy…not so much."

That was putting it lightly. Tyler Crowley was left with a broken nose, a fractured jaw and bruised ribs. He was a mess and would be in the clinic for a good week – at least.

"Tyler Crowley will also be missing from your regular timetable for a time. I'll keep you posted on when that will change."

Isabella dropped her hands to her sides. "Wait. What? Tyler _and_ Cullen? What the hell went on today?"

Newton looked at the expression on Isabella's face and saw not only annoyance at his evasiveness but also worry. She was actually worried about those two losers. _Fuck's sake._

He cleared his throat, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to be honest with her and leaned forward in his chair. "Cullen decided that he would take some of his pent up anger out of poor Tyler's pretty little face today in the yard. As a result he has been remanded in solitary for forty-eight hours and then will be cautioned and moved to another block where he is less likely to find any trouble." Newton could but hope.

Isabella frowned, putting the fact that Cullen had pummelled another man at the back of her mind to think about later. "But that doesn't explain why he won't be in any of my lessons next week. You said he wouldn't be attending indefinitely."

"Yes," Newton answered quickly with a sharp nod. "Cullen and I had a talk yesterday about your sessions and he has decided that he no longer wants to partake in them. He was very succinct about it." Understatement, Newton thought dryly.

Cullen had practically demanded his civil rights to be taken out of the one-to-one lessons. Newton was even more surprised that Cullen had asked to speak to him first and not his dickhead councillor Garrett Volture. It was clear that Cullen was upset about something and as much as Newton wanted to close his eyes to it, he couldn't help but think that it had something to do with the beautiful woman standing in his office.

Isabella listened to the words that Newton spoke and let them saturate her mind. She couldn't understand why she then suddenly felt breathless and weak on her feet, "Wh-…what?"

Newton smiled sardonically at the way her face scrunched in confusion. "Cullen was adamant that he no longer wants to take English Literature…"

"But his parole," Isabella interrupted with outstretched palms. "He's doing it so that he can get early parole."

Newton didn't hide his amusement at that particular statement. "Miss Swan, after today's outburst, he wouldn't be able to get parole if he chanted one hundred Hail Mary's in Latin and took to hand rearing cute baby chicks."

Isabella ignored his facetious tone, biting her tongue, hard, but failed dismally at stopping her eyes from narrowing at the prick sitting in front of her.

"He doesn't want to do them anymore," Newton said firmly when he noticed this. "He's obviously not made for the world of Literature." He shrugged ignorantly and leaned back in his seat. Isabella was convinced that he saw it as a fucking throne.

"For your information, Mr Newton," she said as evenly as she could after taking a deep calming breath. "Cullen is an extremely intelligent and gifted individual whose knowledge of Literature is exemplary." 

Newton smirked. "Is that so?" he asked with patronising a tilt of his head.

"Yes," Isabella retorted, hardly moving her mouth. "And if you spoke to him and treated him like a human being instead of an animal then you might just see it for yourself." 

Newton was immediately incensed. "You will watch your tone, Miss Swan," he snapped. "You may not like it, but I am your superior and you will treat me with the respect that that title deserves."

Isabella closed her mouth quickly and dropped her eyes to the floor, utterly bewildered by the fact that tears were stinging the back of them. She took a long breath through her nose and swallowed.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, lifting her eyes slowly, hoping beyond hope that he couldn't see the emotion that she was holding back. "You're right. That was completely out of line and I apologise."

Newton watched her, trying to catch her in a bullshit lie but found that she seemed sincere enough. He nodded slowly. "Apology accepted," he retorted quietly. He pressed his palms to the desk between them and sighed. After a couple of moments of tense silence he was just about ready to tear his hair out.

"Look," he murmured. "I understand that you feel some sort of…" He waved his hand dismissively. "…You care for the inmates…"

"Students," Isabella interjected softly.

"Yes," Newton said with an exasperated breath. "But they are what they are, Miss Swan. They are criminals. They have turned their back on the values and morals of society, flicked them the finger and lived their lives bringing pain and misery to everyone around them. They are here because of that. They forfeited their freedom so that they could get high, rob an old lady of her last savings or steal a car because it gives them a thrill."

Isabella tried to understand what he was saying. She above all people knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of someone who had turned their back on morals and integrity to instead choose a life of causing others hurt and pain. But her students were in a different league than the men who stole her father away. They had been pure evil. Her students were misguided. She could be seen as being ignorant herself but she knew malevolence when she saw it and there was not a hint of it in the men she taught.

Especially Cullen.

She felt her chest tighten again inexplicably.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Miss Swan?" Newton asked with a dip of his chin as he watched her face shimmer with a hundred different emotions. She nodded silently in response.

"Good," he answered. "Once again, I'm sorry about Cullen. He is unpredictable but on the brighter side you'll at least have more time on your hands." He smiled but Isabella didn't return it.

She couldn't help but mull over the reasons why Cullen would suddenly want to stop meeting with her. They had just started to get along. They were communicating better. She had seen such glimmers of brilliance and his temper had been so much more controlled. What the hell had changed? Why did he not want to spend time with her anymore and why the hell did that sting so damn much?

She dropped her shoulders and looked back at Newton who was eying her expectantly.

"I'll see you in the morning," she offered before turning around and leaving the stuffy office and its equally stuffy occupant.

Isabella grabbed her bags from the staff room and strode out of the building towards her car, glancing quickly at the inmates that were hanging out on the courts and yard. Her thoughts immediately went to Cullen and how he was doing. Was he in pain? How did he cope in solitary?

She instantly felt guilty, knowing that he had – in an apparently unprovoked attack – left Tyler in a hell of a state. And more to the point why the fuck did she care so damned much?

She threw her bags into the trunk and slammed it shut before dropping herself heavily into the driver's seat. There was more to this, there had to be. She just couldn't seem to fathom why Cullen had behaved the way he had: leaving her in anger and then beating a man to a pulp. He was desperate for early parole, any fool could see that. None of it made any sense.

She pushed her hands through her hair and cursed her self and her stubborn, tenacious nature. She needed answers and she knew that there was only one man that could give them to her.

After a couple of minutes consideration, she flipped open her phone and scrolled through her phone book before pressing call.

"Hello?" The voice answered on the third ring.

"Hello, Garrett, this is Isabella Swan. Are you free to talk? It's about Cullen."

**Holy PAW going freaking psycho, Batman!**

**This is pretty much the lowest our boy is gonna hit at this point. Don't fret my little monkeys!**

**Again sorry for the delay! Your kind words and well wishes were much appreciated – Thank you!**

**Leave me love.**

**TTFN x x **


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey!**

**I am here! Apologies for the slight delay – thank you for all your well wishes once again – I appreciate them all.**

**Your feedback continues to leave me humbled and in awe. I cannot believe that this story has hit 1500 reviews already. Thank you. I read them all and try to reply to as many as I can. If I haven't reached yours please take this A/N and a huge booby shake as thanks. I'll send PAW in the mail!**

**Just to clarify as a couple of people have asked – PAW = PunkAssWard! Hope that clears that up.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 9: Mercy**

_If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite. ~ __**William Blake**_

Garrett Volture was thirteen when he broke the law for the very first time.

He was dared, by his best friend Kyle, to steal a dirty magazine that they had both been eying in fascination since it had appeared, five days before, on the top shelf of the small shop that they frequented every day as they walked home from school.

It was a glossy and glorious affair of bright reds and blues, with a picture of the most incredible woman Garrett and Kyle had ever seen emblazoned on the front cover. She (in his mind, Garrett had named her _Tina_) was lounging across a haystack - strawberry blonde hair cascading around her head - wearing tiny denim shorts and a blue and red plaid shirt that was about three sizes too small for her. As a result, _Tina's_ boobs spilled gloriously over the top of it. And, if that wasn't enough to stir the testosterone of two horny thirteen year old boys, then the fact that she was - with plump, luscious lips - sucking on an ear of corn, just about finished them both off.

The vision had, for both boys, been a well used source of masturbatory release on many occasions in those five days.

Garrett had always been tall for his age. At the age of ten he was already over five feet ten and at the age of thirteen he was half an inch shy of six feet. This fact had always been a pain in the ass for Garrett. He got called names: _'Giraffe'_ and _'Bean-Pole' _being the two most commonly used and he frequently wished and prayed that he would stop growing, just long enough for his friends to catch up so that he would no longer be referred to as the _'lanky freak'_. But, from the day that magazine appeared and _Tina_ was brought into his life, he had praised every deity he could think of for the gift of height.

The top shelf, that was such a taboo, was no match for Garrett Volture.

He and Kyle came up with the plan on how to steal _Tina_ while they were sitting in their Physics class. It was a simple enough arrangement; Kyle would distract Mr. Aziz, the shop owner, long enough for Garrett to take the magazine and place it on his book bag. They would run back to Garrett's house (as his parent's would still be at work) and the two of them would ogle over Tina and her luscious lips and boobs to their heart's delight. Yes, it was a great plan!

As discussed in detail, Kyle entered the shop first, keeping clear from the magazine racks as to avoid any immediate suspicion from Mr. Aziz. Garrett watched surreptitiously through the glass door as his friend wandered along the chip and dip aisle before sauntering into the shop as cool and as calm as he could. His heart was in his throat and weirdly, it wasn't because he knew he was about to break the law. It was because finally she, _Tina_, would be his. He felt the familiar stirrings of desire in his stomach as he walked nonchalantly towards her, gazing at her lips and boobs before swallowing audibly in anticipation.

He listened to Kyle as he chattered on at Mr. Aziz about the '_damn Science project'_ that he was working on and glanced around himself nervously. There was no one near him. There was no one around. It was now or never. He looked at the magazine, _Tina_ urging him on with her large blue eyes and, before he could stop himself, he had grabbed it, quickly rolling it as he did and had pushed it forcefully into his bag. He almost gasped in relief when he looked to see that apparently he had done it without anybody noticing. Success!

Operation '_Steal-Tina'_ was complete.

He cleared his throat – to communicate to Kyle that the egg was in the nest – and walked calmly towards the door. And that's when the shit hit the fan.

Apparently, unbeknown to the two highly sexed youths, Mr. Aziz had been more than a little aware of the duo's fixation with the top shelf of his shop and had, in his wisdom, installed a camera. He had done so just to keep an eye on them, to make sure that they didn't take innocent gazing to the level of touching or reading. He was hopelessly aware of their young age and even more aware that the dark haired boy was tall enough to reach and take whichever magazine he wanted.

As Garrett's hand had touched the cold metal of the door push, Mr. Aziz called down the aisle. "Are you going to pay for that?"

Now at this point Garrett had one of three options. One – escape with his _Tina_, run like a motherfucker and never look back, leaving Kyle to take the heat. Two – turn and look as innocent as he could and act dumb to the entire thing or three – pull it out of his bag, put _Tina_ back and hope to shit that Mr. Aziz would accept whatever apology he could come up with before he called his parents.

It took him around thirty seconds to make his mind up.

He got as far as the next street before two police officers cornered him, sweating and frantic and grasping his book bag to his chest as though it was his actual heart that was tucked between his school books. It certainly felt that way when they took it away from him.

He had never been as mortified as he had been when the police officer took him home after delivering a severely pissed Kyle at his own door. Garrett's parent's, his mother especially, were utterly astonished that their youngest and most promisingly academic son could want to look at _'filthy porn.' _Garrett had rolled his eyes at that particular comment from his mother.

He was a thirteen year old boy – of course he wanted to look at fucking boobs and filth.

He had been sent to his room after a lecture from his mother about respecting women and behaving accordingly. His father had stood at her side, nodding but silent, looking at Garrett as though he felt sorry for him. It didn't help Garrett's embarrassment that his hero-worshipped father felt that way about him.

A day later, after coming home from school Garrett discovered a brown paper bag and a note tucked under his pillow. Garrett was bemused by the note that simply read;

_Keep this between you and me, Son. Enjoy. Dad._

Enclosed in the brown paper bag was the glossy magazine with _Tina_ smiling seductively up at him. He had been euphoric.

This story had been relayed many times over the years (even on Garrett's wedding day) and was the sole reason that Kate Volture, Garrett's wife, was sitting on top of her husband, riding him like her life depended on it.

She was wearing a child's red and blue plaid shirt that almost cut off her breath, with an ear of corn tucked into the hair on her head that was an utter mess from her husband's manic hands grappling through it when she had gone down on him twenty minutes before.

Garrett held her hips tightly as she moved over him, completely enraptured by the woman that engulfed every inch of him. _Tina_ had been his fantasy until he went to college and met his wife. From the moment he saw her walking across campus with her books pressed to her chest, he knew that Kate embodied everything that he would ever want or need. She was fucking spectacular then and she was even more so as she moved above him.

And her tits? Christ al-fucking-mighty they were magnificent. They were spilling over the plaid in a way that was both teasing and hot as hell. Garrett couldn't help but palm them, hard.

Kate leaned her head back, her light blonde hair skimming Garrett's legs and rested her hands on his thighs behind her as he began to thrust. She groaned and moaned loudly in a way that Garrett knew only too well.

"Come on, Katie," Garrett panted as he drove up into her perfect heat. "Give it up. Cum for me."

She clenched her bright blue eyes shut and shook her head.

_Defiant._ Garrett grinned. _Fucking sexy._

Without taking himself out of her, Garrett grabbed Kate around the waist, sat up and flipped them over so that he was on top of her. Taking his wife's breath away, he lifted her legs onto his shoulders and began pounding into her the way that he knew she fucking loved. She screamed out immediately and gripped onto his shoulders as she came hard around him, clenching and wet, drawing his own orgasm from deep within his stomach.

He cried out for her, spent and sweating, before dropping his head into the crook of her neck.

"Jesus, Katie," he grunted into her skin while placing soft kisses across her collarbone. "You're incredible."

Kate laughed gently from underneath her husband, loving the feel of him so heavy and strong above her. She ran her hands into his black hair and kissed his temple.

"You're not so bad yourself, Cowboy," she answered, smiling into his lips as he groaned at her words, "Happy anniversary."

"You too, sweet girl," he murmured, their lips still together. He cupped her face and nuzzled her nose. "I love you."

The words, to Garrett, seemed exceedingly inadequate in explaining to his wife how he felt about her. She was everything to him and had been since he met her eighteen years before at college. They had been married for fifteen years and had one daughter, Irina, who was nine.

They had struggled for children when they first married, with Kate suffering three miscarriages. Finally, after two years of IVF and heart ache they had been successful and Irina came into their lives. Garrett never knew just how much a father could love his daughter. She was beautiful, smart and had him wrapped snugly around her little finger. He adored her.

"I love you too," Kate replied, before kissing him again.

At thirty-six, Garrett Volture could happily say that he was perfectly content with his lot.

After he and his wife had made love twice more, once in the shower and once on the kitchen floor (just because they had the house to themselves and could), they curled up together on the sofa and settled in to watch some old movies that they both loved. The phone ringing was as unexpected as it was an inconvenience. Garrett had cursed and grumbled as he unravelled himself from his wife. _This shit had better be good._

It had been Mike Newton, calling to tell him about Edward's indiscretion. Garrett had clenched his teeth and his eyes as he seriously considered all of the ways in which he could kill the little green-eyed bastard with his bare hands. Indiscretion! What the fuck was he playing at? Edward knew that his parole was coming up and he suddenly decides to assault a fellow inmate? Fucking genius, Edward!

Newton had explained about Edward's solitary stint and his eventual move to a different block that would, in Newton's eyes, keep Edward out of trouble. Garrett doubted that 100%. If the stupid prick couldn't keep his fists to himself a week before his parole officer meeting, he was damn sure he wouldn't do it just because he was on a different block. He kept these opinions to himself however, knowing that Newton would only contradict everything that Garrett said. He was a little fuck-wit that way.

"What's wrong, Sweetie?" Kate asked as Garrett crawled back against her on the sofa.

"Edward," he muttered into her hair as he closed his eyes and breathed her in.

Kate nodded in understanding. She knew very little about the inmates that Garrett dealt with but she knew about Edward and the headaches that he had given her husband since he had become his councillor. Kate didn't push Garrett any further, knowing that ultimately he would tell her anything he needed to when he was ready. He always did. She simply kissed his hair and rubbed his back in comfort.

He was almost asleep when the phone rang two hours later.

Kate tried to reach for it but he stopped her, knowing that if it was the facility they would want to speak to him directly.

"Hello?" he answered with a thick throat. _I should have unplugged the fucking thing._

"Hello, Garrett? This is Isabella Swan. Are you free to talk? It's about Cullen"

Garrett was immediately on point. _Shit, what now?_ "Um...hey, Miss Swan. Yeah, what can I do for you?"

Isabella sighed at the end of the phone, willing the tears that were threatening to fall to just stay where they were. She was angry and entirely confused about her conversation with Newton and felt a sting deep in her stomach that she couldn't identify.

"I'm not sure if you know about what happened today...?"

"Yes," Garrett informed her with a sigh. "I know what happened."

Isabella shook her head despondently down the phone. "I just don't understand why he would do that," she said incredulously while lifting and dropping her shoulders in confusion. "And _then_ to say that he doesn't want to see me anymore..."

She trailed off slowly, wishing immediately that she had chosen her words a lot more carefully. But Garrett wasn't worried about her choice of vocabulary.

"I'm sorry, Miss Swan," Garrett said with a furrowed brow. "What was that about him not wanting to see you?"

Isabella ran a hand through her hair and exhaled again. "He's told Newton that he wants to stop our sessions..."

Garrett didn't let her continue. "He's done what?" he practically bellowed down the phone, making Kate sit up in surprise.

Isabella replaced the phone closer to her ear once he had lowered his volume and repeated what Mike had told her about Cullen not wanting to do Literature anymore. As she said the words again, she noticed how they tasted utterly wrong in her mouth. _This wasn't right;_ she thought to herself, _there is something more._

Garrett clenched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. "Are you still at the facility?" he asked while looking at Kate who was still sitting on the sofa.

"Yes," Isabella answered softly as she looked back at the looming building, wondering how Cullen was doing in his solitary confinement.

"Ok, Miss Swan, I'm going to give you an address of a coffee shop where I'll meet you in about thirty minutes."

His eyes pleaded with his wife to understand. She dropped her eyes from his with a resigned smile which made his heart clench.

"I can't stay too long but I'd prefer to talk to you in person," he added quickly, trying to catch Kate's gaze.

"No problem," Isabella replied. "I really appreciate this, Garrett."

After relaying the address and replacing the phone in its cradle, Garrett scooped Kate up into his arms and kissed her passionately.

"I'm sorry, Katie, but I have to do this," he muttered against her cheek as she clung to his neck. "Tell me you understand, baby?"

After a brief moment she nodded slowly. "I understand, Garrett. Go and do what you need to." She sat back and cupped his face. "Just remember that you have your wife at home waiting for you, so don't be long."

"I won't," Garrett answered with a determined shake of his head. "I promise."

=PoF=

Isabella sat with her full fat latte, drumming her fingers on the light wooden table waiting for Garrett who was already ten minutes late. The door suddenly swung open, not thirty seconds later, allowing a slightly breathless Garrett in. He immediately saw Isabella and waved before making his way over to her.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised as he pulled out the chair opposite her. He considered telling her a lie about why he was late instead of the truth that his wife was a seduction master but instead he motioned quickly for the waitress and requested a black coffee.

Isabella thought Garrett a handsome man when he wore his suit to work but he cut an equally fine figure in dark jeans and a deep red polo shirt. He looked relaxed but there was a hint of tension around the corners of his dark brown eyes and his mouth.

"So," he sighed as he turned back to her. "Explain to me what the hell Edward said to Newton."

Isabella shook her head and shrugged. "I only know what he told me and that was that Cullen no longer wanted to do Literature. No reasons, no explanations. I have no idea what has caused this or what the hell happened between our last session and..."

She stopped abruptly, dropping her eyes to the table between them. _Shit!_

Garrett frowned, knowing instantly that he was missing something. "Miss Swan?" he asked, lowering his chin and voice simultaneously.

"Isabella, please," she said with a soft smile.

Garrett nodded. "Isabella," he repeated. "You were saying something about your last session?" He gestured for her to continue with a small wave of his hand.

Isabella exhaled and sat back in her seat and fingered the rim of her large cup. The waitress brought Garrett's coffee over and Isabella used the twenty seconds it took to reign herself in. She was suddenly feeling all sorts of anxious and uncomfortable in her skin as she felt Garrett's stare, waiting for her to give her an answer. The sensation was irritating and made Isabella feel out of control. She rubbed her hands across her hair and sighed, willing the emotions to fuck off already.

"The session was going well," she started after taking a sip from her latte. "He was communicative; he knew the work so well, giving insightful answers. He's so intelligent, he...he was calm, playful almost and then..."

Garrett looked at the petite brunette in front of him, realising that she looked altogether too small and fragile and suddenly felt her confusion. She had been working hard with Edward and had, for the first time, been able to start chipping away at the huge fucking wall that surrounded Edward and his feelings. The word playful surprised him. He had never seen Edward 'playful' before and he wondered fleetingly what she had done to garner that kind of reaction from him.

"Then I got a phone call," Isabella finished.

Garrett cocked an eyebrow in intrigue. "A phone call," he repeated slowly, making sure that he heard her right.

Isabella nodded and gave him a wry smile. _I know, right._

"Do you mind me asking who the caller was?"

"No," she answered immediately. "It was my friend Jamie asking me whether I was attending his sister's birthday party."

Garrett furrowed his brow further and leaned his forearms on the edge of the table. The fact that he said nothing, told Isabella that he was as perplexed as she was with Cullen's behaviour. She continued by telling him what he had done and said, leaving out the description of the hollow feeling that had appeared inside her once he had left the room.

"From what I was told he was fine until his 'altercation' with Quil," Garrett mused aloud as he gazed at the wall behind Isabella, trying to fathom why Edward had behaved in such a way.

Edward had never been the same since the day that he had collapsed and passed out. It was terrifying for Garrett to have seen such a strong man become so weak in a matter of seconds. He had, on the occasions that he and Edward had met since, tried to coax an explanation from him; something to justify why he had turned the colour of wheat and blacked out for a day, but it was all fruitless. He had secretly hoped that Edward would open up to Isabella but that too now looked futile. He was at a loss.

He rubbed his hands down his face and sighed.

"Newton said that he won't get his parole now," Isabella murmured from behind the rim of her cup. "Is that true?"

Garrett's expression made Isabella's heart lurch. He lifted his shoulders in an _I-don't-know_ gesture before shaking his head.

"Charlotte, his parole officer, is pretty cool. She knows what Edward can be like but she doesn't excuse it. She doesn't stand for bullshit which this clearly is. His parole board meeting won't be for another six weeks after meeting with her initially but..." He shook his head again. "I have _no_ idea how he is going to make this up if he isn't willing to attend your lessons."

He slapped his hands down loudly on the wood in frustration, making the spoons and cups on their table shake and rattle, drawing nosey looks from the two old ladies seated at the neighbouring table.

"I don't either," Isabella conceded, ignoring the busy bodies to her right. "I have to admit, I was a little pissed that he didn't talk to me about whatever was bothering him or even speak to you." She raised her eyebrows towards the ceiling and nodded towards Garrett who smiled tightly in agreement.

They both sat, pondering the best course of action to take when Garrett spoke quietly. "There is something more to this," he said, keeping his stare fixed on his hands that encircled his cup of now nearly cold coffee.

Isabella leaned forward quickly. "I know what you mean," she said in a stage whisper. "I know he can be an A1 prick but this is just...it's not him." Isabella knew that her knowledge of what Cullen was was limited to around five hours of interaction but still, it all felt _off._

"You're right. It isn't," Garrett agreed. "He hasn't been right since..." His eyes flickered up to Isabella's and he immediately bit the inside of his mouth. _Fuck!_

"Since what?" Isabella asked curiously. She straight away felt uneasy by the look in Garrett's eye that was equalled by her interest that had peaked massively.

Garrett cleared his throat and ran the pad of his thumb along his bottom lip. "It...um, he was..." Garrett stuttered, wondering what the hell he was meant to say to her about what had happened when Edward had collapsed.

He really wasn't meant to say anything – inmate confidentiality – but as he looked at the inquisitive girl in front of him as she worried her own lip, he couldn't help but feel that telling her could only aid the situation.

"There was an incident," he began, "The day that you met with him about the extra sessions."

Isabella stayed quiet waiting for him to continue.

"You have to understand, Isabella, that this information cannot be shared." He placed the side of his palm against the edge of the table with every word, driving the point home as best as he could.

She nodded fervently, "Of course. I understand."

"Well, that day," Garrett took a deep breath and held it for two seconds, "He passed out after you left."

Isabella's right hand was suddenly covering her mouth.

"He mumbled a ton of incoherent garbage and hit the floor," Garrett continued. "The doctor had to sedate him after he had diagnosed a huge panic attack. He was out for eighteen hours straight. Stupid ass gave me a fucking heart attack."

Garrett smiled but the speed of it made it clear that it wasn't genuine.

"Was he ok?" Isabella asked in a small voice.

"He said he was but..." Garrett tugged at the neck of his shirt and grunted in annoyance. "He won't open up to me. Don't get me wrong, Edward's never been the most loquacious of people but he's so closed off about the whole thing."

He finally met Isabella's gaze. "I honestly thought that he might have opened up to you about it."

A very unladylike snort erupted from Isabella making Garrett's eyes widen in surprise and her cheeks burn instantly. She straightened her blouse and shook her head of the mortified feeling that bubbled in her stomach. "Why the hell would you think that?"

"I don't know," Garrett answered honestly. "I just thought, what with you not standing for his shit he might...you know...respect you enough to tell you."

"The only thing that my not standing for his BS opens up is his temper," Isabella said with an embarrassed smile. "I admit he_ has_ opened up minutely in terms of his work but anything else is a lost cause."

Garrett rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers and closed his eyes. He was desperate for a solution but short of forcing Edward to take Isabella's lessons there was no way around it. He dropped his hands, defeated, onto the table and exhaled down his nose.

"There's no way to change this is there?" Isabella asked gently. Garrett simply shook his head. "I could always make him," she continued with a small smile.

Garrett laughed lightly and raised his eyebrows in agreement. "Yeah," he answered. "That would be just peachy."

Isabella laughed but instantly found that she was alone with it. Garrett was looking at her strangely, as though she had just landed in her seat from the ceiling and was covered in blue fish scales.

"What?" she asked nervously with a hand through her hair, checking for stray sticking up bits.

"Isabella," he said firmly as he sat forward in his seat, his eyes alight with excitement. "Have you ever heard Edward use the term Peaches?"

Isabella frowned at him in confusion. "Peaches?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow. Garrett nodded solemnly, telling her that he was entirely serious.

Isabella scratched at her forehead as she thought back to her sessions with Cullen and whether she had heard him say Peaches or not. She shook her head despondently.

"I can't recall it," she answered in a frustrated tone. She truly couldn't remember. _Maybe because you were too busy staring at his eyes, jaw, chest, arms…_

"I'm sorry," she muttered while cursing herself silently.

"It's ok," Garrett answered as he waved off her apology. "It was worth a shot. It probably means nothing." He knew that wasn't at all true but didn't want Isabella mentioning it to anyone else. Not that he thought she would but he had to be sure.

Isabella took in Garrett's defeated posture and was at once determined to shake some sense into Cullen and his punk ass attitude.

"Look, Garrett," she said pointedly. "Is there any way we can speak to Cullen before Charlotte comes in next week?"

"I have my meeting with him tomorrow as normal," he answered as he rubbed the back of his neck with his palm.

"How would you feel if I came in with you?" she asked tentatively. "I know it's a confidential meeting," she stopped him with her palms up, "But I could come in, say my piece and leave."

"What would you say?" Garrett asked. His tone suggested that he thought her idea pointless but Isabella ignored it as her brain began working.

"I'll think of something," she assured him. "Just…let me try? I'm sure I can change his mind."

The blush in her cheeks and the twinkle in her large doe eyes made Garrett believe her completely.

=PoF=

After the first twenty four hours, Cullen decided that he didn't mind solitary as much as he used to. He lay on his cot - where he had been since he was thrown into the hovel of a cell by two assholes with batons and mace - thinking about his Peaches and what she was doing, while trying his damnedest to keep the name_ Jamie_ as far away as humanly fucking possible from his imaginings.

He thought back to when he had seen her at her car just before he had handed Tyler his ass on a plate. He smiled at the memory. It would be the last time the motherfucker thought or looked at Peaches that way.

He closed his eyes and saw her behind his eyelids, hair blowing in the wind, lightened by the sun. She was so beautiful. Her body was curvaceous, not skinny and bony like the bitches back in Brooklyn. She had such fan-fucking-tastic tits, that he had a hard time keeping his eyes away from them when they were together, while simultaneously imagining the colour of her nipples.

Her round hips ached to be grabbed and gripped, while her ass deserved its own fucking National Anthem. Seriously, that shit was fucking poetic. The curve of her ass lead down to legs that would look awesome wrapped around either his neck _or_ waist.

He had also decided, during his solitary, that he wasn't choosy when it came to his sexual fantasies about Peaches: on all fours, missionary, her on top, sideways, back ways he really didn't give a shit and neither did his dick that was once again hard as a fucking rock for her.

He removed one of his hands from behind his head and rubbed is palm slowly but firmly along his cock that was pressing against the inside of his overalls. It had been a few days since he had last jerked off, what with his head behind entirely up his ass, and he at once felt desperate for release.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He imagined being in a room, alone with Peaches. It would be their room; their study room but there would be no guards, no security cameras.

She would be talking about _The Merchant of Venice_ or some other bullshit that he would have a hard time concentrating on, all because of the way her lips moved and puckered when she talked. Cullen wasn't big on kissing – he did it – but it wasn't a necessity to him when he was with a woman (his cock was all they would beg for anyway.)

Peaches however had a mouth that just fucking ached to be kissed. Fuck, it demanded to be nibbled, licked and sucked too but he had to start slowly.

He would catch her unawares, slowly stroking her bare thigh with the outside of his index finger. (Peaches always wore short skirts in his fantasies.) She would pretend that she hadn't noticed but the change in her voice as she talked would tell him that she felt the electricity as it passed from him to her and it would tell him that she ached for him in the same ways.

Cullen pushed his hand into his overalls and gasped as his hand wrapped around his cock. He was rock hard and weeping just at the thought of touching her leg. _Fuck, this won't take long._

With that thought at the forefront of his mind, he and Peaches were now both naked – save for her high heels, which he couldn't help but moan about as he imagined the feeling of them nipping into his ass as he drove into her – with her seated on the table and him between her legs.

He wouldn't be gentle with her. He would fuck her. He would fuck her so hard. She would forget the name Jamie and all it stood for. He would make her scream, cry and breathless and she would be so wet that he would slide in and out of her with no resistance at all. _Fuck, it would be heaven._

"Fuck," he grunted as his fist moved faster along himself, edging closer to his release.

He imagined biting her shoulder and the feeling of her nails in his back as he thrust harder still. She would cry out his name and throw her head back so that he could lick and graze his teeth across her soft skin before delving his nose into her long, brown hair. _Sweet fruit…_

"Peaches," he groaned as he came hard into his hand, sweating and panting and even more desperate to have her. He lay on his back, trying to gain his breath before grabbing a tissue and cleaning himself up.

Just as it happened every other time that he imagined fucking Peaches, he immediately felt fucking disgusted with him self. She deserved better than him. She deserved better than being fucked like a slut on a wooden table in a prison study room – not that he didn't think for one minute, that she wouldn't look fucking spectacular while they did it.

He was nowhere near what she deserved. He couldn't even imagine being gentle with her when she was so clearly small and fragile. He was such a fucking dick.

He dropped himself back onto his cot and rubbed his hands down his face in frustration. Nearly two and a half days had passed since he had last seen her, spoken to her, been in her presence and she was still the most prevalent thing on his mind.

She haunted him, as she had for fifteen years only now she was real. He could see her so clearly in his head whereas before she had simply been a faceless body that kept him warm and peaceful at night. She was a fucking curse that now kept him hard and awake but, even so, he still couldn't bring himself to hate her.

She had tried with him, even after he had been a punk ass with her. She had encouraged him and that was a rare thing in places such as Arthur Kill. Inmates, Cullen knew, were all too often utterly _discouraged_ to do anything.

He wondered how she reacted when Newton had told her about his not wanting to see her anymore. Had she been mad, happy, surprised? He had no clue. The only thing he did know was that since Tuesday's lesson he had missed her like fucking crazy.

=PoF=

Cullen entered the councillor's room the following day with a headache and tired eyes. Garrett immediately noticed the dark circles under them and the sallow look of his usually clear skin. He seemed to have aged so much in a single week.

Cullen slumped into his seat, his vacant eyes scanning the table for his smokes. He looked up at Garrett who patted the pockets of his suit jacket and pants before he began rifling through his briefcase.

"Shit," he muttered as he sat back up in his seat with a guilty expression on his face. "I…I forgot the cigarettes, Edward. I'm so sorry."

Cullen stared at him incredulously. "Well, fucking perfect," he snarled.

"I'm sorry," Garrett repeated with apologetic open palms.

"Whatever," Cullen responded, while crossing his arms over his chest and pouting like a petulant child.

He was in no sort of mood to deal with Garrett today, especially without the support of fucking nicotine. Cullen knew that Garrett would have been told about Tyler and the fact that he was no longer seeing Miss Swan. He was sure to give him both barrels and Cullen was just not. In. The. Mood.

"Ok," Garrett said with a sigh as he pressed play on the silver recorder as he did at the beginning of all their sessions. And like all of their sessions, he repeated Cullen's full name and inmate number. It was so goddamn monotonous.

"How are you, Edward?"

Cullen eyed him cautiously and smirked scornfully. "I beg your pardon?"

"How are you?" Garrett repeated without missing a beat, his voice even and his stare determined.

_Ok, not the words I was expecting…_

Cullen looked around himself as though he was looking for a Punk'd camera or for Ashton Kutcher to come strolling through the door. He slowly looked back at Garrett who was still sitting, staring back at him, with no hint of joking in his eyes.

Cullen choked out a sardonic laugh and shook his head. "I'm fucking perfect, G, fucking perfect." He didn't know what kind of game his councillor was playing but he was willing to play along for the sake of a quiet life.

"That's great, Edward," Garrett responded levelly as he wrote a note in Cullen's file.

"Is it?"

Garrett looked up. "I think so," he answered. "It's always good to know that you're doing well."

Cullen cocked an eyebrow, feeling the irritation start to weave its way up the centre of his chest. "Mmhm," he retorted through tight lips.

"So, anything new to report?"

Cullen slammed his hands on the desk between them, making the guard flinch for his baton.

Garrett however didn't move a muscle and simply let the left side of his mouth raise in a knowing smirk. _Tantrum all you want…_

"Cut the fucking shit, Garrett," Cullen growled. "I know that you know what went down this week, so don't sit there looking all fucking blasé when you're just dying to tear my fucking head off!"

Garrett reacted in seconds.

"You're right," he snapped back, shifting forward in his seat so quickly that it took Cullen by surprise. "I do want to rip your fucking head off. I have never met a more inconsiderate, selfish, self absorbed prick in all my life; and I work in _prisons_!"

Cullen's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as he let Garrett's words sink into his exhausted brain.

"You _knew_ that Charlotte was coming next week and yet you still put another inmate in the clinic and then to add insult to serious fucking injury you _quit_ Miss Swan's lessons. Are you fucking stupid?"

Cullen would ordinarily snap back at Garrett about respect and speaking to him appropriately but he was too fucking dumbstruck to respond. Garrett had never spoken to him in that way and he had to admit, it was fairly fucking intimidating.

"I'm not stupid," Cullen mumbled as he sat back in his seat, resting his hands on his thighs.

"Oh, I beg to differ!"

"I don't give a shit!"

"Well, you should!"

Cullen was fuming. His anger coursed through his body like lightning though water and made his vision blurry.

"You have no fucking idea what you're talking about," he seethed.

"Is that so?" Garrett asked with a tilt of his head. "Well, Mr Cullen please feel free to enlighten me." He sat back in his seat and got comfortable as he waited for Edward's response.

Cullen stared at him cautiously. He was either very, very clever or very, very stupid and it infuriated Cullen that he didn't know which it was.

"Tyler had it coming," he answered vaguely. "He said shit he shouldn't. End of."

"And Isabella?"

Cullen froze at the sound of her name. He felt his hands sweat and his heart race and his right leg started bouncing in earnest.

"Tell me, Edward," Garrett continued. "Why have you stopped doing Isabella's sessions?"

_There was the name again…_

Cullen shook his head and grunted in response. Words had completely left him. He simply stared at his councillor and he stared right back. Neither man was for backing down but Garrett had the overwhelming feeling that he had the upper hand.

The way that Edward had reacted to Isabella's name was astonishing. It seemed to have so much power over him. His whole face changed. It was only slight, but knowing Edward the way that he did, Garrett noticed it instantly. His pupils dilated and he licked his lips as though he was unexpectedly very thirsty.

He didn't have time to ponder why any further, when the door behind him opened suddenly and he watched with intrigue as Edward's eyes widen even further as Isabella walked into the room.

_Holy mother of fuck…_

Cullen's heart was just about ready to burst from his chest as Peaches strolled into the room looking – _as usual _– like sex incarnate. Her hair was up in a tight twist that left her long slender neck on show. She wore a short sleeved red blouse and black pants that came to her ankles.

_Even _that_ part of her body looked good enough to fucking eat._

Cullen gaped at her as she sauntered in until she reached Garrett's side. Once there she crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at him as though she too wanted to rip his head off. He would be happy for her to do it. He _was _a fucking idiot. Garrett was right.

How he ever thought that he could just quit cold turkey from his Peaches, he had no idea. He was insane. _She_ was his drug now and he needed regular fixes of that shit, no matter how brief or chaste. She was under his skin and he liked it.

"So," Isabella said softly. She looked at Cullen and was shocked at his bedraggled appearance. He looked so tired and completely lost. She couldn't deny that she just wanted to hug him better and try and ease whatever was bothering him in some way.

"So," Cullen countered with a cocked eyebrow and glanced between the two of them. "What is this; an intervention?"

"Something like that," Isabella answered with a quick nod.

"Great," Cullen smiled at her sarcastically.

Isabella ignored it and continued with why she was there. "I wanted to peak to you myself. You know, I have manners like that."

Cullen smirked at her tone even though his chest tightened at her accusatory words. She didn't pause long for breath.

"I'd like to know why you have decided that you no longer want to take my Literature lessons."

Cullen instantly evaded her stare, feeling her eyes as they travelled down his body and around his face. They left pimpled flesh in their wake and he was once again flooded with the need to take her.

"Cullen?" she asked, dropping her chin to her chest.

"What?" he answered softer than he had intended. His eyes met hers and he swallowed.

"Why do you want to stop our sessions? Have I done something wrong?"

Cullen exhaled loudly down his nose and shook his head. He fidgeted in his seat and once again cursed Garrett for forgetting his smokes. _Fucker._

He picked at the edge of the table with his dirty thumb nail and chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. Their stares burned into him and the sound of their patient waiting thundered in his ears.

"Can we just move on from this shit!" he cried as he grappled a hand through his hair.

Isabella noticed that his tone wasn't aggressive but more pleading and felt her stomach lurch for him. She reached into the pocket on the ass of her pants and pulled out a twenty deck of Marlboro. She threw them onto the table so that they skidded towards Cullen.

His eyes snapped from the smokes to Peaches and back again. _How the fuck…?_

She smiled gently and shrugged. "I figured you'd need one."

He grabbed at the packet, knocking one out quickly and taking a light from the guard. He waited until after he had inhaled and then blown the smoke out twice before he muttered a quick, "Thanks," in Peaches direction.

"You're welcome," she answered. "So, now will you tell me why you want to stop the sessions?"

He looked at her a beat longer than he really wanted but found that his eyes seemed to be glued to her and the earnest and concerned glint in her eyes. She really cared…

He shrugged and took a huge drag. "It's just not worth it," he answered through a cloud of smoke. Isabella watched it, enraptured by the way it spread around him, like a Grecian God upon his cloud. He was beautiful enough to be a God (maybe Zeus with his thunder and lightning bolts?) It was just a shame he acted like one 24/7.

"Excuse me?" Isabella said as she leaned over with her knuckles on the table.

_Don't look at her tits, don't look at her tits…_

"I said; it isn't worth it." Cullen repeated his words slowly as though talking to a child.

"You mean you're not worth it," Isabella countered.

"What?" Cullen snapped.

"You meant to say that you think that _you_ are not worth doing these lessons with me. That's what you meant, wasn't it?"

"No," Cullen answered instantly, even though he could feel his body burning under her gaze.

"Yes, you did," she argued.

Before he could respond she continued ardently, "You think that you are not worthy of taking these lessons because you are so used to people telling you that you are worthless and that you shouldn't do anything because you would never amount to much."

"What the fuck do…?"

"But you _are _worth it, Cullen," Isabella interrupted quickly. Her eyes locked with his, fire and heat and so full of passion it took his breath away.

"You should do these lessons. And you shouldn't do it just because it'll help with your parole, you should do it for _you_; to prove to certain fuckers in here that you are better than what they think."

Cullen's cock hardened to an almost unbearable level as the word fuckers slipped from her perfect lips. _Jesus Christ what I would do to you, woman_… He may have groaned deep in his chest.

Isabella was referring to Newton, of course. His words about the inmates had stayed with her since she had left his office the previous day. He was such a short sighted sonofabitch that he couldn't see past the end of his ugly ass nose.

"Is that right?" Cullen asked, his voice barely audible.

Isabella nodded. "Yes."

She moved slightly so that her hand rested over his. The heat and the charge that shot through both of them were exquisite and made two pairs of lungs squeeze and twist.

Isabella glanced down at their hands together and then returned her gaze to Cullen's.

"_Consider this: That in the course of justice none of us Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy, And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy__."_

Cullen couldn't help but smile at the words that she uttered. Ordinarily he would have called anyone who quoted Shakespeare ver batim; a pretentious prick. But the way that the words fell from her: full of urgency and truth, he couldn't help but look at her in awe.

He knew what she was saying as the words of Portia from the Merchant of Venice danced around him. He was worthy of mercy, of being accepted as a person and not just an asshole even though he woked that angle best. He could be different. He could change and she had faith in him.

He had never felt so full of life.

She slowly took her hand from his and stood to her full height. Keeping her eyes on Cullen she spoke to Garrett. "I'll speak to you soon, Garrett."

"Thank you, Isabella," he replied, utterly dumbstruck by what had just occurred. He made a mental note to revise his Shakespeare knowledge.

Isabella turned and headed towards the door that was opened by the guard on duty. As she reached it Cullen stood from his seat.

"Miss Swan," he called loudly.

She turned to look at him, allowing her eyes to take his full form in. "Yes, Cullen?"

Cullen smirked at her playful tone. "See you Monday."

**Holy sexy PAW jerking off in his cell, Batman!**

**Dammit, what I wouldn't give…grrrrrrrr!**

**Sorry for not posting on Friday but with being ill last week I've been playing catch up. I hope you can forgive me.**

**Normal progamming should resume next week: same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!**

**Leave me love.**

**TTFN xxx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey people so a little late but here nonetheless!**

**Thanks for the amazing reviews for the last chapter – they are incredible and I try to answer them all. I cannot believe I've hit so many so quick. I am as always humbled so cheers.**

**Just a quick rec for you. I know some people can be funny about slash but you have to give **_**Mergers & Acquisitions**_** a try! It is Jasper and Edward and has some of the hottest Lemons I have ever read while also being incredibly written by Touchstone67.**

**Go and have a read – you won't be sorry! It's on my faves.**

**Also, **_**A Pound of Flesh**_** has been nominated for **_**Best New Story**_** at the ShimmerAwards. I would love your vote of if not, simply go and vote for all your other faves, I'm sure they'd appreciate it too. http:(/)shimmerawards(dot)webs(dot)com(/)vote(dot)htm**

**Chapter 10: Transparent**

_A lie has speed, but truth has endurance_ ~ **Edgar J. Mohn**

Alice Brandon had always been an intelligent individual as well as being disturbingly intuitive.

From a very early age her mother and father had noticed facets of her personality that were 'different' from other children that Alice socialised with. She was mature on an almost unnatural level; telling her father at the age of four that she wanted to be a teacher so that she could, 'make a difference.'

Alice had flown through all her schools with the ease of any child prodigy: acing all exams and contests while leading numerous clubs and any social event she could become involved in. She was one of life's organisers and revelled in the planning process that only a job in teaching could satisfy after college.

She had been one of, if not _the_, most favoured teachers at St Mary's Private School of Austin, Texas and the day that she had left, she had been inundated with presents, flowers and well wishes from parents, students and colleagues alike. She was certainly going to be missed.

She was devastated about leaving but the truth was she would have followed Jasper Whitlock to Outer Mongolia had he asked her and New York wasn't really _that_ far away (or so she told herself). Jasper was her everything; her other half, her best friend and she knew unequivocally that they would be together forever. Her intuition told her so and she trusted that above anything and everything else in her life.

The couple had met under circumstances that many would consider normal; although the speed at which they had consummated the relationship (two hours later) and the swiftness at which they declared their love to each other (two days later) would, to some be considered hasty at best. But neither Jasper nor Alice cared. It was what they both wanted and didn't give a shit about anybody else's opinion.

Alice had, one summer afternoon, been in her local coffee shop in the centre of London, drinking her favourite hot chocolate and reading Hemmingway, when a blonde haired _Adonis_ had walked through the doors. He was tall, slender and wore a suit that hugged his body in places that sent Alice's heart racing.

Every head had turned; male and female and everyone thought one thing – _beautiful._

Alice had stared at the beautiful man as he wandered to the counter and ordered a cappuccino in the sexiest Texan drawl she had ever heard. The young girl behind the counter had blushed seven shades of red and dropped a cup _and_ spoon as she hurriedly put his order together.

Before she realised or could even question what was happening, Alice was on her feet walking towards him. Never had she approached a man in such a way. Sure, she was confident when it came to the opposite sex but that was always with an alcoholic drink in her hand that had been preceded by several others.

She waited for him to collect his drink and pay before touching his elbow gently to get his attention. He turned around and their eyes met.

And they had been together ever since.

Alice had followed Jasper from London to Washington State to Texas to New York and she had never been happier, especially now that there was a large Princess cut diamond residing on a very important finger of her left hand. Not that she wouldn't have been happy without it, but the ring symbolised everything that she had with her fiancé: love, trust, friendship and wholeness.

Jasper had been waiting to propose for some time, planning an exceedingly romantic night out with dinner and a midnight walk but, like many things in his and Alice's relationship, it had happened far more organically. Over breakfast in their kitchen on a lazy Sunday morning of all times and places was where it had happened. Alice had made French toast with orange juice, freshly squeezed, just the way that Jasper loved.

He had looked at the woman before him as she gave him his breakfast and once again reflected on what a lucky fucker he really was. Alice was gorgeous, sensitive, honest and caring. He had never known a woman like her; and he'd had his fair share. She was everything he would or could ever need and he knew at that exact instant that the moment was perfect. So, dressed in only his plaid boxer shorts and with a smile as wide as the Hoover Dam, Jasper Whitlock had gotten down on one knee and asked Alice Brandon to be his wife, two and a half years to the date that they had first met.

The pair didn't lift from the kitchen floor for the next hour.

If Alice had been honest, she had had a feeling that it would happen. Something told her in the way that he had smiled at her and kissed her good morning that something big was afoot. Her intuition was once again right on the money.

She was going to be Jasper Whitlock's wife and she couldn't wait.

The excitement bubbled through her body and ran down her arm as she knocked firmly on Isabella's apartment door. She adored Isabella. She was a great friend and they had shared many drunken, crazy nights together over the years. Distance had kept them physically apart but they were still firm friends, calling each other regularly to catch up and gossip. Alice hadn't told Isabella about the proposal, wanting to wait for them to be face to face when she did.

Isabella opened the door and clapped her hands loudly while bouncing on the balls of her feet. Alice flung herself at her and they swayed like a metronome from side to side as they both squealed and laughed through their reunion.

"God it's so good to see you," Isabella smiled into her friend's shoulder.

"I know," Alice replied, tightening her hold. "It's been too fucking long, Swanface!"

Isabella laughed and stood back from her taking in her appearance. Fabulously styled as always, Alice looked the same, a little sharper around the edges but her eyes and her crazy hair reaffirmed that Alice Brandon was still the same girl she bunked with during college.

"You look great," Isabella offered as she closed the door and gestured for Alice to enter the apartment. But Alice didn't move, instead she stood stock still, looking at her friend in a way that made the hairs on Isabella's body stand up all at once.

"What?" Isabella asked with wide eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Something's different about you," Alice muttered quietly as she raised an eyebrow towards her friend.

Isabella looked normal enough. Her hair was longer and she had definitely lost weight but there was a glow to her that Alice couldn't ignore. Isabella had always been beautiful, devastatingly so, but this was something more.

This, Alice decided, was something inside of Isabella.

"What's his name?" she said quickly with a determined stare, knowing deep in her stomach that she was on the right track.

Isabella's mouth popped open and closed so many times she started to look like a goldfish.

"Wh-what?" she stammered with a shake of her head, "Who?"

"You're different," Alice repeated while narrowing her eyes, "And you look the same on the outside so it must be something inside. So, what gives?"

She cocked her hip and placed her hand on it. Isabella had to concede that, even after all these years, it was still intimidating as hell.

"You're fucking crazy," Isabella retorted with a small snort. "Move your ass."

Alice smiled gently at Isabella's index finger as it pointed towards the couch and slowly obeyed. "Just making an observation," she replied with her palms up in defence.

"Mmhm," Isabella hummed sceptically as she wandered towards the kitchen. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Coffee is fine, thank you."

"Still milky and sweet?"

"Oh yeah," Alice removed her small cream jacket and laid it along the back of the couch. "Your apartment is gorgeous, Bells," she said as she began wandering around the living room, taking in the art on the walls and the tasteful pallet of dark browns, bright blues and deep wood that Isabella had chosen.

"Thanks," Isabella called from the kitchen. "I feel it's more like home these days." She appeared a moment later with two large mugs and handed one to Alice who followed her to the couch where they both sat with a sigh.

"It's so great to have you closer again, Al," Isabella beamed as she sipped from her mug.

"I know," Alice answered while squeezing her shoulders together.

"Of all the places to get his promotion, huh?"

"Well, not exactly," Alice said with a wide smile. "Peter, Jasper's brother, runs the office here and he really wanted family around so it was a little..."

"Nepotistic?" Isabella laughed.

"Yeah, something like that!" Alice laughed with her. "But it is so great to be in New York again. I didn't realise how much I missed it."

"It missed you too, Girl," Isabella smiled as she rubbed Alice's arm.

They spent the next hour reminiscing and laughing as though it was simply days and not years, that the two of them had been together in the same room. There was calmness and a feeling of freedom that always settled around the two women when they were together, allowing them to discuss outlandish subjects that ranged from politics to the female orgasm.

"So, tell me about the prison," Alice said as Isabella handed her another coffee. She noticed the look of excitement that washed over her brown eyes but decided to leave that to be mulled over later.

"It's..." Isabella paused and ran her hands through her hair. She knew that there was no danger with Alice. Alice would accept all that Isabella did with no lecture about safety or making the wrong decision and Isabella at once felt relaxed. "It's like nothing I ever imagined."

Alice grinned, "How so? Tell me."

Isabella then picked up her hair and twisted it at her neck before letting it fall down her shoulders and back.

"The students are amazing. At first I was so scared and uncertain but now...I couldn't imagine doing anything else." Isabella stared towards the large window behind Alice that looked out over Soho and smiled gently to herself.

Alice observed her for a moment, realising that she had never seen Isabella look as alive as she did at that moment.

"That's great, Bells," she said honestly.

Isabella nodded. "And I'm doing one-on-one sessions too that are…interesting to say the least."

Alice smiled as the excitement once again surrounded the chocolate of Isabella's eyes. Her cheeks flushed slightly and her top teeth worried her bottom lip. It was fantastic to see her friend look so animate and Alice at once decided that she had to find out what the cause was.

Isabella continued telling Alice about her classes – _mentioning no names_ – explaining the hair raising moments that she'd had at the start and the awesome thank-fuck-they-finally-understand-what-I'm-talking-about moments too.

"You look happy, Bells," Alice stated sincerely after a silent moment. "And damn if it's not a good look on you."

Isabella flushed and shrugged. "It's a good feeling to finally be doing something that just…" She glanced at Alice, "Feels right."

"Papa Swan would be proud, Isabella," Alice said softly with a wink.

Alice knew all about Isabella's desire to adhere to the promise that she had made to her father all those years ago. After losing her own mother to leukaemia at the age of fifteen, Alice understood and respected Isabella's need to follow through on her word as she herself was searching everyday to make sure that she followed her own mother's wish for her daughter to 'be happy.'

"I think so," Isabella agreed as she ran her index finger around the rim of her mug. "I'm helping, Alice and it feels _really_ good."

"Awesome," Alice replied, knocking her mug to Isabella's.

It was at that moment that Isabella finally noticed the fucking gorgeous sparkling diamond that rested against Alice's pale skin. She almost dropped her mug and spat out her coffee as she tried to grab at her friend's fingers to get a closer look.

"Holy Christ!" she exclaimed as she eyed the precious stone in awe. She looked back up at Alice to see her blushing and looking so in love it would have been bordering on nauseating if Isabella hadn't been so shocked.

"Oh. My. _God_. ALICE!" Isabella pulled her friend towards her and squeezed the life out of her as they squealed some more. It was safe to say that Alice always brought out Isabella's more girly side. "When, where, how...WHAT?"

Alice laughed and twirled the diamond around her finger before explaining Jasper's proposal and the hour on the kitchen floor afterwards. They were planning on a Christmas wedding and Isabella teared up when she was asked to be a bridesmaid. She accepted of course. She'd never been a bridesmaid before.

"I am so happy for you," Isabella said as she let her finger tip ghost over the diamond once more. It was so, so beautiful.

"Thank you. He's just..." she shrugged to excuse her lack of words to describe the man that meant so much to her. "He's my Jasper."

"Well, I can't wait to finally meet him," Isabella said as she pushed her hair back. She had seen pictures of Jasper and spoken to him on the phone but they had never actually met.

"He'll be at the restaurant tonight and um, I hope you don't mind, but we invited Peter too."

"Of course I don't mind," Isabella smiled with a shake of her head.

"I knew you wouldn't," Alice conceded. "He's just gotten divorced and Jasper's determined to get him '_back out there._'" She rolled her eyes as she used her fingers to indicate quotation marks. "He's a great guy, really nice and very handsome."

It took Isabella a moment to recognise the tone in Alice's voice. "Oh no, no, no," she exclaimed with her hands up. "I don't need a man at the moment."

"If you say so," Alice answered with a wiggle of her eyebrows. "How long has it been, Bells, seriously?"

Isabella flushed as the image of her reoccurring dream flashed across her vision. _Hands, fingers, tongues..._

"That's beside the point, Alice," she retorted as she lifted from the sofa, trying her hardest to ignore her friend's eyes on the back of her head and the deep throb that had started between her legs as it always did when she let her mind wander to her mystery dream caller.

The dreams had, over the past few nights, become a lot more vivid and seemed to last for hours. The previous afternoon, when she had gotten home after her meeting with Garrett and Cullen, she had fallen asleep on the couch and had had the most intense dream yet. He was all over her, covering her body with his own but still not touching her in the places she was desperate for him. He hovered, rubbed and caressed, licked, nibbled and drove her fucking insane but he never entered her..._anywhere_.

She pleaded with him, grabbing at his strong shoulders, pulling him down onto her but he resisted every time. He didn't even kiss her. It was an erotic, seduction that left her breathless, wet and using her vibrator more than she ever had. She'd even stopped putting it back in her drawer when she was finished with it, just in case her libido decided to rear up again as it was want to do when she thought of _him._

_He has so much power over me..._

Alice left shortly after the brief sex discussion to go and get herself ready for the night ahead. They were all meeting in a small French Bistro in Soho before going for drinks at another bar. It had been a while since Isabella had been out around the city and she was excited – even more so with Alice with her. She showered and picked out anude coloured, silk mini dress that she teamed with a small leather jacket. She put the top half of her hair up so that it was away from her face and let the rest fall to her shoulders. She admired herself in the full length mirror of her bedroom and smiled. Alice had taught her well and tonight was just what she needed; a celebration of sorts.

As she left her apartment and made her way down the street Isabella couldn't help but let her mind wander to Cullen and the epic victory that she had had with him. He had changed his mind and decided that he _did_ want to attend her classes and she couldn't deny the feeling of euphoria that came with that knowledge. Garrett had not been convinced that her plan would work, especially when she mentioned that he should not give him any cigarettes when they started the session. It had been a gamble but it had paid off. Isabella had wanted Cullen to understand that she saw more in him than the Mike Newton's of the world and that she had confidence in him.

The _Portia _quote had come out of nowhere but it had had the desired effect and she couldn't be happier.

The one thing that she hadn't stopped thinking about during the twenty-four hours since she had left Cullen was the feeling that had coursed through her when their hands had met on the table between them. It had taken all of her strength to hide the intense feeling that shot up her arm like a bullet when their flesh met. It was heat – white heat – that made her skin burn almost to the point of blistering. Her heart rate increased and her breath had caught in her throat. Isabella had never experienced anything like it. And, as she had looked into Cullen's beautiful green eyes, she recognised that he hadn't either.

She couldn't explain why she had touched him in the first place. She knew that it was a dangerous thing to do what with Garrett and a guard in the room but it felt like the right thing to do. Cullen needed comforting; convincing and touching him would help do that. Touching him was..._nice._

In fact it was more than nice, the throb that had appeared between her legs and the ache in her stomach would attest to that but Isabella knew that no matter what her body's reaction _was_ to Cullen she had to keep her head on straight. She was his tutor and he was her student and it would be like that always.

_Well_, she mused without stopping for mental breath_, at least until he is released._

Her pace faltered slightly as that thought penetrated her mind and then sank deep into her chest.

_Stupid, Isabella, stupid and very fucking dangerous..._

She wasn't looking where she was going as she silently chastised herself when she suddenly walked smack into a huge body that was standing in the middle of the street. Isabella regained her balance and looked up to see a huge man with short black hair and dark skin, like a Native American, that was littered with tattoos on the arms that held her so that she didn't fall. He was built like a goddamn barn and had the whitest teeth she had ever seen.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled as she side stepped him with a blush. He was very good looking and the black t-shirt that he wore clung to every muscle in his chest.

"No problem, Beautiful," came the reply from the stranger who pulled a cigarette out of his leather jacket pocket and lit it with a flick of his lighter. He smiled around the filter tip and winked at her as she tucked her hair behind her ears. Isabella nodded in response to the compliment and carried on down the street towards _Manger_.

Alice was leaning on the bar of the bistro and waved erratically at Isabella as she entered. She was standing next to a tall, blonde haired guy who was wearing dark blue jeans and a cream button down shirt. He also had deep blue eyes that seemed to sparkle. He grinned widely at her as she approached.

"At last we meet, Isabella," he said as he offered a hand to her. "I'm Jasper."

Isabella smiled at Alice and then back at Jasper as she gave him her hand. She gasped in surprise as he bent to kiss the back of it.

"A pleasure," he drawled making Isabella and Alice swoon.

"It certainly is," Isabella replied laughing as Alice's warning elbow met her left rib. "Congratulations on your engagement."

Jasper smiled and winked at Alice. "Well, the sooner she's officially mine, the sooner I can relax," he said as he sipped from his glass. "What would you like to drink?"

"Martini, please," Isabella answered before turning slightly to Alice and smirking before mouthing an '_Oh my God!_'

He was dashing, handsome, polite and was exceedingly sexy. Isabella was ecstatic for her friend and couldn't help but smile at her in excitement.

"Sorry I'm late. Traffic was fucking terrible and the cab driver was an ass and..."

Isabella turned to where the voice of complaint was coming from to see a head of dark blonde hair that was erratic and almost dirty looking. Isabella thought instantly of someone else whose hair was not entirely dissimilar in style but a lot more effortless and...sexy?

The man stood to his full height, towering over Isabella and Alice, who was still standing at her side, and smiled gently at them both before turning his attention to Jasper who slapped him on the back.

"Pete, just in time," Jasper called before handing him a bottle of beer and Isabella her Martini.

"Bells, this is Peter, Jasper's brother," Alice offered with her hand between the two of them. "Pete, this is my best friend, Isabella."

Isabella looked at Peter and smiled. "Hi," she said as she held out her hand, "Nice to meet you."

Peter stooped and took her hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of it just like his brother had.

"Likewise I'm sure," he replied with a dashing smile.

He was very attractive. He had broad shoulders that were covered in a black short sleeved button down, that was open at the neck, showing a black string that hung down under it. His arms were tanned and strong looking which matched his face that was angular and masculine. He looked like Jasper but seemed to be rougher around the edges. The stubble on his chin and cheeks took the boyish looks away that Jasper seemed to work so easily.

Isabella took in his appearance as conspicuously as she could while sipping her Martini. He had all the traits that she usually went for in terms of looks and if he was as nice as his manners he would be golden, but there was something that just didn't sit right with her. It was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that had become stronger when Peter had smiled at her with the left side of his mouth. It was so familiar it was unnerving.

"Shall we get a table?" Alice asked bringing Isabella back to the room.

"Yeah, we should. Jamie text before," she exhaled in annoyance, _fucking Victoria,_ "He can't make it and Leah is working."

"On a Saturday?" Alice asked incredulously.

"Mmhm," Isabella answered with a roll of her eyes.

They took their seats, with Jasper and Peter both holding out the girls chairs, and began perusing the menus.

"So what do you do, Isabella?" Peter asked quietly after he had caught her eye.

She was exceedingly beautiful and the dress she was wearing was so tasteful and sexy he could barely contain his enjoyment while he looked at her. It was the first time since his ex-wife that he had felt a sexual attraction of such magnitude.

"I'm a teacher," she answered with a small nod, "English Literature."

"Like Alice," he offered to which Isabella nodded again.

"We met in college," Alice added from across the table.

"That's great," Peter said with a smile. "So, what school do you teach at?"

"Well," Isabella said before laughing lightly. "I'm actually teaching at a prison."

Peter looked at her with raised eyebrows. _Maybe not as small and fragile as she looks..._

"Wow," he said as he sat back in his seat. "That must take some patience."

"That it does," Isabella replied with a wide smile. _Patience and cigarettes... _"I really enjoy it," she added quickly.

"You're brave," Jasper interjected. Isabella turned to him expecting to see a look of condescension but was surprised to see an expression of intrigue. There was nothing judgemental in his tone either and Isabella quietly cursed herself for jumping to the wrong conclusion.

"Thank you," she replied, dipping her head to hide her blush. "But, without being a martyr, I simply see it as doing something good; giving something back."

The three people around the table watched Isabella as she shrugged gently before continuing, "I know they are criminals but they were people once and…I try and get as much of that person out of them as I can."

Isabella's mind once again travelled back to Arthur Kill and to one person in particular, wondering whether he was thinking about Monday afternoon as she was. Alice smiled at the look on her friend's face before glancing back at her menu.

The meal was excellent and the company was even better. Peter, Isabella found, was a very funny guy. He asked questions and listened attentively to the answers that she gave but it was easy for Peter to do so. She was as smart as she was beautiful and she seemed to glow when she spoke about something that she loved, which Peter learned were her friends, her family and her job respectively. He was entranced by her and decided, as he finished his dessert, that he would offer her his phone number.

Peter Whitlock definitely wanted to see Isabella again.

=PoF=

Monday morning for Edward Cullen couldn't come fast enough and he was sure to take out all his latent energy out on the punching bag that Alec held in front of him. He was finally out of solitary and had been moved to a new cell three blocks down from his original. He wasn't exactly sure why he had been moved but he wasn't about to argue. As long as his ass had a bed and a john he really couldn't have given a shit.

"Come on, Cullen," Alec called from around the red leather of the bag. "Hit the fucking thing and stop tickling it!"

"That's what she said," Cullen grunted with a smile before he began slamming his fists into it. The release felt fantastic and his muscles flexed and pulled and screamed under the pressure.

"Fuck me, Cullen did you just make a lewd joke?" Alec smirked as Cullen began hitting harder and harder so that the sweat dripped from the tips of his hair. "That's gotta be a first. Did you get laid since the last time I saw you?"

"Fuck off!" Cullen panted again, unable to hide the small smile on his lips as he punched faster.

"I'll fuck off when I see some damn energy and effort! Now come on!"

With a roar, Cullen began pummelling and driving him self into the punch bag with a mixture of short, hard jabs and long punches that stretched his entire arm. It was easy to conjure up an image to make it happen. In days gone by it would change from Aro's ugly ass face, to his father, to Mike Newton, but today it was all about Jamie; even though he had no idea what the motherfucker looked like. He imagined a pretty ass boy with his hands on his Peaches and the fury exploded into his fists. _At least it was better that Tyler's fucking face,_ he thought to himself.

After fifty press-ups, as many sit-ups and some rope work, Cullen was officially fucked and desperate for a shower. He was seeing Peaches in less than two hours and he had to admit; he was looking forward to it. He was still reeling from the way that she had sauntered into his session with Garrett to lay the law down in her own way: determined, passionate and sexy as all hell.

She'd definitely struck a chord with him, of that there was no doubt. The way she seemed to know exactly what to say to him did funny things to his chest and when he had touched his hand…_fuck me_…it was like being touched by a damn lightning bolt.

Garrett had, weirdly, remained very quiet for the rest of the session, once Peaches had left the room, which had unsettled Cullen somewhat; that prick was never quiet for no reason and he at once considered that Garrett knew more about him and Peaches than he originally thought. He was a nosey, tenacious bastard after all. But Cullen let it go and simply let Garrett think whatever he wanted about what had happened in the ten minutes that Isabella Swan was in the room. He'd mentioned that he would speak to Newton about his're_-enrolment_.' Cullen would have paid cold hard cash to see that shit. He could only imagine that Newton had a damn conniption. _Prick_.

"So, do I get a gold star and a big ass smiley face today, Alec?" he asked as he rubbed is bare chest with his towel before taking a huge gulp of his water.

Alec rolled his eyes and flipped him the bird making Cullen laugh out loud. It was as unexpected for him as it was for Alec. It was a rarity to see Cullen smile let alone laugh – out loud. Alec looked at him for a moment, noticing that he seemed a lot more relaxed. The tension in his jaw and shoulders was still there but it had lessened and Alec knew that it had very little to do with the workout he'd just had.

"You did well," Alec said finally as he clicked his pen and signed Cullen's form. "Maybe you can lay off beating other inmates to a pulp for a while, huh?"

This time it was Cullen who rolled his eyes and flipped the finger before he was taken to the showers by the guard on duty. As was normal when Cullen thought about any aspect of Peaches, he was hard by the time he entered the shower room. He simply thanked every fucker he ever knew that he was alone, otherwise there would have been plenty to fucking explain, had his hard cock been witnessed by another inmate. He washed quickly, determined to ignore the ache in his balls and was back in his cell, watching the clock within a half hour.

He had been allowed to the prison library on Sunday afternoon. Newton hadn't hesitated, knowing Cullen's penchant for books. Cullen had immediately found a copy of _The Merchant of Venice_ and some analytical studies on the text which he proceeded to read from cover to cover through the night. He had read the play before and knew the characters and the storyline but once he was finished he knew he was ready for anything that his Peaches threw at him. He smiled gently at the thought.

He was sitting at the table of their usual room when she entered – on time – looking stunning. Her hair was down today and a soft wave had appeared in the sections that framed her face. As much as he loved her hair, he loved seeing her face more and he was at once annoyed that it was partially covered. He crossed his arms over his chest to stop the urge he had to suddenly push it behind her ears out of the way.

"Good afternoon," she said with a slow smile as she placed her bag on the table.

"Good afternoon, Miss Swan. How are you today?"

Isabella looked up at him in surprise and halted her movement. She looked quickly at the guard and then back at Cullen. "Um…I'm well, and yourself?"

"Oh, I'm great," he answered with a smirk. _Now that you're here…_

Isabella eyed him carefully. He was sitting as he normally did, all cool, arrogant and oozing sex but he seemed different in some way; mischievous maybe? The white t-shirt that was facility standard, hugged his body and tightened on the tops of his biceps. The ink that Isabella had noticed from their very first meeting was a lot more visible today but she was still unable to make out what exactly it was. All she knew was that tattoos on biceps were fast becoming her most favourite thing.

"So, today we start our Shakespeare play," she said as she lifted all her resources from her bag and placed them in order on the table between them. Cullen thought her OCD and perfection traits were at the very least fucking adorable and at the very most irritating as shit.

"Goodie," he replied as he leaned his forearms onto the edge of the table.

Isabella couldn't help but smile and shake her head at him. She reached back into her bag and pulled out a pack of Marlboro which she threw at his chest.

"Shut up," she said playfully at his look of surprise as the smokes landed on the table.

He smirked and pulled one out. He placed it between his lips and nodded. "Yes Ma'am."

Once the cigarette was lit, Isabella once again moved her chair around to Cullen's side of the table. He was a little more prepared for it this time but it didn't stop the pulses of desire that shot through his body as she crossed her legs. _She had fucking great legs…_

Isabella wasn't as worried about Cullen's reaction to her close proximity having done it before, she _was_ however concerned about her own reactions to it. She liked being closer to him, but not in the ways that she liked being closer to her other students. This was different and it petrified and excited her in waves that were uncontrollable and confusing as hell. He smelled good too. A citrus smell that was entirely masculine wafted aimlessly between the plumes of smoke that he blew out of his mouth and down his nose.

"_The Merchant of Venice_," she said as she placed he play in front of him. "Tell me what you know." She rested her cheek in her palm and looked at him. A small smile crossed his mouth around his cigarette and the green in his eyes seemed to lighten as their gazes met. She knew that it was pointless to pretend like he knew shit all about the damn thing. Hell, he probably knew more about it than she did.

"Set in Italy, it's classed as a comedy but many believe it was a tragedy due to the treatment of the main character Shylock," he offered as he picked up the book and thumbed through it carefully.

"Who's Shylock?" Isabella asked softly.

Cullen ignored the irritation that whispered across his back at her words, knowing that she wasn't trying to be patronising she was trying to help him.

"Shylock is the loan shark who just happens to be a Jew in a predominantly Christian Shakespearean society. Unlucky fucker."

Isabella laughed lightly at his wording. "I guess so. I'm interested though," she continued. _Of course you are, Peaches._ "Why do you say it's a tragedy? What is tragic about Shylock?"

"He's classed as a villain because of his religion…"

"He's classed as a villain because of his demands for payment of a loan," Isabella interrupted.

"Bullshit," Cullen continued firmly with an index finger pressed into the centre of the book. "The demands he makes are fair."

Isabella raised her eyebrows at his statement. "Really? So, his demanding a pound of flesh to pay off a monetary debt, is fair?"

Cullen looked at her and exhaled down his nose. She had no idea how relevant her words were to him and the life he lived. He moved towards her slightly as he put his smoke out in the ashtray between them.

"If you can't pay a debt, you shouldn't give your word," he muttered. He let his eyes roam over her face slowly, cursing the piece of hair that hid her left cheek. "His call for a pound of flesh may sound macabre but the way he is reviled because of his religion is even more so. He is vilified because of his faith, his demand simply reinforces it. His demand is expected because of the prejudice of the narrow-minded motherfuckers around him."

His fingers twitched on his thigh, desperate to move her hair away from her face so that he could see all of her. He imagined briefly what it would feel like between his fingers.

Isabella stared at the man before her, utterly blown away by what he had just said. She knew only too well what paying a debt was like. Her pound of flesh was what led her to be sitting with him in the first place. And, as fucking dangerous and insane as it was, she suddenly realised that she couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

"You know a lot about debt?" she whispered, unable to make her voice work properly as her stomach tightened and her heart started racing at her realisation

He nodded. "I do," he answered. "Do you?"

She nodded. He knew she did. He knew that her passion and determination came from her father and one way or another he was part of the reason that she was here with him. Cullen allowed himself to think about how_ he_ was also the reason that she was sitting with him. He had saved her.

"I know what it's like to give your word to someone," Isabella said softly after a moment. Her eyes rested on the play that was opened at Shylock's most infamous speech that, unbeknown to her, Cullen knew almost word for word. "I know what it's like to pay that word off because you have no other choice but to see it through because you love that person so much it would be a tragedy if you didn't."

And that's when it happened.

Cullen couldn't help it.

It was almost as if his body was working of its own accord, drawn to her, desperate for her touch. She just looked so fucking sad and he at once wanted to make her feel better. His hand moved slowly towards her hair before he tucked it gently behind her ear. Isabella could barely breathe as she felt his fingertips dance at the back of her ear at the line of her jaw. The entire movement must have lasted all of ten seconds but it felt, to both of them, like it lasted hours.

The guard by the door cleared his throat gently, secretly enraptured by the couple before him and completely jealous of the attraction and sexual tension that surrounded them like a goddamn bubble.

Isabella instantly sat back in her seat as the sound permeated said bubble and rubbed her hand down the piece of skin that was burning from Cullen's touch. Cullen was equally stunned and rubbed his fingertips down his thigh to ease the heat that resided there. _It feels the same_; _it's the same heat…_

"I'm…shit," he mumbled as he grappled for another cigarette. "I shouldn't have…fuck…"

He continued to mutter around his smoke as he lit it and inhaled three times in quick succession. Isabella watched him, completely bowled over by his obvious embarrassment over his actions.

"You just…you looked upset, ya know and…fuck it…I shouldn't…"

"Cullen," she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. He stopped his grumblings immediately and his eyes shot to hers, cigarette dangling from his mouth. "It's alright," she murmured with a small smile. "I appreciated it. Thank you."

In fact Isabella more than appreciated it. She had liked it – more than she should have. His touch…the way that her body set on fire…the dark look in his eyes…all of it just felt _so_ right and so goddamn _good._

Cullen swallowed and blinked. _I need you…_

"Yeah," he offered. "Yeah, whatever…cool…"

Isabella released his shoulder after giving it a reassuring squeeze and pulled the book closer to her self. "Shall we continue?"

"Fuck yeah," Cullen groaned as he rubbed his palms down his face. "Bring on that Shakespeare shit, Peaches, I'm all kinds of fucking ready for it."

Isabella paused. Her heart rate increased and her brow furrowed in recognition. Slowly, as not to cause him any more alarm she looked up at Cullen. She smiled gently and shrugged her left shoulder.

"Peaches?" she asked with a dip of her chin. "Where does that come from?"

Cullen's stomach dropped into the soles of his shoes but he hid it like a champ. "It's um…" he fingered the cigarette packet and exhaled a laugh. "I dunno…why does it offend you?"

Isabella watched his nervous movements carefully. "No, it doesn't offend me," she replied honestly. "I was just curious as to why you used that word in particular."

He slammed back in his seat, pulling on his smoke. "I can just call you Miss Swan if you prefer?" he said as nonchalantly as he could.

Isabella was silent for a few seconds as she pondered his question. It may have been her imagination but there seemed to be so much more behind it.

"No," she replied finally. "You can call me Peaches."

Cullen smirked and ran a hand through his erratic hair.

"On one condition," Isabella continued. Cullen looked up at her, the smirk growing across the right side of his face. _He is so sexy…_

"What's the condition?" he asked with a playful glint in his beautiful eyes.

Isabella took a deep breath and folded her arms across her chest. "You can call me Peaches if…"

"If what?"

"…if _I_ can call _you_ Edward."

Cullen stared at her, praying to God that the hard on that had appeared in zero six seconds at the sound of her saying his name, was not visible through his overalls.

"I…um…that's a…I'm not sure…only Garrett calls me that," he stammered as he threw his cigarette into the ashtray before grabbing another.

"I know," Isabella said sincerely. She wanted to use his first name. She had since she had met him. She truly believed that it would help them connect better. More personal and less formal. She also had to admot to herself that she found his name incredibly sexy – not unlike the rest of him.

"I'm not…I mean…fuck's sake," Cullen continued as both hands found his hair.

He would do anything for her. He was resigned to the fact that he would let her call him 'Prick' for the rest of his days but his first name…? That was a stretch, not simply because the sound of her saying it made him want to rip off her clothes, spread her across the table and fuck the living shit out of her. His cock twitched once again just in case the message hadn't reached his brain yet.

"Ok, ok," Isabella conceded suddenly concerned over the tension that was enveloping him. "I get it. It's ok."

He was obviously, for some reason, struggling with the idea of it. Maybe he didn't want them to be less formal, but surely his touching her hair contradicted that?

"Cullen it'll be. It's fine," she said softly, her hand once again touching him. This time it was his right shoulder blade that felt…fucking spectacular under her small hand. It was large and solid and moved under his skin as he sat up to look at her.

"I…I know it might be weird…but everyone calls me Cullen and I…"

"It's ok," Isabella repeated. "Hey look, it could be worse I could have wanted to call you Eddie!"

Cullen froze for a moment before he barked out a laugh that was matched by Isabella's snort and giggle.

"Ah man," Cullen said though his laughter and palms that were covering his mouth. "That shit I just wrong."

Isabella nodded. "That it is," she agreed. He was breathtaking when he laughed. His whole face lit up and his eyes crinkled in such a way that they almost disappeared. He was captivating.

After they had both caught their breath and had regained some sort of composure they carried on with analysing the text. Isabella had put together some discussion pints that elicited heated debates between the two of them which they both enjoyed more than they both should have. It was twenty-five minutes after their allocated time when Isabella noticed the clock.

"Shit," she cursed catching Cullen by surprise. "It's late."

Cullen glanced at the clock and smiled. He hadn't even noticed that they had run over. "Yeah," he replied casually. "Time flies when you're having fun, right?"

Isabella blushed when she caught the wink that he sent her way. Cullen felt braver when it came to being more open with her. He wanted her to see that he could be what she needed, wanted and even of he was still stuck in the shit hole of Arthur Kill, he would use their time together wisely. She saw his potential and had told him that, she had put herself out there and it was now his turn to reciprocate.

He watched as she put all her things away quickly. "You um…you got a heavy date or something?" he asked as he rubbed his index finger across his eyebrow.

Isabella blanched slightly "Oh no," she answered quickly with a vigorous shake of her head. "I…I don't…no…I don't have a date." She cursed her self for stumbling over her own words. "I'm…I…I'm single…I…" She shut her mouth immediately, having no clue why the fuck she felt it necessary to divulge that little piece of information. She closed her eyes briefly before heading towards the door.

Cullen could barely hide the elation in his voice at what he had just heard. "Hey, Miss Swan," he called with a wide smile. "I…I enjoyed today."

Isabella's smile mirrored his. "Me too," she answered. "Oh and Cullen," she said as she turned back to him as the guard opened the door. "The name's Peaches."

**Holy hair touchy makes my hoohah happy, Batman!**

**Wowzers, these two are just busting my balls right now! *PAW looks at Jaxon incredulously while muttering something about, 'Yeah, no fucking shit.'***

**Thank you again for all your comments – follow me on Twitter under **_**sophiejax**_** for updates, teasers etc**

**OooOOo and Isabella's dress from her meal with Alice is on my profile – go run and see!**

**Leave me love and your thoughts!**

**TTFN xxx**


	12. Chapter 12

**Greetings darling ones!**

**Well, this chapter was a bitch and a half to do…*mops brow***

**It's a little angsty in parts which I apologise for but I hope you understand that it's necessary. **

**Your reviews are epic and I apologise whole heartedly for not replying this week. I am fail, I know but with coming to the end of the school year everything is on fast forward. **

**I will endeavour to reply to as many as I can.**

**Much love to all of you.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 11: Best Behaviour**

_There is no pillow so soft as a clear conscience_ **French Proverb**

Isabella walked into her apartment feeling as though she was stepping on clouds. Her face hurt from the smile that had resided there since she had vacated Arthur Kill and she had found herself humming a tune that she didn't recognise but found it suited her mood perfectly.

She felt...different, looser, less tense and clearer headed than she had in days. The session had gone so well with Cullen. He was like a different person. She felt more connected to him than she ever had done and she felt ecstatic because of it. She had reached out to him a he had met her half way with no anger, no arrogance and had, much to Isabella's shock, dropped the armour that he gripped to himself unashamedly.

Isabella threw her bag, her shoes and keys haphazardly around the apartment which was completely out of character for her and almost skipped to the kitchen where she opened the fridge and pulled out a well chilled bottle of California white wine.

"Perfect," she muttered with a smile as she grabbed for a glass and proceeded to pull the cork free. She sipped it slowly once it was poured and hummed in approval as the cold sweetness slipped down her throat. It had been a good day.

"Peaches," she whispered to herself with a shake of her head as she took another taste and smiled into the glass as she remembered the look on his face as she left.

After placing a glazed lamb chop under the grill for her dinner, she wandered over to her answer machine that was flashing and pressed play.

"_First message; Isabella, it's your mother. If you could give me a call, please, just so I know that you are..."_

Isabella pressed delete without thinking twice. She didn't need her mother's patronizing tone ruining her good mood. She rolled her eyes and drank from her glass.

"_Second message; Hey Bells, its Alice. Hope you had a good day. Saturday was great...you and Peter seemed to get on well...he was asking about you, mmhm, anyway, I'll see you some time during the week. Give me a call. Toodles."_

Isabella laughed and shook her head.

It was true. She and Peter _had_ gotten on well. They had talked all night about random things to do with each other. She had learned that he was the CEO of the leading telecommunications company in the United States and he loved his job. He also loved his brother too and waxed lyrical about how happy he was that Jasper would be working with him.

He was newly divorced, as Isabella knew from what Alice had told her, but they diverted from that particular conversation as best as they could. The smile on his face had grown huge however when he talked about his son, Henry, who was four. He looked great when he smiled.

"_Third message; Hey...um, Isabella, it's Peter..."_

Isabella stopped slicing the potato in her hand and stared at the machine in shock.

"_...I hope you're well? I, um...well, Alice gave me your number I hope that was ok? Um...I was wondering...I know its late notice, but I was wondering if you would..."_

There was a momentary pause with a lot of shuffling and muffled words. Isabella was sure she heard him curse under his breath. She found herself smiling.

"_...yeah, so, I'm an idiot who can't speak to a beautiful woman's goddamn answer machine...however I can't quit now...Isabella, I was wondering if you would like to meet for a drink tonight or...whenever or...you're probably busy...yeah, so, shit...you have my card. Give me a call. Bye."_

Isabella laughed lightly as the disconnected tone rang from the machine.

She continued to cut the potato in her hand slowly, her eyes flickering back to the machine at three second intervals. It had obviously taken a lot for him to call – that was obvious from his stuttering and cursing, which she had to admit was adorable as hell.

She placed her knife down on the board and wiped her hands slowly on the towel at her side. She was suddenly at odds with herself and she wasn't exactly sure why. Peter was a really nice guy. He was funny, attentive and he was definitely easy on the eye. Alice had mentioned that he had asked about her and they had seemed to connect well while they were at dinner.

Isabella bit her lip as she walked over to her bag and pulled out her wallet that contained the card that Peter had given to her at the end of the night. She had accepted it with a blush before he had kissed her hand goodbye and she had, truthfully, not thought about it since. But as she stood there, with the card in her hand and the phone at the back of her, Isabella began to consider what would happen if she took Peter up on his offer.

It had been a long time since she had been on a date with anyone. Her last date was when she got back to New York from London: a son of one of her mother's friends. He was nice enough and they went on four dates that Isabella had enjoyed. There had even been some heavy petting that Isabella knew _he_ had enjoyed immensely. She hadn't slept with him however. She liked him but not that much. As much as Leah tried to convince her, she was not about to use the guy just to '_get her rocks off._'

She tapped the card against her knuckle and bit her lip as she glanced back at the phone. Maybe it was too late to call him? Maybe he had plans now?

_Maybe you're a pussy?_

Isabella ran her hands through her hair and sighed. He made the move to call. The least she could do was call him back. She picked up the phone and walked over to the couch where she sat down cross legged and once again paused.

"Get a grip," she muttered to herself. "He's just a guy."

_Just not___**the**_ guy…_

She frowned to herself as that very strange thought swept her brain and began dialling the number from the card.

It rang three times before he picked up. "Hello, Peter Whitlock speaking."

"Um…hey, Peter, it's me, it's…it's Isabella." She clenched her eyes shut and smacked her forehead with the ball of her hand as she stuttered over her words.

Peter at once sat up in his leather desk chair and ran a hand through his short blonde hair.

_Fuck, she called…_

"Hi," he said lamely, rolling his eyes at himself. "I mean its good to hear from you."

He loosened his tie even more and unbuttoned his top shirt button. It had been a long time since he had gotten so excited about a woman calling him.

Even though the divorce had only been finalised in the last month, he and his wife had been living separate lives for at least eighteen before that, during which time he had been with one woman who he had used primarily for sex. She was attractive and discreet and it worked well for both of them. It was a shitty thing to do, Peter knew, but she had known the score. He was always straight with her. He had been in the middle of a divorce. He wasn't ready for anything more at that point.

Was he ready now? He knew he definitely wouldn't use Isabella in that way. There was something different about her.

"Yeah," Isabella replied. "Well, I thought I'd better return your call after you left me that message on my machine." She tried to hide the smile in her voice but failed miserably.

Peter smiled back but cringed as he did. "Yeah, about that," he began as he rubbed his chin. "I have to tell you right off the bat; I cannot talk to answer machines for shit. I really and truly suck at it. It's a family curse. Ask Jasper."

Isabella laughed. "I'll make sure to ask him next time I see him. And really, Peter, it wasn't _that_ bad." She paused. "Well, no maybe it _was_ that bad."

Peter laughed back and tried to ignore the headiness that he felt at the sound of her saying his name. "I apologise profusely," he offered. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

Isabella bit her lip and narrowed her eyes as the words suddenly became stuck in her throat.

"Um…I don't know," she answered as she fingered the couch cushion. "Maybe we could…go for that drink you were talking about?"

Peter clenched his teeth and fisted the air gently. "That sounds good, Isabella," he replied with a grin. "When are you free? Just name a time and a place and I'll see what I can do."

"You mentioned tonight," Isabella murmured. "But if it's too late for you…"

"No, no, tonight is fine," Peter interrupted her quickly. _Tonight is perfect…_ "I finish about six, so shall we say seven?"

"Seven sounds great," Isabella agreed with a nod, even though she knew that he couldn't see her.

They organised a place to meet, said their goodbyes and hung up.

After eating her dinner faster than normal and having a shower where she shaved everywhere that needed it, Isabella was placing her money, keys and lip gloss into her clutch bag when there was a knock on the door. She frowned slightly at the sound before glancing through the peep hole.

"Well fuck, he _is_ alive," she muttered sarcastically as she opened the door to Jamie who was leaning casually against the door jamb.

"Give me a break, Bells, I wa-…" He stopped quickly when he looked at her outfit.

_Jesus she looks good…_

"You look great," he offered, looking her up and down. "You got a date or something?"

"Yeah, I do," she answered quickly before leaving the door and turning back into the apartment to finish packing her clutch bag.

Jamie followed her in slowly. "You…You have a date?" he asked carefully as he shut the door.

"I do," she retorted without hesitation.

"With who?"

The words came out slightly sharper than Jamie intended but shit, he was just so surprised. Not that he should be because Isabella was fucking beautiful but damn, it had been a while since there was a guy on the scene (other than him of course.)

_Jealousy is a disgusting emotion, James…_

_Fuck you, Mom…_

"With Peter," Isabella replied quickly being intentionally vague.

"Who's Peter?"

"Jasper's brother."

"Jasper has a brother?"

"Yeah, he's a really nice guy too. Of course _you_ would have known that had _you_ come to dinner on Saturday."

_And now the real reason she's so pissed…_

"I am sorry about that, Bells," Jamie said earnestly. "But I had promised Victoria that I'd take her…"

"You know what Jay," Isabella snapped, not even interested in hearing his excuses. "I don't care what you promised Victoria. I get it that you're back together and I'm…" She exhaled. "No, I'm not going to lie and say I'm happy for you because I'm not, but seriously, to bail on Alice like that…" She pointed at him with her index finger. "You're lucky I have a dress on, if not I would kick your ass right now."

Jamie nodded and looked sheepishly down at his feet. "I know, Bells. I called her to apologise and she was fine honestly."

"That's because she's too nice to say otherwise," she retorted with a glare that made him wince.

He'd promised himself that he wouldn't do this again; abandon his friends when Vicky was on the scene but it was so hard when she was so persuasive and…naked.

_I'm a prick…_

"Look, I'm running late," Isabella said sharply as she headed towards the door, pushing past Jamie with her shoulder.

"Yeah sure, Bells, sorry," he mumbled as he followed her out into the hallway and watched her lock up. "Where are you meeting? Can I walk you?"

Isabella looked at him as though he had grown an extra head. "I don't think I need a chaperone, Jamie, its 2010 not 1910!"

Jamie held his hands up in front of his chest. "Ok, ok, I was just asking. I worry you know."

"Yeah, I know," Isabella muttered, trying her hardest to stay mad at him even though he was looking at her with large eyes and a slight pout. _Fucking cheat…_

They left the apartment and made their way onto the street where Jamie proceeded to walk with Isabella, even though she had told him not too. She kept her mouth shut however, not wanting to get herself worked up before meeting Peter. It was too warm as it was without her losing her temper with her stupid, unthinking, over-protective friend.

"So, what are the intentions of this…?"

"Peter," Isabella finished for him with a roll of her eyes and a huff.

"Yeah Peter. I mean, what does he do?"

"He works for the same company as Jasper. He's actually the CEO."

Jamie whistled and smirked at the daggers that Isabella shot him from the corner of her eye. Isabella knew that he was being deliberately facetious.

"Sounds good, Bells," he added as they crossed the street. "So, how old is he?"

"Thirty-four."

"Older guy, huh? He must have baggage."

Isabella ignored him and simply tightened her grip on her clutch bag.

"So, is he married?"

Isabella stopped as she stepped onto the sidewalk and span around to face the man at her side.

"What the fuck, Jamie?" she snarled as she slapped her palms to her thighs.

Jamie looked around himself feigning ignorance and shrugged. "What?"

"What is this all about?" She pointed her newly painted index finger nail into his chest. "And don't tell me it's because you worry about me or because you care about me because - _just recently_ - you haven't given two shits about anyone but yourself!"

"Bells," he muttered as he took a step towards her. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?"

"No, of course not."

"So, when did you last speak to Leah?" Isabella crossed her arms over her chest.

Jamie rolled his eyes and exhaled quickly. It had been a week since he had spoken to his sister.

"Do you even know how things are going with me and work at the moment?" She placed her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow.

"Isabella, I've had stuff going on too," he replied, losing his temper slightly. He hated that she could be so fucking self righteous.

"What? Victoria?" Isabella snapped.

"Yeah," he bit back quickly. "So fucking what?"

The venom in his voice surprised Isabella but she didn't back down. She was too full of every emotion she could think of to calm down and approach the situation maturely. Jamie was simply sick of having to defend his relationship with Victoria. She made him feel good and he had loved her at one point. Whether he could again remained to be seen but he was willing to try.

"You know what, Isabella?" Jamie said sardonically before turning away from her. "Forget it ok? Enjoy your date." He waved two his hand dismissively behind him and dropped his head.

Isabella watched as he walked the way they had just come from before disappearing around the corner. She at once felt a pang of guilt and sadness. It had been a long time since she and Jamie had had cross words but she knew that since Victoria had been back on the scene it was more a case of when not if.

She sighed, cursed quietly to herself and carried on towards _Piccolo's_.

Peter was leaning against the bar of Piccolo's, gnawing on the inside of his thumb cuticle. He was so pissed with himself for being nervous. He _had_ been on dates before.

_Yeah, fifteen years ago, Buddy…_

There was nothing to be worried about. He was a good looking guy and he earned a fucking fortune. He was a great catch – or so Jasper had told him when Peter had called him for some moral support before meeting with Isabella. He took a large gulp from his bottle of beer and glanced once more at his watch.

"I'm sorry I'm late."

He nearly dropped his beer on the floor as Isabella's voice drifted over him.

"Hey!" He smiled widely as he turned to her.

She looked fucking gorgeous in a short sleeved, black top and grey, silk shorts. His eyes wandered down her legs that were finished off in a pair of heels that just begged to be worshipped.

Peter Whitlock fucking loved heels.

"You look incredible," he croaked and blinked quickly as his face began to burn.

Isabella smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Thank you. You look great too."

That was an understatement. He looked extremely sexy in dark wash, vintage jeans and a white open neck shirt. Isabella looked impressed when she noticed the dark brown shoes on his feet. His hair was once again messy without looking teased and was finished with a pair of Police shades that rested on his head. He was, this time, clean shaven and Isabella agreed with herself that it was definitely a good look on him. His eyes were also still as piercing as she remembered.

"What can I get you to drink?" he asked as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

"Um…Martini, thank you."

He smiled and turned back to the bar to order their drinks. While his back was turned, Isabella quickly pulled out her cell phone and sent a quick text that read: **J, I'm sorry. I know you have stuff on too. Thank you for caring. Bells. X.**

She hated any kinds of tension between the two of them and she prayed that her words were enough. Jamie rarely lost his temper and she hoped that there wasn't something bad that was going on between him and his...girlfriend.

_If she hurts him again I'll kill her..._

Isabella and Peter decided that they would sit in the yard at the back of the bar so that they could enjoy the last of the day's heat. Peter considered putting his hand on the small of her back but didn't, deciding almost immediately that it was too soon for such a bold move, even for him.

The asphalt smelled of the sun's rays and the seats that they chose were pleasantly warm against their clothes.

Isabella was taking a sip of her Martini when Peter began talking. "Does that make up for the car crash of a message that I left on your machine?" He nodded towards the drink.

Isabella laughed and sat back. "It definitely wins you back some cool points."

Peter smiled wider and mopped his brow in mock relief making Isabella laugh.

"Cool points," he repeated with a shake of his head. "I'm not sure I've _ever_ had _cool points_."

"First time for everything," Isabella remarked quickly.

Peter liked her wit immensely. She had a fire about her that was inspiring. He would have imagined her, if she were not a teacher, to have been a litigator who would each lowly defence lawyers like himself for breakfast. She was fierce and sassy and it excited Peter more than he cared to admit.

The fact that she was a teacher surprised him. She was clearly a woman of spirit and a classroom seemed too enclosed a job for someone such as her. Granted, he had only known her for a few hours but Peter Whitlock prided himself on having instincts about people. That's why he was so fucking good at his job and had become the youngest CEO in _WCS Communications_ history within six years of working there.

"So, tell me about your day," Peter said as he leaned his forearms on the table between them.

"It was a good day," she replied quickly with a smile that lit her whole face up.

Peter gestured with his hand for her to continue.

"I had my normal class and they were great as they always are. I feel like we've made some real progress together and it's a really good feeling."

"That's great," Peter offered. "I bet you're fantastic at your job." He rolled his eyes at the cheesiness of his line but Isabella simply chuckled.

"I love my job for sure," she said as she drew her finger up the stem of her glass. "I tutor a one on one session every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday and today was…a great one."

She found a smile emerge across her face as she thought back to her time with Cullen and the bridges they had built during their time together. Her eyes flicked up to Peter who was looking at her curiously. She shifted in her seat and bit her lip suddenly feeling extremely conscious of herself.

"Something you want to share?" he asked as he picked up his bottle of beer.

She laughed lightly and ran a hand through her hair. "Um…the guy that I tutor…he can be very difficult. He's one of life's bad boys if you will. But he has a softer side and he's finally beginning to embrace it. It's just really good to see."

Peter saw the sparkle in her eyes as she spoke. She looked excited. If Peter had thought more about it he may have even said that the look on her face was lustful but he didn't allow himself to ponder that for a second longer than he needed to.

"It must be a good feeling to finally break through with guys like that?" he offered as he sat back in his seat.

She nodded slowly. "It is," she agreed.

There was that look again. Peter sighed and decided to change the subject.

They talked for two hours.

Isabella asked about Peter's son and his own hobbies, learning that he loved surfing and rock climbing. She laughed loudly when he told her that she should accompany him on his next climb. He asked her about her love of books and found himself leaning forward as she explained why Hemmingway was her favourite writer and Rossetti was her favourite poet.

Peter couldn't help but find her intelligence and passion sexy as hell.

Being the gentleman that he was, Peter offered to walk Isabella home. She tried to resist his charm but found that she wasn't quite ready for the night to end so it was just before eleven when they stopped outside the Belmont building of Isabella's apartment.

"This is me," Isabella said as she pulled her key out of her bag.

Peter nodded and looked up at the building while pushing his hands into his pockets. He glanced back down at the woman before him and was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to kiss her.

"I had a really good time," he said instead after clearing his throat.

"Me too," she replied honestly.

She noticed that he was looking at her mouth and was at once extremely nervous. An unsettled feeling, which was not unlike anxiety rested in her stomach. She tried her hardest to ignore it, putting it down to nothing more than too many Martinis.

"So," Peter continued awkwardly. "Can I call you again some time?"

Isabella smiled and nodded. "Sure. I'd like that."

"Me too," Peter answered, laughing nervously. He rubbed his hands down his face after another moments silence and grunted. "Ah man, I suck at this stuff."

Isabella laughed too, grateful for the ease in tension that surrounded them both. "You're doing good," she said with a small smile.

"Thanks," he replied dryly. "But I'm not sure you'd be saying that if you knew how much I wanted to kiss you right now."

Isabella's smile faltered slightly and her breath caught in her throat. "Um…well I…yeah, I don't know…"

Peter laughed, relieved as hell that she seemed as nervous as he was.

"It's ok, Isabella," he said softly and took her right hand.

He pressed his lips gently to the back of it, keeping his eyes on hers. Isabella's stomach flipped slightly but the ball of anxiety remained.

"Good night," he whispered as he stood back up and released her hand.

"Good night, Peter," she answered. She smiled at him again before turning slowly to enter her building.

Peter watched as she disappeared into the lobby and exhaled loudly. He shook out his arms and stretched, all of a sudden feeling energised and awake. He set off down the street and pulled his cell out of his pocket, pressing two for speed dial.

"How did it go?" the voice on the other end answered after two rings.

"It was great, Jazz. She's beautiful. I really want to see her again."

=PoF=

Isabella awoke the following morning feeling tired, breathless and emotionally drained.

Her night had been filled with terrible nightmares that made her toss and turn until, finally at three AM; she had given up and taken a couple of her sleeping pills. She had been doing so well without them until now and she was at once incensed that her fucking brain was incapable of switching off for one more night.

She had a very hot shower and poured herself a cup of strong coffee before filling herself with a large bowl of cereal. All the while, she found that her mind returned to the dream that had been on a repeat cycle from the moment her head had hit the pillow.

_It had been the same night – _fifteen years before_ – but she was an adult watching the same events unfold. She saw herself, nine years old, and sprawled across the sidewalk as the group of animals descended on her father. She had taken a tentative step towards the group as she tried to shout at them to leave him alone but as was usual in her dreams; she had no voice._

_She approached the group quickly, watching helplessly as they pounded, kicked and pummelled the man in a suit. They were vicious, callous and relentless; beating him with fists and bats that connected with his body with sickening precision._

_That was when the man had looked up at her and what she saw had taken her breath away. It wasn't her father that was on the floor having the life beaten out of him._

_It was Cullen._

_She had screamed as she saw him: battered, bruised and bleeding from every orifice on his beautiful face. She tried to push the men away so that he had a fighting chance but her arm was caught in a strong, powerful grip._

_She turned to see her father, flanked by Jamie and Peter, dragging her away from Cullen as he called to her for help._

"_Peaches, help me! Help me, please!"_

By the third time she had had the dream she was sobbing uncontrollably and the pills were her only salvation.

She closed her eyes and sipped her coffee as the sound of his voice reverberated around her skull once again. He had pleaded with her. He had begged and she had been unable to do anything for him.

She didn't need Freud to tell her what this particular dream meant.

She wasn't helping him.

=PoF=

She found that she was distant and disengaged the entire day, once she arrived for her morning lesson. She even found herself apologising to Angela for snapping at her for moving a resource that she needed for her class.

"What side of whose bed did _you_ wake up on, Miss S?" Emmett had snorted with a grin, making Isabella snap her head in his direction. The look she gave him was enough to turn a lesser man to salt.

"Whoa, whoa," he protested while he hid, as best as he could, behind Angela's shoulder. "I was just kidding!"

Isabella ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I...had a bad night's sleep." She smiled apologetically at her class. "I love my sleep."

Emmett smiled back at her and nodded in acceptance of her apology.

Sam wrote a small note for her and dropped it in her hand as she passed. She unfolded it and smiled wryly at the aptness of words she read: '_O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, that thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, and steep my senses in forgetfulness?'_

"That's so right it's almost scary, Sam," she whispered to him to which he simply nodded and smiled back.

He wasn't trying to be smart assed by quoting _Henry VI_ and his eyes showed nothing but sympathy for his tutor which made Isabella's heart clench in gratitude. Sam knew all too well what it felt like to wish for sleep so that the brain could forget and rest.

"Bad night's sleep, huh?" Angela questioned as the class filed out at the end of the hour. "Is that like...a euphemism?" She laughed and wiggled her eyebrows.

Isabella rolled her eyes and stuffed her resources back into her bag. "No, Angela, it's not," she retorted sharply. "It means I had a shitty night's sleep because of some fucking..._horrendous, God awful_ nightmare that was...it was...he...it was just..."

She stopped talking and tried to regain her breath. Her heart was pounding and her head throbbed from being so tired. She leaned her hands on her desk and breathed deeply through her nose and out through her mouth, willing the pain to ease.

Angela's hand was immediately on her shoulder trying to calm her down.

"Hey, Isabella, I'm sorry." Angela cursed herself for what she had said and apologised again.

"Don't apologise," Isabella said with a meek smile. "I've been a heinous bitch this morning and I shouldn't have taken my lack of sleep out on you." She stood back up and exhaled. "I'm sorry."

Angela smiled back at her and shook her head. "It's fine, honestly. That nightmare must have been pretty vivid. You went pale for a second there, Girl. Do you want to talk about it?"

Isabella paused for a moment. Did she want to talk about it? Would she be able to tell Angela about her dream without having to tell her _why_ she dreamt of a group of men beating someone to death and that it was a latent memory of the night her father was savagely murdered?

She contemplated it quickly before shaking her head.

"No, I'm good. But thank you."

"Ok," Angela said seemingly dissatisfied with Isabella's inability to open up. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow. Say hi to Cullen for me."

Isabella's stomach flipped at the sound of his name which made her head ache even worse. All she could see and hear was the blood and the scream for help that erupted from him. She wasn't sure how she was going to cope with seeing him. It was always a strange sensation to have a dream about someone and then see them in the cold, hard light of day, least of all when the dream was that they had been killed by savages.

She took a seat in the staff room and pulled out her cell to find a text message from Jamie.

**Hey, Bells. I'm sorry too. I'm an asshole. I hope your date went well. Call me later. J x**

She smiled at the screen in relief and typed a quick message telling him that she would and that the date went fine. It wasn't a lie, she _had_ enjoyed herself. She was just still annoyed with herself after the whole kissing Peter debacle. A charming, handsome, funny guy had told her that he wanted to kiss her and all she could do was stand, looking like an idiot while remaining entirely mute.

"Fucking moron," she muttered to herself as she sent the text.

She had no idea why she had behaved in such a way. Peter was obviously nervous too and it had obviously taken guts for him to say what he had and yet when he had told her that he wanted to kiss her she had frozen up. She couldn't understand it. She liked him and she wanted him to kiss her but there was something deep inside her that stopped her from allowing him to.

"It was only the first date," she continued to mutter to herself.

"Will there be a second?"

Isabella looked up to see Garrett smiling down at her.

"Hey," she said quickly and stood to meet him. "How are you?"

"Good," he replied quickly. He didn't ask her how she was as he took in the dark circles under her eyes. That was enough to tell him that she was tired. "I just wanted to let you know that Edward's parole officer, Charlotte will be here at eleven on Thursday."

"Great, great and I'm still ok to be present?"

"Absolutely," he answered quickly. "That boy needs as much help as he can get."

Isabella felt the blood once again run from her face at his words and she gripped the sofa arm to hold herself up.

"_Help me please!"_

Garrett looked at her in concern.

"Are you ok, Isabella?"

"Mmhm," she answered as she swayed slightly from side to side, trying to ignore the feeling of nausea that swept over her like a tsunami.

"You don't look it," Garrett countered. "Sit down, please."

She did as he asked, dropping her face into her hands and moaning as the throb in her head began again in earnest. The words echoed over and over while the images of her dream flickered behind her eyelids like an old movie stuck on repeat.

Garrett watched the small woman at his side with a furrowed brow. She looked awful and her breathing seemed laboured almost as if she was finding it difficult to do so.

"Isabella," he murmured. "Forgive me for saying so and it may be none of my business but you really don't look well enough to be here. Maybe you should go home?"

Isabella shook her head that was still resting in her palms. "I can't," she replied. "I have Cullen in two hours." Her throat closed around his name.

"_Peaches, help me…"_

"Forget Edward, Isabella. If you're ill, go home. Don't be a martyr." Garrett's tone suddenly sounded fatherly and it was as much a comfort to Isabella as it was upsetting.

She blinked back her tears and dropped her hands. She sat back slowly in her seat and exhaled heavily. Garrett moved closer to her and smiled gently when their eyes met.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly. There was no one else in the room but he knew that people were a lot more likely to open up if a soft, calming, quiet voice was used.

Isabella closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "I…I just didn't sleep too good last night," she offered.

Garrett remained quiet, knowing that there was more for her to say. He sat back against the couch and waited. Isabella began playing with the hem of the top that she was wearing and kept her eyes on her hands as she did.

"I had a nightmare," she began. "I've had it before…but there were…._elements_…that were different this time and it…it was…it was _fucking_ horrible." Her voice shook at the end of her sentence. "It kept me awake for most of the night and I can't stop thinking about it."

She rubbed her face and sighed in defeat.

"Nightmares are funny things," Garrett offered. "If they are vivid enough they can affect people for days."

"Great," Isabella snorted sarcastically.

"The thing you have to remember, Isabella, is that they are not real. They may contain the most horrific images one can imagine but you always, always remember they. Are. Not. Real."

_But it had been real…the only difference was the victim…_

"I know," she said softly. "I know that but…" She glanced up at Garrett. His face held no judgement, no expectation and she suddenly wanted to open up to him. "It was based on a…memory that I have…about my father."

Garrett's head lifted in understanding._ Shit_. Of course he knew who her father was and what had happened to the poor bastard. It had been on the TV and in the newspapers for months afterwards. As he knew it, she had witnessed the entire thing. He immediately felt protective of her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Isabella," he said sincerely.

"Yeah," she replied quietly. "I guess sometimes nightmares are more real than you realise, huh?"

She laughed but it didn't fit the moment, sounding more like a groan of anguish. She felt cold inside and out and a strange craving for her bed overtook her. She needed to sleep. She needed to let her brain rest.

"Look," Garrett continued. "Go home. I'll explain to Edward that you've gone home sick and you can relax. Try and rest and come back bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow."

She shook her head slowly. "No," she said firmly. "If I'm going home, I need to tell Cullen myself."

Garrett looked at the determination on her face and didn't argue. He had witnessed something between the two of them when she had convinced Edward to take part in her sessions and he knew that whatever it was was more important than him or his working relationship with Edward. They had connected on some level and he was both fascinated and concerned by it. He just prayed to God that Isabella Swan was as smart as she seemed to be.

"He's in the middle of his training session with Alec," Garrett offered. "Do you want me to take you down?"

"Sure," she replied with a small smile. "Thank you, Garrett. I really appreciate this."

"No problem."

He stood and offered his hand for her. She took it and wobbled on her feet. She had never felt as light headed as she did at that moment.

"How are you getting home?" Garrett asked as he felt her clutch his suit jacket sleeve to stop herself from stumbling.

"I'm driving," she answered with a puzzled expression.

"Oh no you're not, I'll take you. You can't drive like this. I couldn't let you drive like this with a clear conscience."

Isabella opened her mouth to protest but the look in Garrett's eyes told her otherwise.

"I suppose I_ could_ get the ferry tomorrow," she murmured as they began walking down the corridor.

"Yes, I _suppose_ you could," he replied with an agreeable nod.

=PoF=

Cullen meanwhile was just about ready to kill a motherfucker with his bare hands.

A feat that would've been totally doable had his hands not been aching like goddamn hell as he held his entire body weight from the metal bar that Alec had recently dubbed Cullen's 'new best friend.'

_Best friend my felony committing ass…_

"Ten more seconds," Alec called from his cosy place on the floor. Cross legged and grinning like a fucking asshole, it was clear that he loved every second of Cullen's suffering.

"You…said ten seconds….fucking…thirty seconds ago," Cullen panted.

The burn in his arms was excruciating and his biceps were practically screaming. He was sure that the dove that was tattooed on his right arm was just about ready to take flight and find a more comfy abode. Not that Cullen would have blamed it.

His trainer shrugged and smiled widely.

"_Fuck_…Alec…give me a break…_uh_!"

He pulled himself up higher, feeling his shoulders creak and groan in protest. His chest muscles were pulled taught and his temples throbbed with the pressure.

"Nearly there," Alec mused as he casually glanced at his watch.

_Fucker…_

"Five…four…three…two…one…half…ok, you're good."

Cullen let go immediately and landed with a thump on the mat below him. "You…son of a bitch," Cullen groaned as he writhed on the floor.

"Hey now, my mother is a good woman. We'll have less of that talk."

Cullen couldn't help but smile. The extra gym sessions were allocated after his 'altercation' with Tyler (who was still in the clinic). They were meant to calm him further and he had to admit they had been working.

_Or maybe it's something to do with Peaches…_

His session with her the day before had been nothing short of fucking awesome. They had touched – briefly – but it had happened. Cullen feared that now he had touched her he would find it almost impossible to keep his hands to himself. He looked down at his palms and saw that they were red and sweating.

_Nice…_

But the defining moment for Cullen had been when she had allowed him to call her Peaches. He had nearly thrown himself across the room and slammed her against the wall just so he could show her his appreciation at the gesture. And that shit was after she had confessed that she was single.

Yeah, it had been a good fucking day all around.

Alec handed him a bottle of water and shook his head patronisingly as Cullen glared up at him. It was on the tip of Cullen's tongue to say something lewd or gross about his trainer's mother when a guard appeared at the door way stopping the words from falling.

"Garrett Volture is here to speak to Cullen," he said as he waved a dismissive hand in Cullen's direction.

Alec glanced at Cullen and raised his eyebrows in question to which Cullen simply shrugged in response.

"Show him in," Alec replied with an equally dismissive hand before turning back to Cullen who was looking equally mystified. "What the fuck have you done now?" he asked with a smile.

"I haven't done anything," Cullen answered with a shrug.

He turned slowly and his heart thumped in his bare chest as he noticed Peaches walking behind Garrett. He stood quickly and took a couple of steps towards her but stopped abruptly when he noticed the look on her face.

She was still fucking gorgeous but her eyes looked so sad and tired. She was pale too. Her skin had lost its ever present sparkle and her shoulders drooped as though she were carrying the weight of the world on them.

"What the fuck has happened?" he snapped, looking directly at Peaches who avoided his gaze by looking down at her feet and shifting from one to the other. He would kill any motherfucker who had hurt her.

"Nothing's happened," Garrett answered quickly, holding his hands up in defence. He turned so that Isabella was no longer hidden behind him. "Isabella isn't feeling too well…"

"What's wrong?" Cullen interrupted, still staring at her, desperate for her to look at him.

She bit her lip and pushed her hair back, finally allowing her eyes to meet his. When they did the ball of emotion that she had pushed down deep into her stomach since she had woken that morning suddenly reared up through her body.

She closed her eyes momentarily to try and gain her bearings and felt a strong hand grab her forearm as she swayed once again. She opened them, expecting to see Garrett but instead saw Cullen looking down at her with an expression that was locked somewhere between anger and concern.

She looked between his hand and his face and then towards Garrett and Cullen's trainer to see that they had moved away from them slightly and were conversing quietly while stealing glances in their direction.

"Peaches," Cullen murmured so only she could hear. "What's wrong? Why are you here? We have a session in an hour."

Isabella took a deep breath and tried to focus on his hand on her arm and not the fact that he was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of loose fitting shorts that were hanging precariously low on his hips. She let her eyes wander over his sweating body until they were at his arms and she could finally take in the tattoos that were etched over the tops of his shoulders and down each bicep to the crook of his elbow of his left.

They were beautiful. _He_ was beautiful.

Cullen shifted under her gaze. It burned into him and made him feel everything at once. He had never felt more exposed.

Isabella looked up at his face and took a deep breath. There were no bruises, no bleeding but she couldn't shake the images that had become almost etched into her eyelids.

"I'm not feeling very well," she whispered. "I…I didn't sleep well last night…I had…and I feel a little sick…"

"Are you ill?" he asked quietly but firmly. His brow furrowed and the grip on her arm tightened slightly.

"No," she answered with a shake of her head. "I…Cullen, I have to cancel our session. Garrett is going to take me home…and…I'm so sorry…"

Her voice caught on the last words and her eyes filled with tears. Cullen's heart tore in two as he saw her struggle to maintain herself. He was so used to seeing her strong and sassy that seeing her so small and fragile just made him want to take care of her. He wanted so much to hold her and kiss away whatever was wrong but he knew he couldn't.

"It's ok," he said finally as he released her arm. "If you're unwell then you…um, well you should be at home and not here with…with me."

He tried to sound accepting but he had found that their time together was the only thing that helped him get his sorry ass up in a morning.

_At least she's here now dipshit…_

"I want to be," she whispered. "I want to…help…but…I…"

"Go home," Cullen ordered with a dip of his head so that he could catch her eye. "I'll be fine without Bill Shakespeare for one fucking day. I'm sure I'll survive."

He smiled with the left side of his mouth and Isabella found herself smiling back.

"I am sorry," she repeated honestly.

She wanted nothing more than to stay and talk with him about Shakespeare for the next couple of hours but her head was filled with so much that she was finding it hard to focus on anything.

"So you keep saying," Cullen replied. "But there's no need to be. Go and rest. You look like you need it." He smirked even more as her eyes widened at his words.

"Well thanks a lot," she retorted sharply as she crossed her arms across her chest.

_Ah, there's my Peaches…_

He laughed lightly. "I'll see you on Thursday, Miss Swan."

"You will. I'll be here when you meet Charlotte, ok?"

He nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't looking forward to his parole officer's meeting but Peaches being there would make it a fuckton easier. She calmed him so much.

"Ok," he answered.

He smiled again and turned back to retrieve his towel from the floor. He glanced at Garrett who nodded in acknowledgement and watched as he walked out with his Peaches at his side.

"Everything copasetic?" Alec asked as he wandered back over.

"Yeah," Cullen replied as he rubbed the towel down his face. He threw it down to the ground when he was done and growled as he gripped at his hair. "Alec," he said in a tone that defied disagreement. "I think its time for the fucking punching bag."

=PoF=

The conversation in Garrett's car was limited at best. Isabella allowed herself to snooze gently as he drove her home. She felt a million times better after having spoken to Cullen but it had been so strange seeing him after having her dream. It had been even stranger having to speak to him while he was half naked.

_Dammit he was so beautiful…_

She rubbed he eyes and sighed.

"You ok over there?" Garrett asked as he turned down Isabella's street.

"Yeah," she answered. "I'm good. I really appreciate all this, Garrett. Thank you."

"No problem," he replied with a shrug. "So Edward was ok?"

Isabella nodded. "He seemed to be. He actually took it better than I expected."

"Yeah me too," Garrett murmured to himself, too low for Isabella to hear. "You seem to be getting through to him which is fantastic."

"I hope so."

"You are. He seems a lot more…comfortable with you now." Garrett parked the car and turned off the engine. He turned in his seat so that he was facing her. "May I say something that may sound a little…forward?"

Isabella swallowed loudly, "Um…sure?"

"I think what you have achieved with Edward in such a short time is great, I really do."

"But…" Isabella finished for him.

"But nothing," he countered with a shake of his head. "I am all for Edward behaving like a regular human being for as long as possible."

Isabella laughed gently and rubbed her temple.

"I just hope you don't forget that he can be volatile and…changeable." Garrett struggled for the right words. "I just don't want you to get too…involved."

Isabella stared at Garrett for a long time, shocked and a little pissed at what he had just said.

"And _you're_ not involved?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Of course I'm involved," Garrett said softly, noticing the tension in Isabella's face. "I care about Edward but I have known him a lot longer than you have and I am pretty sure my skin is a lot thicker than yours."

"My skin is thick enough," she retorted as she grabbed for the door handle.

"Isabella," Garrett protested, stopping her from getting out of the car. "I don't mean to upset you or offend you its just…I've seen the way you are with him and the way he is with you…its different and…people notice things…"

"Notice what?" Isabella asked with a hint of panic in her voice.

"Just…be aware, ok?" Garrett said cryptically.

Isabella frowned but nodded. Her head was too far up her own ass to try and start deciphering what the hell he was talking about.

"Ok," she replied with a sigh. "Thank you again for today."

"No problem," he said with a smile. "See you Thursday."

Isabella nodded and got out of the car. She walked quickly across the street to her apartment building and once she took the elevator up to her floor she hurriedly retrieved her key from her bag.

Once inside her apartment she went straight to the en suite and headed for the mirrored cabinet that held her pills.

_Just once more…_

"Fuck," she muttered to herself as she opened it up and pulled out the infamous bottle of blue pills.

She shook two into her hand and slapped them to her mouth without taking a drink. She stripped down to her bra and panties as she made her way to bed and crawled under the covers.

It was only when she knew that she was safe in bed and that there was no one else around that she let the ball of emotion escape.

A loud wailing sob erupted from her mouth as she cried into her pillow and fisted at the sheets of her bed. Her chest heaved and her tears ran freely as she remembered the look on Cullen's face in her dream which then flickered to the actual night and the cries and shouts of her father as he was killed in front of her.

"Daddy," she sobbed as she wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm so sorry. I'm…I'm trying so hard to help…but I can't…"

Her thoughts then travelled back to Cullen and the sessions that they had had together. Was it really only three weeks that they had known one another? Was Garrett right when he said that they were different together?

She was so confused and so scared that she wasn't living up to what she had promised her father the night that he had died. She had to try harder but she was beginning to feel that she didn't have the energy. The will was there but her fears for failure were more so.

As she drifted off into a deep sleep Isabella began to realise that her pound of flesh was suddenly starting to feel extremely heavy.

**Holy emotional roller coaster, Batman!**

**I know there hasn't been a lot of PAW and Bella interaction but believe me when I say that all of this is necessary for the rest of the story *cough* when PAW is released *cough***

**And I hope you understand why Isabella had to go on a date with Peter? It's all part of the plan…**

**I hope you're all still with me and that you trust that I'll not steer you wrong.**

**Thank you so much for the love as always.**

**TTFN xxx**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hola!**

**Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter.**

**I am so glad that so many of you agreed that it was necessary for Isabella to go on a date with Peter. I am also happy that many of you liked him – he will be back again. (Not this chapter.) Many of you also had some interesting interpretations of Isabella's dream too – thank you for those!**

**I have tried once again to reply to as many reviews as I can. If I didn't get to yours, huggge apologies, but I assure you that ****every one**** makes me smile. Thank you.**

**For anyone that has missed it the other times I have explained…PAW = Punk Assward**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 12: The Possibilities**

"_What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise" ~ _**Oscar Wilde**

Isabella's sleep had been disturbed at best.

She had tossed and turned for the majority of the night. Her eyes couldn't seem to find rest but then neither could her head or her heart. Each part of her was busy in its own way. Her head ran through continuous images of her father, Jamie, Peter and more confusing of all, Cullen.

She found herself, alone, back on the street where her father died, running towards a bright light that moved further away from her the harder and faster she ran. Then she was in her classroom, surrounded by her students, Peter and Jamie. All of them were talking at her at once with no decipherable words hitting her ears.

The study room where she met Cullen was next, where he sat, mute and unmoving even though she was screaming at him to talk to her before she opened her eyes in panic and found that she was still in her bed.

She would try to stay awake before she could fight it no longer. She would close her eyes and the sequence would start all over again.

At six that morning Isabella finally gave up trying to sleep. Her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and her eyes stung from lack of rest. Groaning and inwardly cursing herself, she picked up her cell from the bed side table and dialled Arthur Kill. She had never had a sick day in the three years that she had been teaching but there was no way that she could move from her sanctuary.

Luckily, Mike Newton hadn't arrived at the facility so it was his ever sympathetic secretary who she spoke to and explained that she would not be in for her morning class.

"You sound terrible, dear," she said softly. "You get some sleep and make sure you eat something stodgy. My husband always makes me something stodgy when I'm sick."

Isabella thanked her for her concern and her culinary remedies and ended the call before turning her cell phone off. She threw it back on the side and snuggled further under her comforter desperate for peace and respite.

Alice Brandon however had other ideas. By the time eleven AM arrived and Isabella still hadn't turned on her cell phone or called her back, she was standing, food and coffee in hand while she hammered the wood of the apartment door with her other. She knew that there was something wrong. She knew that Isabella had been on a date with Peter and she was yet to call her and tell her how it had gone. Yes, there was something definitely wrong.

She was just about to call the cops to break into Isabella's apartment when she finally heard the locks being moved from inside. Isabella grimaced and leaned heavily against the door as she opened it slightly. She was wrapped in a black wool blanket and was wearing pink thermal socks even though the temperature outside was ready to hit ninety.

"I brought sustenance," Alice offered as she held up the bags of food and drink.

"I don't want..." Isabella started but was stopped by Alice pushing past her with a large huff and an eye roll.

"Whatever, Bells, you look like death warmed up and your cell is turned off. That tells me you need stodge, coffee and a shoulder to cry on, so, here I am."

She opened her arms wide with a smile that matched before turning gracefully and walked towards Isabella's bedroom. She placed the food and coffee (that was luckily in a holder) in the centre of the bed and patted the comforter as she looked at Isabella's incredulous face.

"Come on, Swanface," she offered with a smaller, more sympathetic smile. "Humour me."

Isabella rolled her eyes good naturedly and walked around the side of the bed, shuffling onto it with a long exhale. It wasn't that she was ungrateful for Alice's determination, it was more the fact that her friend was _so _determined that she knew that she would have to tell her everything that had been going on with her and that prospect scared the ever loving shit out of her.

She was barely aware of what the hell was going on in her own mind herself, let alone having to try to explain it to someone else.

Alice pulled out napkins and two huge breakfast burritos that smelled heavenly. Isabella could practically hear her hips groan in protest but she wasn't about to deny herself calories on this particular day. She took it from Alice eagerly and sat cross legged while Alice did the same at the side of her.

They began eating their calorific brunch in relative silence that was punctuated by moans of satisfaction and happiness. The coffee was also just what Isabella needed and she drank it down as if her life depended on it. Caffeine at this point was her new best friend.

Alice finished her food first and sat back against the headboard of the bed and watched her friend as she finished her own. Isabella looked tired. No, it was more than that. It was a look of exhaustion with a hint of defeat and that was something that Alice had never seen on Isabella before. She was always such a strong and resolute individual: which was why the two women gravitated to each other so much. But currently, Isabella looked anything but.

"Better?" Alice asked once Isabella had finished her food. She nodded and hummed in response.

"Tons," she replied with a grin, before shifting up to the headboard.

Alice sighed and tried to look at Isabella as sincerely as she could. "Look, Bells, I know that there is stuff going on with you."

Isabella dropped her eyes to her hands that were fisting eagerly into the sheet of her bed. She still felt so cold.

"You have never had a sick day; you had a date with Peter and never called me to tell me how it went. You look exhausted so you're obviously not sleeping and you're wrapped up in that comforter as though it were the depth of winter." Alice gestured to her friend with a wave of her hand. "I don't want to pry, I don't, but I'm worried about you, Girl."

She tucked a piece of hair that had come loose from Isabella's clip behind her ear and rubbed the top of her arm. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Isabella nodded, not convinced that her voice would hold out if she were to start talking.

"Ok, good."

They remained sitting in silence for fifteen minutes before Isabella started talking.

"You're right, I'm not sleeping," she croaked with a shake of her head. "I'm even back on my pills." She shook her head in annoyance. "I tried coming off of them but...the nightmares I have are..." She paused and rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand.

"You have nightmares?" Alice asked softly, "About your dad?"

"Sometimes," Isabella replied with a nod. "But recently they are about...everything."

Alice stayed quiet while she watched her friend struggle with what she was comfortable telling her.

"My date with Peter went great," she offered with a genuine smile. "He's funny, attentive, handsome..."

"Sexy accent," Alice interrupted with a nudge of Isabella's shoulder. Isabella laughed lightly and raised her eyebrows in agreement.

"We talked and had a good laugh. He even walked me home."

"Southern gentleman," Alice smiled, knowing that Jasper would have done exactly the same.

The Whitlock boys were from good, well mannered stock and Isabella would be crazy to pass up an opportunity with Peter. Now that his divorce had come through he was, once again, an eligible bachelor and Alice for one knew that there were plenty of women across Manhattan Island who were ready to sink their perfectly manicured claws into his eligible ass.

"He said that he...wanted to kiss me," Isabella said in no more than a whisper.

Ordinarily Alice would have clapped and squealed and asked about tongue action but the look on Isabella's face stopped her cold.

"But you didn't," Alice concluded with a shake of her head.

"No," Isabella replied.

Saying it out loud it sounded fucking ridiculous. Peter was a great guy and she was definitely attracted to him, there was just something that stopped her and she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was.

"I like him," she added eagerly. "I do, it's just..."

She exhaled in frustration and raised her eyes to the heavens. Alice shuffled closer to her and took her hand in her own.

"It's early days, Bells," she said encouragingly. "No one was expecting shit hot smooches and passionate fucking on the first date."

They both laughed and the darkness of the room lifted momentarily.

"Me and my damn principles," Isabella added with a wry smile.

Alice laughed again before adding seriously, "Just take it slow and see what happens."

Isabella nodded and ran her free hand through her hair that felt dirty from the night sweats that she had endured over the past seven hours.

"He was in my nightmare," Isabella said quickly before glancing up at her friend. Alice looked back at her with a puzzled look on her face.

"Peter?" she clarified with a dip of her chin to which Isabella nodded in response.

"After the date, I dreamt that I was back where my father got attacked." She took a deep breath and squeezed Alice's hand without even realising it.

"I saw the same men, in the same place, doing the same things that they did that night but..."

"You're ok, Bells," Alice murmured gently.

"It wasn't my dad that they were hurting. It was one of my students." Isabella felt her throat close as the sound of his pleading echoed around her skull once more.

"They were hurting him?" Alice asked.

"Yes," Isabella answered immediately, the terror still detectable in her tone.

"They were killing him," she continued. "And I tried to get to him but my father, Jamie...and Peter dragged me away from him. He was screaming for help, Alice, and I couldn't do anything...I was helpless...I was so fucking helpless, just like I was that night...and I know it means that I'm not helping Cullen and...Christ...he's so clever and sensitive...and he deserves to get out of that shit hole but...I don't know what I can do to help and my promise is broken to my dad and...I'm sorry...I...I'm so fucking sorry..."

She collapsed against Alice's shoulder, sobbing and heaving for breath. Alice was utterly distraught at seeing her friend in such pain and held her tightly as she cried frightened, desperate tears into her shirt. It had been a long, long time since she had seen Isabella cry about her father and it was just as unsettling as it had been the one other time it had happened.

"I feel so lost," Isabella muttered from her resting place in Alice's lap. Alice was stroking her hair gently, in an attempt to calm her down.

"Isabella," she said softly. "Who's Cullen?"

Isabella exhaled as a familiar twist in her stomach occurred. It was gone as quickly as it arrived.

"He's the inmate that I do one to one sessions with. He was the one in my dream."

Alice frowned gently, knowing that the name was familiar to her. "And why do you think you aren't helping him?"

Isabella sat up. Her eyes were all bloodshot and the side of her cheek was red from leaning against Alice's leg.

"My dream, Alice," she offered with open palms. "I couldn't help him. I couldn't stop the men from killing him. Come on, Dr Freud, tell me you see that!"

Alice remained silent as she mulled over Isabella's theory.

"Possibly, Bells, but why would your father drag you away from him? Surely your dad would want you to help him?"

Isabella opened her mouth to protest but nothing came out. She hadn't thought of that aspect of the dream. Why had it been her father? Jamie was fairly self explanatory; he was forever showing his dislike for Isabella's job choice and Peter...? Maybe he was just there because he was the last person she saw before she slept?

She grimaced and shrugged as Alice logicality seeped into her head.

"I don't know," she conceded, feeling even more lost as her dream explanation evaporated in front of her.

"You said this Cullen is clever?" Alice said as she watched Isabella's face fall.

"Yeah, he is," she answered, unable to keep the small smile from tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her mouth suddenly went dry when she remembered how he had looked in the gym when she had last seen him: Masculine, strong and sexy as hell.

She cleared her throat and her eyes darted to Alice's in the hopes that her blush wasn't too noticeable on her cheeks. Unlucky for her it was. Alice crossed her arms over her chest and mused over that while Isabella continued talking about the sessions that she had had with him, the ups and the down and the parole meeting that was so crucial.

"Seeing him in my dream though, Alice, and hearing him scream for me to help him..." She paused and blew a long breath out between her pursed lips. "I just couldn't face seeing him...or face being at the facility today." She felt Alice nod at the side of her.

"I need to figure out what I'm doing wrong or...what I'm meant to be doing or..." She groaned in frustration and slapped her hands to her thighs. "I don't know. I just needed a day to regroup."

"That's allowed, Isabella," Alice smiled. "But, Honey, when do you think you're doing anything wrong?"

Isabella looked at her blankly.

"You said your class is really engaged and that your relationship with Cullen has improved. Maybe you're doing everything right? Maybe you don't have to change a Goddamn thing?"

_And maybe you like this Cullen guy a little more than you should...?_

Isabella slumped against the headboard once again and once again contemplated that she was, in terms of figuring anything out, right back at square one.

"Bells, we both know that your father, wherever he is, is so fucking proud of you and what you are doing."

Isabella gave a small smile and felt a tear run down her right cheek as she nodded. She knew what Alice was saying was true; deep down in her gut.

"You are doing everything that you said you would. You are following through on your promise and making a difference; giving back like you said you would."

"I'm trying," Isabella whispered determinedly. "I really am and I know that this is just a dip in the road but..._fuck_...it came out of nowhere." She rubbed her hands down her face and rested her chin on her knee.

"Do you still write to him?"

Alice was referring to the notebook that Isabella's therapist had given to her on her first therapy session twelve years ago. Isabella had resisted therapy for three years before she finally gave in to her mother's pleadings.

Isabella's therapist had explained that, in writing to her father, she would vent her grief in a productive way instead of becoming angry and bitter, which was, admittedly, what Isabella had started to become. It had helped in its own way. Growing up and always as she sat in Battery Park, she had told her father about school, college, and her friends.

She told him about how Jamie had tried to kiss her when she was eleven and that she had punched him in the face in response and she had even told him when she had gotten drunk with Leah on her seventeenth birthday. But Isabella hadn't used it for a long time.

She shook her head regretfully. "Not for a while."

"Well," Alice broached carefully. "Maybe it's time you did? Maybe that might help; give you some clarity and help you to organise everything that's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

Isabella rubbed her hands down her knees and sighed. "Maybe you're right."

=PoF=

Cullen was anxious. He was anxious and nervous and fuck, where the _hell_ was Peaches?

He was sitting in a nicer room than what he was used to alongside Garrett and his rat faced attorney. Charlotte, his parole officer, was due in fifteen minutes and Peaches _still_ hadn't arrived. She was definitely in; Garrett had told him so when he had asked as nonchalantly as he could of her whereabouts. He had been told by Emmett that she had been off sick the day before which had left him restless all fucking day.

He wanted to ask Garrett if Isabella was well again but he thought better of it when Garrett had eyed him in a way that made him nervous.

She had looked so exhausted and worn when he had last seen her and he hoped that she was now feeling better. Not having their session had made Tuesday drag like hell.

He was sure his anxiety wouldn't have been as bad if he had been allowed a fucking cigarette but he had been told that it was _prohibited_ in that particular part of the building. What a croc, he had thought to himself. Mike Newton was just causing him unnecessary stress like he always fucking did. _Cunt_.

The door of the room opened suddenly and Cullen's leg ceased its bouncing immediately as he saw Peaches enter with a small smile in his direction. She looked fucking stunning in a pale blue blouse and a black pencil skirt. Her hair was up in a loose twist and Cullen immediately wanted to unfasten it and then grab a handful, just so he could smell it. He groaned in annoyance when his dick perked up, wanting a piece of the hair porn action.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said softly in Garrett's direction while glancing at Cullen surreptitiously.

He caught the look and smiled to himself. Garrett cleared his throat at the side of him and Cullen's face dropped instantly. _Shit._ Cullen knew that Garrett was aware of there being _'something'_ between the two of them and he had continually asked about _Peaches_ and who or what it was, ever since his stupid ass had passed the fuck out. Cullen knew that, being the tenacious little bastard that Garrett was, it wouldn't be long before he would start to put the pieces together.

In the mean time, he would have to be more careful. He knew that he had been a lot calmer around her. His temper had, where Peaches was concerned, been under control and as positive as a thing as that was, it could also prove to be very dangerous. With that thought, he slouched in his seat, averting his eyes from Peaches and went to work, picking at the cuticle on his right thumb.

_Fuck me, I need a smoke..._

As if on goddamn cue, Mike-_jerk-off_-Newton entered the room followed by Charlotte.

She was an attractive woman of about thirty-seven, with long auburn hair that rested just under her shoulder blades in carefully constructed waves. She was wearing a power suit today – knowing that she was dealing with Cullen and all that that implied – but she was happily surprised to see another woman in the room as she entered. _Strength in numbers..._

It wasn't that Charlotte was an extreme feminist, she was happily married with two children, but she knew what the prison environments could be like for women like her and the young, petite girl who smiled quickly at her.

Mike Newton began by making the introductions, which Charlotte considered unnecessary considering that she knew everyone else in the room. Cullen, as he usually did, seemingly ignored her apart from a small chin dip and a raise eyebrow.

"And this is Miss Swan, Cullen's tutor," Mike said with a wide smile between the women.

_Fucker..._

_Asshole..._

Isabella and Cullen both thought respectively and simultaneously.

"A pleasure," Charlotte said honestly as they shook hands. "Garrett's told me a lot about you and the work that you have been doing with Cullen."

Isabella smiled sheepishly at Garrett, feeling her cheeks warm as she thought back to their previous conversation about her relationship with Cullen.

"Yeah," she answered as she turned back to Charlotte. "He's worked hard."

_I am hard,_ Cullen thought with a small smile to himself as he decimated the skin on his thumb.

"Well, that's great," Charlotte replied before walking over to the table where she placed her bag and pulled out all the necessary papers that she needed. She took a seat opposite her client and began writing at the top of the application form.

"How are you?" she asked Cullen. "You look well."

"I'm just dandy," he answered in his usual blasé, cocky tone.

Charlotte bit her lip at his response and decided to quickly get down to why she was there.

"I have here a request for early parole from your councillor, which has also been signed by Mr. Newton, Mr. Yorkie and your lawyer." She held up the form in question and looked at Cullen until his eyes met hers.

"Now, the parole board doesn't meet for another six weeks so that gives us plenty of time for you to shape up and give the board reason for releasing you early."

Cullen bristled at her patronising tone and sat forward in his seat. "And what _exactly_ do I need to shape up?" he snarled.

Garrett shifted in his chair, as did Isabella who was silently praying that he didn't lose his shit. That was the last thing that he needed.

Charlotte's eyes never left Cullen's. She was used to his intimidating techniques and she was not in the mood for it.

"I have evidence here," she stated while she held up another form. "That you have assaulted another inmate recently, resulting in him being put in the clinic…"

"He's out now," Isabella interrupted without even realising that she was going to speak. She sat back in her seat as Charlotte's stern gaze met hers. "Sorry," she muttered.

Cullen cocked an eyebrow in Isabella's direction but she ignored it by dropping her chin and fisting her hands in her lap. She couldn't understand why she was so on edge.

Charlotte turned back to the details in front of her. "You have shown aggressive behaviour towards other inmates, staff – including Miss Swan and Mr. Newton – and have threatened guards while in their charge."

"That's because one of the fuckers assaulted my ass," Cullen fumed. "Nearly broke my goddamn wrist!"

"That was a…misunderstanding," Newton interjected with a nervous stammer.

"What the fuck ever," Edward growled.

"Edward," Garrett warned gently with an imperceptible shake of his head.

Yeah, take his side, Edward thought with a huge eye roll. _Why the fuck not?_

"Well, I'll be sure to look into that," Charlotte assured Cullen as – much to Newton's annoyance - she made a note in her diary to do exactly that. "But regardless," she continued as she lifted her head. "You have far more negatives than positives at this point."

Cullen shrugged as though he didn't give a damn but he knew that he wasn't fooling anyone.

"The question is; what are you doing to counteract these…unseemly incidents?"

Isabella glared at Newton as he quietly muttered 'unseemly' with a shake of his head. _He really is a dickhead…_

"As you know," Garrett said after a moment of tense silence during which Cullen pretended that the sole of is right shoe was the most fascinating item on the fucking planet. "Edward has been working with Miss Swan on a three day timetable where he has been studying English Literature."

"Yes, I do know this," Charlotte answered. She looked quickly at Isabella who was looking a lot more confident now that she knew Cullen's temper was on a leash. "How have the sessions been, Miss Swan?"

Isabella fought the urge to look at Cullen and instead smiled gently. "They have been excellent. Cullen has worked well. He is engaged and he has many insightful ideas about the topics that we have discussed."

Charlotte nodded and made a quick note. "I understand that Cullen and yourself had a couple of…shall we say, run-ins when you first started."

Isabella crossed her legs and swallowed. "That's correct," she replied.

"But not anymore?"

"No," she said firmly. "Cullen and I have come to an understanding in terms of his conduct during the sessions." She chanced a look at him and blinked when she saw that he was looking right at her with a small smirk at the corner of his mouth. It was terribly sexy and terribly distracting.

"Cullen's attitude has been positive and cooperative," she concluded as she looked quickly back at Charlotte. "It's clear that he wants to learn and do well."

She cringed inwardly as she spoke, liking her last sentence to that of an end of year report card comment. Charlotte however hadn't seemed to notice. She continued to write before she laced her fingers together on the table in front of her.

"That's great, Cullen," she said with a nod.

"But?" he and Garrett said in unison.

"But the board aren't stupid. They are aware that you attending these sessions with Miss Swan could be your sneaky way of simply scoring points with them."

"With all due respect," Garrett interrupted. "But isn't that the point?"

"Yes, of course," Charlotte concurred. "But Cullen needs to show dedication. He needs to show that he's not just doing it because he has to. He has to show that he's doing it because he wants to and sees everything that he learns as useful in the long term." She turned to Cullen. "That's what parole is all about, Cullen; long term."

"How long term are we talking?" Cullen's lawyer asked as he scribbled on a yellow note pad that was balanced precariously on his left knee.

Charlotte sat back and exhaled. "If he is granted parole in six weeks, that would mean that he is released eight months early, so…"

"Twelve months," the lawyer finished for her. Charlotte nodded.

"With the first nine being monitored closely by my self, another assigned parole officer and Garrett, should he wish to continue with his meetings post-parole."

Garrett nodded but didn't answer either way. He knew however that he did want to keep seeing Edward. The kid was a law unto himself and a part of him felt responsible for keeping him on the right track.

"So, do we keep doing the sessions…post-parole?" Isabella asked gingerly with a hand gesturing towards the space between herself and Cullen.

"That would definitely be something to consider," Charlotte replied. "It would show the board that you are dedicated and serious about your rehabilitation, but you need to discuss that between yourselves and decide before the meeting."

Cullen glanced at Peaches out of the corner of his eye to see a determined expression form across her beautiful face. He suddenly had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of continuing to see her once he was released. Even if it _was_ because the parole board deemed it 'necessary', he couldn't help the excitement that bubbled up.

He had thought fleetingly about what it would mean to see her when he wasn't surrounded by fucking bars and it made him feel both panicked and exhilarated.

_No guards, cameras or time limits…fuck me, the possibilities are endless…_

Isabella was feeling equally conflicted as she let Charlotte's words seep into her brain.

Seeing Cullen outside of Arthur Kill would be a strange experience, she was sure, but what also struck her was that she was sure she wanted to help him in any way she could and there was no doubt in her mind that she would agree to the sessions continuing, if his parole deemed it.

She had, after Alice had left the night before, pulled out her notebook and had begun to write. At first the words stuck, due to the tears that flowed, but eventually they came just as fast as the salt water hit the paper. As she had read back what she had confided in the pages, two hour later, she was unable to ignore that number of times that Cullen's name appeared.

It unsettled her at first but the more she thought about it, the more she realised that there was a reason for it and that that reason was simply that she was determined to help him as much as she could. Her pound of flesh _would_ be repaid.

Her dream could just fuck off…

"Is there anything you would like to ask or add, Cullen?" Charlotte asked as she clicked the tip of her Mont Blanc.

Cullen cleared his throat and sat forward in his seat. "If um, if I…Miss Swan…decide to continue with the sessions when I'm released…we do those for how long? I mean, do we do them for-fucking-ever?"

Isabella couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She caught Garrett's eye as he did the same and shook his head in affectionate exasperation.

Charlotte laughed lightly and shook her head. "At the end of your initial nine months of monitoring, you will meet again with the board and the situation will be reviewed. If Miss Swan _does_ agree then she will have to keep rigorous notes, detailing what you have studied and what the outcomes are as well as meeting with the board to explain them."

"That's not a problem," Isabella added quickly but firmly.

"I'm pleased to hear it," Charlotte retorted before turning back to Cullen. "But you know that there will be other terms to meet which will be decided in six weeks."

Cullen nodded with a wry smile, knowing that the usual bi-weekly drug tests and curfews would be implemented. _Fuck…_

"If that is all…" Charlotte trailed off.

Cullen nodded.

"Good. Garrett if I could have a word and Mr. Hughes, we'll speak soon." Cullen's lawyer grunted an affirmative and stood with her.

Isabella watched as Mr. Hughes shook Newton's and Garrett's hands before speaking quickly but quietly with Cullen who immediately looked incensed by whatever it was that he was talking about.

She frowned at his expression but turned back to Newton. "I may as well walk back with Cullen to the session room," she said as she picked up her bag. She noticed his narrowed eyes and paused, "If that's ok? I mean, I have no classes and I'm up to date with planning and…"

"It's a little early," he said as he glanced arrogantly at his watch.

Isabella stared at him with an expression that screamed: _yeah, and…?_

He exhaled and cleared his throat in aggravation. "I guess it isn't a problem."

"Thank you," she muttered as she pulled the bag further up her arm.

Newton sighed and walked towards the door where he ushered in two guards. Charlotte approached Isabella and held out a beautiful cream business card.

"Here are me contact details," she said as Isabella took it from her. "If you could let me know as soon as you have come to a decision about the sessions, I would appreciate it."

"Um, sure…no problem," Isabella answered as she tapped the card to her index finger. "I want to help in any way I can."

Charlotte smiled slightly and glanced at Cullen who was being lead towards the door by the two guards.

"I can see that," she replied as she turned back to Isabella. "He needs as many friends as he can get at this point."

"Yeah," Isabella muttered.

"We'll speak soon I'm sure," Charlotte added before turning on her heel and following Garrett out into the corridor.

Isabella glanced back down at the card in her hand and exhaled in determination. Yes, she thought, she was definitely going to help all she could.

=PoF=

Cullen was sitting in his usual spot behind the table, ready to start smoking his goddamn overalls, when Isabella walked in.

"Please, for the love of all that is fucking holy, tell me that you have some…"

"Cigarettes," Isabella smiled as she held them up in her hand. "Here ya go, Champ," she said with a small laugh as she threw them at him.

"Fuck yes," he groaned as he pulled them open and grabbed at one quickly.

Isabella ignored the strange sensation in her stomach that occurred at the sound and continued pulling out all her resources. She watched as discreetly as she could as Cullen inhaled the smoke, closed his eyes and breathed it down his nose. He did it twice more before he looked back at her.

"Thanks," he murmured through a smoky haze.

"No problem," she replied quickly with a shake of her head. "You looked like you were ready for one the entire time we were in that other room."

"Yeah, no fucking shit," he retorted, "Fucking Newton."

Isabella smiled and bit her lip, knowing that her response would be picked up, not only by the guard, but by the cameras and their small red flashing lights.

"So," Cullen said in a much calmer tone. "What's on the agenda for today, Peaches?"

Isabella's smile grew a little wider before she cleared her throat and moved around to his side of the table. She glanced quickly at the guard but he appeared unworried by her proximity to his inmate. After Garrett's words to her about people noticing the way her and Cullen behaved around each other, she was even more aware of how she herself acted while she was in his company.

She flattened out the text of _The Merchant of Venice _in front of him and sat back with her own.

"I wanted to have a look at this particular speech," she said as she motioned to the page. "You mentioned it last session and I was interested to hear your interpretation of it."

Cullen looked down at the book and smiled wryly, "This speech? How fucking predictable."

Isabella glared at him and huffed while crossing her arms over her chest.

"Predictable or not," she growled. "It's an important part of the play and I want to hear what you think of it. But maybe your answer will be just as predictable as my speech choice."

Cullen looked at her with a cocked eyebrow. _Motherfucking touché…_

"Ok, Peaches," he said dryly as he sat back in his seat. "I'll bite. What do you want to know?"

She looked down at Act III Scene I of the play and shrugged just as Cullen would have.

"Whatever," she answered nonchalantly. "Amaze me."

"Don't tempt me," he muttered as he blew out the last of what was left of his cigarette and extinguished it in the ashtray.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he answered quickly. "Fine," he sighed in boredom. "The speech is spoken by Shylock."

"Wow," Isabella added sardonically with wide eyes. "Shakespeare scholars the world over will be peeing themselves in excitement at your amazing insight!"

Cullen couldn't help the smirk that graced his face at her sarcasm. She was at her most sexy when she was that way.

"Ok, _Teach_," he replied cockily as he copied her pose. "'_I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The villainy you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.'"_

Isabella's mouth popped open as she listened to him quote the entire speech without looking once at the page in front of him. Hearing him speak Shakespeare's words was without doubt one of the most erotic things she had ever witnessed. His tone changed to one of almost reverence as he spoke and his eyes burned with a passion that Shylock would have no doubt conveyed to the courts as he expressed is anger at the wrong doing that had befallen him.

"Impressed?" Cullen smirked as he reached for another smoke.

"Somewhat," Isabella croaked nonchalantly as she tried her hardest to remain composed. "But you still haven't answered my question."

Cullen laughed lightly and raised his eyebrows. _Clever Peaches…tenacious…sexy…_

"It's mainly about revenge," he said seriously. "He's understandably pissed about the way that he has been treated because of his religion and he vows to match the _'villainy'_ with his own. Only his _'villainy'_ will be a lot fucking worse. Shylock's a bad ass motherfucker."

"So, does that excuse Solanio and Salarino's treatment of him? He's a bad ass motherfucker, surely he deserves everything that comes to him?"

Cullen scoffed. "They're only treating him that way because they are narrow minded shits who see nothing but a label on Shylock. Jew, for them, means evil."

"So, you think they are anti-Semitic?"

"Oh come on," Cullen grumbled. "Give me a fucking break. The anti-Semitism is fucking blatant but that's not the most important aspect of the play…or speech."

"It's not?"

"No," Cullen replied firmly sitting forward in his seat. Isabella felt her face beam as she watched him begin to get passionate about what he was discussing. He was borderline magnificent when he was so focused.

"Shylock says, _'If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die?' _He's making the point that no matter his religion or label or what the fuck ever, he is human just like the bastards that have treated him like shit. People everywhere, every day; make judgments about others because of their color, religion, background, race, sexual preference…criminal history."

He glanced up at Peaches as he spoke his last two words.

"The world is a shitty fucking place, Peaches and it was then too. Shylock is the only one in the entire play with the balls to make a point about it. The irony that the supposed unintelligent, evil, uneducated Jew has such bravery is what makes the shit important. The fact that he's a Jew is simply a plot device, Peaches: Anti-Semitism or any other form of prejudice." He exhaled and rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand. "Shakespeare could have made him a goddamn inmate at Arthur Kill if such a place existed then."

Isabella couldn't pull her eyes from him as he leaned his elbows on the table and finished his cigarette. His passion about the subject was clearly deep-rooted. She wondered briefly what prejudice he had encountered to make him sympathize with the character so much. Had he been treated a certain way because of his time in prison? She hoped not but she was instantly embarrassed when she remembered her own initial thoughts about all the inmates…including Cullen.

"You sympathize with him," she said softly to which he nodded.

He slumped back in his seat, grazing the back of his hand against her knee as he did. He wasn't sure whether it had been intentional or not but dammit her skin felt fucking incredible. He didn't notice that the breath had caught in her throat at the contact.

"People think he's barbaric because he promises revenge but at the end of the day who can blame him. If they have labeled him as such, why shouldn't he live up to it?"

"He could have surprised people," Isabella answered, noticing a definite change in the tone of the discussion. "He could have behaved differently, calmly and shown that he is a…good person."

_You could show how good you are…_

Cullen looked deep into her eyes and shook his head gently.

"It doesn't work that way," he murmured, "If the shoe fits…or the label." He pointed to himself. "Criminal…there's no amount of good that erases that shit. It's easier to live up to people's expectations than try to change them."

Isabella frowned. "So, why are you here and why have I said that I'll help you to get parole and put up with your grumpy, cocky assed shit for another nine months?"

Cullen smiled briefly at her insinuations before shrugging. "I don't know, Peaches. Why did you?"

Isabella looked back at him for a long time before dropping her yes back to the text in her hand.

"I have my reasons," she replied eventually.

"Your own pound of flesh, huh?"

Her head snapped up at his words but he was busy playing with the cigarette box in front of him. He took a deep breath before speaking again.

"And I'm here because…I want to be."

He turned back to her slowly to see the effect his words had had on her and was surprised to see soft brown eyes and a small smile.

"I'm glad," she replied gently as she tucked a lose hair behind her ear.

He nodded slowly, wanting nothing more than to do that himself, and turned back to the cigarette box. "Did you really mean it?" he asked, trying to hide the hope in his voice.

"Did I mean what?"

"That you'll…we'll carry on our sessions." He kept his eyes on his hands but he felt her shift next to him.

"Yes," she answered with a determined tone. "I want to help in any way I can."

Cullen's mouth twitched as he looked back at her. "Why?"

Isabella smiled back at him. "Because, Cullen, I'm a glutton for fucking punishment."

Cullen barked out a laugh that eased the tension that had started to once again surround them.

"Fair enough, Miss Swan," he replied as he slapped a hand to his thigh. "For a moment I thought it was because you just wanted to be near my hot ass without guards and cameras but…you know…whatever," he deadpanned with his hands up in mock understanding.

Isabella cupped her palms to her cheeks. "I am _so_ transparent," she retorted dryly. She couldn't help but laugh at Cullen's small snort. "Now shut up and do this work." She pushed a sheet in front of him that contained specific questions about the speech along with a pen.

"Yes ma'am," Cullen replied with a wink that set parts of Isabella's body into a small frenzy.

No guards or cameras, she mused as she watched him start writing. She let her eyes explore him from the sexy chaos on his head to the sharpness of his stubbled jaw and felt her cheeks warm immediately as her mind began to wander.

_Fuck me, the possibilities are endless…_

**Holy ****parole never sounded so good, Batman!**

**The speech that Isabella and Cullen discuss in this chapter is Act 3 Scene 1 of The Merchant of Venice. I'm sorry if any of you are unfamiliar with it but I have tried to explain it as best as I can through the characters.**

**There are many websites dedicated to this play and that speech in particular if you'd like to learn more about it.**

**Thanks again for leaving me love. Follow me on Twitter (at)sophiejax**

**All comments are appreciated.**

**TTFN xxxx**


	14. Chapter 14

***Grovelling on knees***

**I'm sorry.**

**I'm really, really sorry!**

**What can I say other than…well, sorry?**

**RL has been rubbish and pants but here we are once again. Thank you for the love, PM's, tweets and the thread – you're all amazing. Thank you.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 13****: Complications**

_Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated ~ _**Confucius**

It had been three weeks since Jake Black had sent Paul to Aro's place with an envelope filled with fucking cash and the receipts from the shops takings. Three weeks since Paul had come back looking as white as a goddamn ghost and three weeks since Jake had heard a name uttered that still sent pangs of pain through his entire body – even after nearly a year of not hearing it.

At least, he hadn't heard it since…

…Jake exhaled in annoyance, determined to stop his brain from wandering in that particular direction, and took a much needed gulp from the glass of bourbon that he had been nursing in his hand ever since he had entered the night club thirty minutes before. It was hot and strong as it slipped down his throat and, with two more large mouthfuls, it was empty. He slammed the glass down on the bar and eyed the barman for another.

He was feeling punchy. He had been for three weeks. It was all Paul's fucking fault. No, he thought as he bit the inside of his mouth, it was that motherfucker Aro's fault. For too long he had had Jake over a barrel and it was starting to get really fucking boring.

Jake had good friends, loyal acquaintances and he knew a lot of hard faced motherfuckers that owed him a lot of favours but that all equalled exactly dick when faced with Aro Bartollini and his band of merry men. And that was before Jake even factored in the amount that he owed the bastard.

Jake Black was a drug dealer. He had made a name for himself and was respected in the large circle to which he lavished his plethora of narcotics. He made a lot of money too but that was before…._everything_…and before Aro started taking 70% of everything that Jake made: body shop and drug money. It wasn't that Jake was now hard up; far from it. He still had enough to live in a sweet pad, have nice clothes and bitches hanging from his arms and dick, but it wasn't enough to get out of the bind that Aro held him in or enough to get what he really and truly wanted…

_Her._

He slammed down his empty glass once again, feeling Paul's eyes burning into the side of his head. He ignored him and kept his eyes on the glass that the barman filled before leaving the already half empty bottle at Jake's side.

"Stop it," Paul muttered loud enough for Jake to hear over the music as he sipped his own drink.

"Stop what?" Jake snarled with a sardonic smile.

"You know what," Paul replied firmly as his eyes snapped to the bottle and then back to Jake's face. "Getting fucked off of your face is not what you need right now."

Jake turned towards his friend and leaned against the bar.

"And what the fuck would you know about what I need right now?" he snarled before grinning and pouring another glass.

He liked Paul, he had known him for a lot of years but he didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Cullen would understand if he were here…

"I know that getting shit faced in Aro's club while his fucking Storm Trooper cronies are staring over here, looking like they wanna rip your cock from your body, is _not_ the best idea, Jake," Paul replied while glancing surreptitiously over Jake's shoulder.

Jake frowned and turned to where Paul's eyes were set. Sure enough, Aro's favourite jerking partner, Marcus, was standing, glaring at the two of them over the top of a crowd of people with his arms crossed over his chest like he was fucking God. Jake smiled widely at him and waved by wiggling the tips of his fingers in his direction.

"Motherfucker," he hissed through his teeth as he continued to smile at Marcus's narrowed eyes.

"Jake, you're…"

Jake turned back to Paul to see him shaking his head, seemingly at a loss for words.

"What?" he snapped. "What am I, Paul?"

"Nothing," Paul muttered, really not in the mood for one of Jake's tantrums and pissing contests with a guy with a gun in his waistband.

"No really," Jake baited, moving closer to Paul. "I'd like to know what you were gonna say to me." 

"Jake," Paul warned with a flash of his eyes. "Chill the fuck out."

Jake smirked darkly and pushed Paul's shoulder making him spill his drink on the bar. Paul immediately saw red. He wasn't afraid of Jake the way that others were afraid of him. He knew that it had been a bad idea to join Jake for a drink after seeing him and the mood he had been stuck in for the past few weeks. Paul knew that he would likely get a punch in the jaw for his outburst, but rather him than the huge fucker behind Jake who was now…_fuck_…walking towards them with a glint in his eye

"What's going on here, Black?" Marcus said as condescendingly as he could once he had reached them. Paul bit his tongue and exhaled hard down his nose. _Fucking great…_

Jake's stare left Paul's and immediately met the fucker's standing to his right.

"None of your fucking business, monkey boy," he growled quickly. He looked around Marcus as though looking for someone. "Don't you have a dick to suck somewhere?"

Marcus laughed a deep sarcastic laugh that made Paul swallow and wish for a hole to appear in the floor underneath his shifting feet.

"Oh, Black, you have no idea how much business it is of mine that you are in Aro's club about to start a hair pulling contest with your little bitch here." 

"Fuck you, Marcus," Paul bit back with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you, you little faggot?" Marcus replied while taking a step towards him.

Jake straightened up and stepped in front of Marcus, so close that their chests were almost touching.

"What is your fucking problem?" Jake asked with a furrowed brow.

"_You_ are my fucking problem," he answered with an index finger in his face. "Cullen's ass is rotting in jail and the sooner _you_ fall face first off a cliff the fucking better."

"Not many cliffs in Brooklyn," Jake answered with a mocking shrug of his shoulders. "Sorry about that."

"Well, then maybe a bullet between the eyes might work better?" Marcus sniffed with a twitch of his hand towards his holster. Aro would kill his ass if he did anything to Black, let alone in the middle of his own fucking club but Marcus could practically taste the overwhelming need he had to just end the smarmy little bastard.

Jake gritted his teeth and felt his fists clench at Marcus's words and expression but before he could swing for the fat fuck a small hand was pressing against his chest.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Siobhan purred as she stepped between them. "This isn't very cordial now, is it?"

She looked between the two men who were still glaring daggers at one another and huffed at their lack of attention.

"Now," she pouted with a shimmy of her hips. "Is one of you going to buy my fine ass a drink?"

Jake nodded slowly at Marcus; his jaw flexing in anger…_it's on fucker_…before he turned his face towards Siobhan. He glanced down to see that she was wearing a small black dress that was so understatedly sexy that it screamed hard fucking. He smirked and rubbed his palm down her curves.

"I'll get you a drink, baby. What do you want?"

Siobhan smiled and bit her lip coyly. Jake frowned slightly at her expression. Siobhan was never coy.

"Grey Goose would be just fine, thank you, Jake," she answered as she fingered the centre of his chest.

"Whatever," Marcus muttered with a slight snort. "Fuck you later, Black," he muttered before walking forcefully towards the back of the club, pushing unsuspecting dancers and drinkers out of the way as he did.

"Later, Sweet pea," Jake shouted at his back before turning with a small smile to Siobhan who was rolling her eyes: all coyness gone.

"Christ, Black," she moaned as she shuffled her small ass onto his forgotten bar stool. "Pick the toughest fucker in the place and antagonise him why don't ya?"

Jake laughed and shrugged, garnering a disbelieving stare from Paul. He ignored it and ordered Siobhan's drink.

"So, what the fuck is up with the lip biting, flirty shit?" he asked after he'd sipped from his glass. "Not that I'm against it but you know I'm a sure fucking thing."

Siobhan laughed and lifted her drink. "Marcus has been wanting in my panties ever since he first saw me and I told him to take a hike. I knew it would drive him crazy that I was flirting with you."

Jake shook his head and laughed lightly. "Fucking women," he murmured, "Most dangerous creatures on the planet."

Siobhan lifted her glass and chinked both Paul's and Jake's in agreement.

"So, what the hell brought you here tonight?" Siobhan asked with a perfectly arched eyebrow.

Paul scoffed at the side of her as Jake shot daggers at him.

"I just wanted a drink," Jake answered quickly. "I was also hoping for some good company but," he glanced at Paul again, "I can't have everything I guess."

With that comment poking ruthlessly at his already frayed temper, Paul dropped his glass onto the bar and threw a twenty down alongside it.

"I'm outta here," he muttered. He kissed Siobhan lightly on the cheek, "Nice to see you."

"You too, Paul," she answered with a slight frown.

"Jake," he snapped as he walked past him. Jake sighed and grabbed his friend's elbow.

"Look…," he started, averting his eyes from Paul's. He was fuck awful at apologies or admitting he was in the wrong but he couldn't have Paul leave on bad terms. "I know I'm prick," he stated honestly.

"Yeah," Paul answered sharply. "You are." 

Jake smiled and nodded resignedly. "Thanks for coming."

The heat in Paul's eyes dimmed slightly as he saw the slight flickers of true remorse dance across Jake's face.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said gently before tuning back to Siobhan. "Make sure he keeps his hands to himself and his damned mouth shut."

Siobhan laughed and nodded. "I'll do my utmost."

Paul clapped his hand on Jake's large shoulder and moved through the crowds towards the exit. Jake leaned heavily against the bar and looked down at his feet. Siobhan watched him for a moment. She had never seen him look so desolate. He was usually so virile, so full of life and smart ass comments but now…he just looked lost.

"Hey Jake," she said as brightly as she could with a seductive purr at the end of his name. "What do you say to leaving this shit hole and going back to my place?" She smiled sexily. "I'm sure I could make you feel better."

Jake smiled back but it wasn't the full on mega watt, sex covered one that Siobhan was used to.

"Sure," he answered with a slow nod.

"You don't have to," Siobhan assured him with no hint of bitterness. She knew where their relationship was situated and it was fine with her. She liked Jake _and_ his cock but that was the end of it.

"I know," he replied with a wink.

He threw an obscene amount of money onto the bar and held his hand out for Siobhan to help her step down from the stool. He led her through the dancing, grinding, sweating bodies towards the main doors of the establishment that were - as usual - surrounded by huge fuckers in expensive suits. Jake ignored their stares and muttered jibes and, with his hand still firmly in Siobhan's, they exited the club and made their way to a waiting cab. They didn't speak during the entire trip until the cab stopped outside Siobhan's apartment and Jake thanked and paid the driver.

Siobhan had barely put her purse and keys on the table by the door inside her apartment when she was suddenly pushed against the wall – face first – with Jake's full weight against her back. She gasped and moaned, with her cheek against the chocolate paint as his hands grappled at her dress, pushing it up and pulling her panties down. His palms were frantic against her but she loved it.

Jake fought with his belt and button fly with one hand while he stroked her quickly between her legs. He moaned. She was so wet. She always was for him. He ripped the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolled it home quickly, desperate to feel.

He knocked her knees apart with his own and grabbed her hips before guiding his cock to where they were now both panting with need. Jake needed this. _Fuck_. He just needed it to forget. But, even as he slid into the tight warmth of Siobhan's pussy, filling her to the hilt, all he could think of was the way _she_ had felt around him when they had been together. He groaned but it wasn't in pleasure. His eyes clenched shut and his grip on the woman he was buried in tightened.

He thrust hard and deep in anxious frustration, making Siobhan cry out loudly as she held onto the wall as best as she could as Jake pummelled her into a sweet oblivion.

=PoF=

Isabella sat, twisting the leather handle of her briefcase nervously around her right index finger. She didn't know why she was so nervous. Maybe it was the strong smell of furniture polish of the office waiting area that she was sitting in or the way the receptionist kept giving her strange lingering looks, but she was beginning to feel a little anxious and a lot out of her depth.

_What am I doing here? It might not even be enough? What if she thinks its shit? Oh fuck…_

She was brought from her nervous and self-deprecating inner monologue by the same receptionist calling her name.

"Mrs Clegg will see you now," she murmured haughtily while her eyes flickered to the office door behind her.

"Thanks," Isabella replied sweetly with a flash of her eyes. _Pompous bitch…_

Isabella knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open to see Charlotte rising from her seat with a warm smile. The two women had seemingly struck up an unorthodox relationship in the three weeks since they had initially met at Cullen's parole meeting at Arthur Kill. They spoke regularly on the phone about Cullen's behaviour and conduct during their sessions as well as what Isabella's plans were in terms of her lessons for Cullen, post-parole, and the ways in which she was planning to present them to the parole board.

Charlotte had been happily surprised by the tenacity and determination that Isabella displayed when they spoke. It was clear that Isabella was resolute in her desire to help Cullen achieve parole and although it was something that Charlotte thought of regularly, she never asked Isabella where the drive came from. She knew of Isabella's family and past of course, but said no more about it. She simply admired it and hoped that it was enough to convince the board that Cullen should be released early.

She shook Isabella's hand and gestured for her to sit. "Thank you for coming," she said with another smile.

"No problem," Isabella replied as he sat down and pulled her bag open. "I brought the plans that you asked for."

Isabella laid out a beautifully presented, three inch thick bound booklet on Charlotte's desk and swallowed loudly. _Shit, I hope this is right…_

Charlotte smiled and laughed lightly in surprise as she stared at the booklet before lifting it and opening up the first pages. Inside were lesson plans and resources of all descriptions, appendices, foot notes and a long term syllabus that featured Shakespeare, Donne, Rossetti, Dickens and Hemmingway.

Charlotte was quiet for a while which freaked Isabella out even more. She grabbed for the pack of Tic Tacs out of her jacket pocket and threw two into her mouth as she watched Charlotte peruse the plan in front of her.

_What if it's not enough? Fuck._

Isabella threw a hand through her hair and cleared her throat. She had to be honest; if the plan wasn't enough she may have just cried and screamed bloody murder after all the work that she had put into it. Her social life had been practically none existent for the two weeks that she had been working on it. The only person she had seen regularly was Alice who had been a complete fucking life saver and helped her with the overall syllabus and text choices.

As thanks she had agreed to go to a dinner party that she and Jasper were holding at their new house. Tonight.

_Peter is__ going to be there…_

"Isabella," Charlotte said slowly, interrupting her train of thought.

_Shit, she hates it…_

"Mmhm," Isabella replied as she swallowed her two Tic Tacs, whole.

"This is extraordinarily detailed."

Isabella paused for a moment. "And that's…bad?"

Charlotte laughed. "On the contrary this is excellent and if it doesn't convince the board that you are going to be working Cullen exceptionally hard then I don't know what will."

Isabella laughed in response, praying to every deity in the world that her cheeks hadn't pinked up too much at Charlotte's words. Working Cullen '_exceptionally hard'_ was…a…._nice_….image…

She crossed her legs and smiled tightly, cursing herself and the improper thoughts of her student that had been skulking around her brain for a while. _Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous…_

"I hope so," she offered finally. "I worked hard on it. I've also emailed a copy to Garrett and Mr Hughes, Cullen's lawyer."

"Superb," Charlotte smiled. "I will forward this to the head of the board this afternoon."

"What happens then?" Isabella asked quickly. "I mean, do we hear anything back?"

Charlotte shook her head, "Unfortunately not. We'll not know what their thoughts are until the day of the meeting which has been confirmed as…" She lifted a piece of paper at the back of her desk, "September 13th."

Isabella blinked in surprise at the date and took a deep breath.

"I have also been forwarding all your session details as well as Garrett's." Charlotte paused and sat back in her seat. "It seems that Cullen has been behaving just recently which is a good thing."

"Yeah," Isabella agreed with a smile. "He's been so communicative and focused during our sessions. He really has been working hard and giving his ideas – which are so informed and…" She trailed off when she noticed Charlotte's expression.

"Sorry," Isabella muttered.

Charlotte held a hand up. "Not at all," she laughed. "Your passion for…your work…is inspiring. I can see why Cullen works so hard." _And why he looks at you the way he does_...

"Yeah," Isabella muttered, suddenly feeling inexplicably proud of what she had achieved with Cullen and how much work he had been producing. "His intelligence is as overwhelming as it is surprising."

Charlotte nodded slowly and steepled her hands under her chin, "He had a first rate education…well, until he took the road to criminality." Charlotte shook her head in confusion. Even after all her years as a parole officer she still found it hard to understand why some of her clients did what they did; especially someone like Cullen with his family background.

While Charlotte pondered this, Isabella let the information about Cullen's educational past float around her overactive brain for a while. It was hardly surprising to her when she considered his knowledge and insight in regards to the work that she had given him. He was always opinionated but there was more to it than that. There was a spark within him that seemed to come alight when he spoke about certain aspects of literature or specific characters.

That was when Isabella was most content during their sessions together: when he was engaged and passionate.

Charlotte smiled gently to herself as she watched Isabella's face take an almost serene like expression. Wherever she was, she was very happy there.

"Thank you again for coming in, Isabella," Charlotte said softly as she sat forward in her seat in an attempt to catch her eye.

Isabella's eyes snapped to Charlotte's and she at once felt her cheeks explode with heat. "Um…sure," she said as she cleared her throat. "I'm glad that…that the plan is what you want." She stood from her seat slowly and pulled her bag over her arm.

"It's outstanding" Charlotte replied with a wide smile. "Mr Cullen has a lot to thank you for."

"We'll see," Isabella muttered with a hint of hope at the back of her words. "I'll speak to you soon." She offered her hand to Charlotte which she shook firmly.

"You will, Isabella. Keep up the great work with Cullen."

Isabella smiled and nodded quickly. "I will."

=PoF=

Peter adjusted his shirt, and his hair, and his belt.

He was nervous as shit.

"Dude," Jasper said with a wry smile. "You look nervous as shit." 

Peter rolled his eyes and sipped from his bottle of beer. It was the first time that he was going to see Isabella after their not so disastrous first date. Yes, he had let his mouth run away with him by confessing that he wanted to kiss the hell out of her but it could have been much, _much_ worse. Her reaction to his verbal vomit had been to stammer beautifully but she looked more flattered and embarrassed than sickened at the thought and that – to Peter – _had_ to be a plus.

_Maybe tonight would be the night?_

"Leave him alone," Alice chided Jasper with a shoulder nudge as she placed the salad on the side. She smiled warmly at Peter and scrunched her shoulders like the little match maker she was.

Peter exhaled while making a strange grumbling, strangled sound that made Jasper snort with laughter.

"Chill out, man," Jasper offered with a hand on his brother's shoulder. "It'll be fine."

Peter was about to reply with some smart assed comment but was interrupted by a knock at the door. He swallowed his beer hard and ran a hand through his hair again quickly while Alice hurried past him to answer it. He heard voices and laughter before turning to see a blonde haired guy and an attractive red haired girl walk into the kitchen followed by Isabella who looked…_amazing_…fuck!

He watched as she handed Alice a bottle of red wine and smiled softly when her gaze met his.

"Peter Whitlock," Alice said with a hand on his elbow. His eyes never left Isabella's as she started making the introductions. "This is James Damon and Victoria Ford."

"It's Jamie," Jamie grumbled with a cocked eyebrow at Alice. She smiled sweetly in return.

Peter shook Jamie's hand, noticing a slight tightening around his own as they did, "Nice to meet you."

"Same," Jamie answered and watched as he shook Victoria's too, sizing up the guy who had taken Isabella on a date.

He knew he was a hypocritical fucker for feeling even slightly jealous – being with Victoria and all – but he couldn't help it. Under the stronger feelings that he had for Isabella he cared for her deeply and with that came a sense of duty to protect her from ass wipes that Peter (potentially) could be. He frowned slightly when he realised that the guy before him actually looked pretty decent.

Isabella held the eye roll that was threatening to happen as she watched Victoria smile widely at Peter and tell him how nice it was to meet him. Isabella knew she had been brought up better than the petty immature way in which she was currently feeling but the bitch was as fake as the _Fendi_ bag that she was clutching to her chest like a fucking life line.

It had been bad enough sharing a cab with her and Jamie but she had promised both Jamie and herself that she would _try_ to be nice. At this point she was beginning to think that that particular promise was easier said than done. The girl just rubbed Isabella up the wrong way. It was _that_ simple.

"Isabella," Peter said quietly as he took a step towards her.

"Peter," she replied and held her breath as he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her right cheek.

"You look beautiful," he continued as he let his gaze wander over her. Isabella was surprised that it didn't make her feel uncomfortable but rather warm on the inside.

"Thank you," she said as she rubbed her palms down the sides of her Stella McCartney dress. "You look good too."

Peter smiled and shrugged one shoulder, feigning arrogance, which made Isabella laugh lightly. The truth was he did look really, _really_ good. He had on dark wash jeans and a long sleeved, black button down shirt with the top three buttons undone. He was clean shaven again and his hair was subtly messy. _Safe._

Everyone was given a drink and the conversation flowed politely before Alice and Jasper ushered everyone from the kitchen to the dining room where Alice had spared no expense in making it look stunningly pretty. The theme was Asian which – had no one noticed Alice's oriental style dress - could be seen in the pink orchids and bamboo that were placed in the centre of the table that was also covered in gold cloth.

"You didn't give me chop sticks, right, Alice?" Isabella asked in panic as Peter held her chair out for her.

"No," Alice replied with a small laugh. "You get a fork."

"She barely manages with that," Jamie added with a wide smile.

Isabella shot him a dark look before thanking Peter for holding her seat.

"Maybe you shouldn't be thanking me," he said with a concerned expression.

"Why?" she asked, puzzled.

"Well, I may regret my decision to sit next to you if you struggle using simple cutlery."

The seriousness of his face made Isabella laugh out loud. Peter laughed with her, relieved that his joke had seemingly worked to break the ice. She looked wonderful when she laughed.

Isabella found that she laughed for a lot of the night, as Jasper and Peter regaled the table with stories from their youth before she, Alice and Jamie told stories of theirs. She blushed crimson when Alice spoke of their drunken nights out in college and denied fervently when she was accused of skinny dipping in the college fountain.

"I'd have paid to have seen that shit," Jamie snorted into his beer.

"Me too," Peter mumbled eagerly at Isabella's side as he placed a vegetable roll into his mouth. Isabella ignored the dark look that Victoria had thrown Jamie and stared at Peter in surprise.

"What?" he mumbled around his food with wide, innocent eyes.

Isabella smirked and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Well, it never happened," she denied again. Peter didn't miss the sparkle in her eye as she said it.

"I don't believe that for a second," he countered with a shake of his head.

"Is that so?"

"Absolutely."

Isabella laughed and sipped her drink. Peter was, admittedly, sexy as hell when he was playful. She felt relaxed with him; as though there was no pressure or even that she had known him for longer than the few hours that they actually had. There was a familiarity with him that was comforting. Was she attracted to him?

Yes. Yes, she was.

She swallowed her drink and watched him as he talked with Victoria across the table. He was handsome: very handsome, funny, sensitive and smelled great. He ticked all the boxes that Isabella kept in her head when meeting guys (not that it happened often) but there was something…off?

Something she couldn't put her finger on…

_No. Peter was good. Peter was safe. Safe. Safe. Safe…_

"Isabella?"

She looked from Peter to Alice who was smiling at her with her chopsticks frozen in mid air.

"Yeah?"

"I asked you, how did the meeting with Charlotte go?"

Isabella smiled. "Great," she answered. "I think she really likes it. She said that it was 'outstanding' and that it would go far in helping the board make their decision. So, fingers crossed."

She crossed her fingers and Alice mirrored it.

"Did I miss something?" Jamie asked with a furrowed brow.

"The syllabus and lesson plans for Cullen," Isabella answered. "I presented them to his parole officer, Charlotte today."

Jamie nodded in understanding.

That damn syllabus was the reason that he had hardly seen her for the past two weeks. He was seriously not happy about her continuing on with her sessions with the _infamous _Cullen outside of the prison but he knew that in regards to trying to talk her out of it, he didn't have a leg to fucking stand on. He had promised to be there for her and be as understanding as he could be but damn if it was hard holding his fucking tongue. He smiled as he felt Victoria's hand slip into his under the table and leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her temple.

He, like Isabella, was oblivious to the silent, panicked communication that was passing across the table between Peter and Jasper.

Peter blinked in question. _Could it be…?_

"Um…Isabella, honey," Jasper said calmly with a smile. "Which prison did you say you worked at again?"

"Arthur Kill," she replied without hesitation.

Peter licked his lips and exhaled down his nose as he glanced at his brother. _Fuck!_ Jasper shook his head infinitesimally but was enough to warn Peter from saying anything else. Now was _not_ the time for that shit to be broached.

"And you work with…" Jasper trailed off.

"Cullen," Isabella finished for him.

"That's an odd name," Peter said innocently as he smiled at Isabella.

She smiled in return. "Edward Cullen. But he prefers just Cullen."

Peter took a large gulp from his glass of water.

"We study Literature together," Isabella continued. "Well, I actually work with a lot of students but I have one to one sessions with Cullen and will hopefully continue them when he gets early parole." She crossed her fingers again and laughed as Alice did the same.

"You didn't mention that, baby," Jasper muttered to Alice as she sipped from her drink.

"I was sure I did," his fiancée answered. She frowned at him in question when she saw the tension in his jaw but he smiled at her and shook his head in dismissal. Alice promised herself she would ask him about it later.

"Do you do Shakespeare?" Peter asked calmly as he turned to the beautiful woman at his side.

"We do," she replied. "Currently _The Merchant of Venice_, my particular favourite."

"A pound of flesh?" Peter asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The very same," Isabella answered.

"Well," Peter continued as he placed his forearm on the back of Isabella's chair. "We all have one."

Isabella looked at him in surprise but he simply smiled back, his eyes gentle and honest. "That we do."

The meal, for Alice, was a complete success. She disliked Victoria pretty much on sight but it was nice seeing Jamie. He hadn't changed a bit. He was still an adorable smart mouthed son of a bitch. She just couldn't understand why he was with the girl he was. She knew that nothing would ever develop further between him and Isabella but Victoria just seemed to be bad news.

Isabella had told her all about the infamous red head but she had put her tone and annoyance down to slight jealousy on Isabella's part but damn if she wasn't right about her. Admittedly, Victoria _had_ been exceedingly conversational and polite but there was something about her that Alice just couldn't put her finger on.

Peter and Isabella on the other hand were a complete win, which was confirmed when Peter offered Isabella a ride home. Alice had been concerned about Isabella since the day that she had found her in her apartment, falling to pieces over a nightmare that she had had. They had talked for hours that morning and the name Cullen had come up frequently.

Alice knew that Isabella loved her job but it was also clear to her that she was getting emotionally involved with her student and that spelled trouble. She had jumped at the chance to help her with the syllabus and the plan. Even though it was for Cullen and his impending parole meeting, she knew that the more focused on the plan that Isabella was, the less focused she would be on thinking about Cullen and the dream that had broken her so much.

She just hoped that she had been focused on something else for long enough. Peter, she hoped, was something else for her friend to focus on. They were both great people and Alice knew that they were fairly perfect for each other. If only Isabella would open herself up long enough to see it herself.

Feeling fairly pleased with himself, Peter held his car door open for Isabella and watched – glancing quickly at her bare legs – as she climbed in. He hurried around the car and slid in himself, starting the car up and putting it in gear with only a smile in Isabella's direction.

"You have good taste in music," Isabella noted as the CD changed from one high-quality song to another.

"Um…thanks," Peter replied. "I love music but I don't get to indulge it much, other than when I'm in the car."

He looked at her for a moment as she hummed along with the music coming from his stereo and sneakily turned it down so that he could hear more of her voice. They spent the rest of the twenty minute car journey this way; comfortably happy to share the silence once the music stopped.

Peter put the car into park and turned off the engine when they reached the outside of Isabella's building. Isabella slowly unclipped her belt and reached for her purse from the foot well.

"Thank you," she said as she tucked her hair behind her ear. She felt nervous and her stomach felt heavy. She cleared her throat to try and push the odd sensation away. _It's Peter. Peter is safe._

"No problem," Peter replied before clearing his own throat. "I had a good time."

"Me too," Isabella answered honestly. She met his gaze and smiled gently.

Peter smiled back. "It was great to see you again."

Isabella nodded. "It was," she agreed. It _had_ been nice seeing Peter.

Did she want to see him again? Yes. _Maybe?_

She looked up at him and her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were determined, dark and sexy as hell and the only other sound in the car as well as her heart thumping was the sound of the leather seat creak as he slowly leaned towards her. She didn't move. She wasn't sure that she could. The juxtaposing feeling of wanting to bolt but also wanting to stay exactly where she was, sent a shiver up her back.

Peter stopped with his face only two inches from hers. His own heart was thumping in his chest and had he not had his wits about him, he may have laughed out loud at his own ridiculousness.

_Grow the fuck up, Whitlock. Kiss the girl!_

"Isabella," he murmured before – seeing no rejection in her body language or expression – leaned closer until his lips finally found hers.

Isabella stayed still as their mouths moulded. It felt…soft…warm…nice…

After a moment of stillness, Peter cupped her left cheek before opening his mouth slightly which, much to his excitement, Isabella reciprocated by opening hers. She tasted sweet and smelled even better and, as he deepened the kiss further, he realised he hadn't been as hard as he was in that moment since the first time he had ever had sex.

_Jesus Christ, this woman…_

Isabella began to lose herself in the sensation of kissing Peter and was as surprised as he was when she moaned softly when their tongues touched. Her hand found the back of his head and she shuffled closer to him on her seat. The sound of the leather creaking added to the highly sexed atmosphere that filled the car. The feeling in her stomach twisted but she fought to ignore it. She hadn't kissed anyone in so long.

Why should she deny herself this? Who was she denying herself for?

Peter hummed as Isabella's tongue rubbed his and he sucked its tip before she withdrew it from his mouth. It was without doubt the hottest kiss he had ever experienced and had he allowed himself, he would have had little problem in pulling her onto his lap and burying himself as deep as he could inside of her. _Patience._

His hand dropped slowly from her cheek and rubbed down her bare arm as they moved together, synchronised with their heads moving from one side, before changing slowly to the other. His hand met her knee and he moaned deep in the back of his throat at the feel of her soft skin.

_You're pushing it, Whitlock…_

His palm rubbed gently across the skin of her knee before moving slowly up the outside of her thigh. Isabella tensed slightly but moaned again when his finger tips danced under the hem of her skirt which sent another shot of want up Peter's cock. He was holding on to his gentlemanly virtues by the skin of his teeth and he hissed loudly when Isabella's nails scratched his scalp as his hand travelled further up her thigh.

He wanted to touch her, feel her…fuck, he wanted to _taste_ her.

He managed to loosen his lips from hers for one split second so that he could clear his head of the overwhelming lust that was filling his brain and groaned her name in both want and mercy.

"Isabella." He leaned his forehead against hers. "We either need to stop right now or…Jesus, I want you so much."

Isabella blinked at his words and leaned back from him, seeing the lust and truth of his words on his entire face. The heavy breaths that she was taking and the moisture and heat between her legs told her that she wanted him too but tonight was not the night.

It had been so long and…the _feeling_ in her stomach…she grunted in annoyance under her breath.

_Fuck you, you fucking feeling…_

She had only known Peter a total of ten hours and although he was one of the nicest most genuine men she had ever met, she wasn't about to lose herself in a night of crazy fucking. That wasn't her. She hadn't had a man in her bed for a long, long time but that wasn't an excuse to be wanton.

"I think we should slow down," she said finally as she moved back in her seat slightly.

Peter didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Yeah," he agreed a little begrudgingly. He would never ever force any woman to do anything that they didn't want to but goddamn…Isabella wasn't just any woman.

He exhaled in what sounded like relief and shifted back in his own seat, discreetly pressing his crotch, willing the ache to dissipate. He rubbed his hands down his face and chuckled into his palms.

"What's funny?" Isabella asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Nothing," he answered as he looked back at her. "I just…I feel a little relieved."

Isabella tried to hold back the slight feeling of rejection that stung her chest but failed miserably.

"No! No!" Peter almost yelled when he saw her face drop. "Christ, Isabella, I didn't mean it like that."

Isabella was confused. "Then what did you mean?"

Peter sighed and gently placed his palm over hers that were lying on her lap. "I think I've made it pretty clear that I like you. A lot."

Isabella blushed slightly and dropped her eyes from his.

"It's been a while since I was…intimate with anyone other than my wife and…" He laughed in embarrassment when Isabella looked back up at him. "I'm a little nervous about…being with you and…pleasing you."

The heat in Isabella's face hit nuclear but she found herself giggling quietly. Peter saw her smiling face and couldn't help but join her.

"Pathetic, right?" he asked in between coughs of laughter.

"Not at all," she answered as she calmed herself. "It's sensitive and…sexy."

Peter's eyes widened slightly at her words and dammit all to hell his hard on was back with a vengeance.

"Sexy?" he asked with raised eyebrows. Isabella nodded.

"But I know what you mean," she said softly. "It's been…a while for me too…and I think that…maybe we should take things slowly?"

She asked it as a question because, had he been an ass to her suggestion she knew that the niceties would come to an abrupt halt.

But of course he wasn't an ass. Instead he smiled and lifted her hand to his mouth He planted a soft kiss on her knuckle and nodded.

"Slowly works for me," he agreed. He was surprised at the honesty behind his own statement. He wanted this woman on a level he had never encountered but if she wanted to take things slow he would do it.

"Good." Isabella pulled the handle the car door. "Goodnight Peter."

"Goodnight Isabella."

He watched as she climbed out of the car and walked through the doors of her building before she disappeared into the elevators at the back of the lobby. Once she was out of sight he dropped his head back onto the rest of his seat and groaned with a mixture of pleasure and pain. The ache in his cock was still phenomenally prevalent and he shifted from side to side to try and ease it with little success.

"Fuck," he muttered as he started the car and set of towards home a little faster than was legally allowed.

He knew that he had promised to take things slowly with Isabella but that sure as shit didn't mean that he couldn't jerk off like hell in the mean time.

=PoF=

_I can't see him. I can never see him but __I can feel him near me. Smell him._

_I can feel his breath on my neck as he begins to speak._ "You need me don't you?"

"Fuck yes."

"Say it."

"I need you."

"I can't hear you."

"I need you, please."

"I still can't hear you."

"Fuck! I need you! _Please_!"

"_Where_ do you need me?"

"Fucking everywhere."

"Be. More. Specific."

"On me. In me. Over me. _Please_."

"But you think I'm dangerous."

_Fuck._

"Didn't you say that I was dangerous?"

"I…I…"

"And if I'm dangerous maybe it's better if we didn't do this."

_I grapple out for him, clawing in desperation._

"NO! Oh God, no! I…I need you!"

_Fuck, I need to feel him. Please__._

"You want safe."

"NO!"

_Oh God just be inside me._

"I'm dangerous."

"I don't care! I don't fucking care!" 

"You don't care? You don't want safe?"

"NO! I need you. I want you."

"How much?"

"So much. I ache for you."

"You ache?"

"Christ you have no idea."

"Show me where."

_I push my hands down my body and gasp as my __own fingers meet my clit. He growls and the sound makes my back arch off of the bed._

"Fuck, you're so wet for me."

"Always."

"In that case."

_I moan as I feel his body crawl over mine and his weight press deliciously onto me. I moan and grab at his broad shoulders. I feel his cock tease my pussy._

"Now! I can't wait!"

_I arch and grind my hips, gasping as he slips the tip of himself into me.__ Finally._

"So tight. So wet."

"More."

"Do you still ache?"

"Yes. More."

_He pushes further.__ Finally. Oh. My. God. Finally. His mouth is at my ear._

"Peaches."

_I freeze for a second before a guttural moan leaves me as he pushes himself all the way inside of me. He fi__lls me. Goddamn does he fill me. Every inch. And with every move his hips make the more my ache disappears._

"Dangerous never felt so good, huh?"

"So good."

"Say it, Peaches."

"I…"

"I need to hear it."

"I…"

"Say it. OUT LOUD!"

"Oh God!"

"SAY IT!"

"Oh fuck, CULLEN!"

The sound of the name that she had yelled at the height of her orgasm was still reverberating around the furniture of her bedroom as Isabella shot up out of her bed, her fingers still on her pussy that was soaked and throbbing in the aftermath of her release. She pulled her hands from her panties and grasped her chest that was just about ready to explode.

Panting, she looked around herself, confused, dazed and knowing unequivocally that she was totally and utterly fucked.

**Holy sweet baby orgasms, Batman!**

**Parole can't cum *snigger* fast enough! Tweet me (at)sophiejax**

**Leave me love…or hate, whichever.**

**TTFN xxx**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello!**

**No, your eyes don't deceive you, this ****is**** an update.**

**I'm gonna be super busy this weekend so I thought I'd post tonight instead of waiting until Sunday. **

**I hope that's ok with ****all of you? *smirk***

**A Pound of Flesh has been nominated for Most OOC story at the Glove Awards. I'd love your vote if you have the time and the love for the story.**

**I think you'll like this chapter.**

**Seeing as there was zero Cullen action in the last one, I obviously felt the need to make it up to you with this…**

**See you on the other side.**

**Chapter 14: Light at the End**

"_It's choice-not chance-that determines your destiny."_ ~ _**Michellee Jean Nidetch**_

"Fucker!"

"Cock!"

"_Mother_fucker!"

"Cock_sucker_!"

"Shithead!

"Shit_house_!"

"Bitch!"

Cullen paused immediately and stood slowly from his stooped position, halting the basketball by grasping it in one large hand. He pushed his sweat soaked hair from his forehead with the other and cocked a puzzled eyebrow above narrowed eyes at Emmett who was panting with gritted teeth and red cheeks, eyeing the basketball like a dog with a prime rib steak.

Cullen watched him for at least twenty seconds before realisation passed over the big fuck's face and he shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

"What the fuck you waiting for?" he growled, standing a little straighter.

"Did you just call me bitch?" Cullen asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Emmett stood to his full height and glared back at him. He sniffed and glanced around at the two other inmates who had been playing the fast paced - almost violent - game of basketball for the past forty minutes, who had both begun to shift uneasily from one foot to another before levelling his stare back at Cullen.

"Yeah," he answered, jutting his chin out in defiance. "I did. So fucking what?"

Cullen frowned and then smirked.

"Just checking," he replied before launching the basketball over Emmett's head to his partner Greg who caught it and threw it, like a goddamn pro, through the hoop, winning the game by two.

"COME ON!" Cullen roared with clenched fists as he ran over to Greg and grabbed him roughly around the neck before rubbing his knuckles a little too vigorously over the fucker's head, "MY MAN!"

"You fuckin' cheat!" Emmett yelled with a pointed finger. "You…you fucking _cheated!_"

Cullen laughed and shook his head as he released a relieved Greg. "Losing without dignity or grace is not attractive, McCarty," he commented as he sauntered cockily towards him.

"Yeah?" Emmett questioned with his tongue planted in the right side of his mouth. "Well, Cullen, I may not have dignity or grace but I sure as hell have a fist for your face and a foot for your cheating fucking ass."

Cullen stopped mid step, caught the glint in Emmett's eye and within seconds was running like a bat out of hell across the court as Emmett lunged his two hundred plus frame in his direction.

"Come here you fucking pussy!" Emmett cried as he chased Cullen's skinny ass around the tables and incredulous looking inmates and guards.

Cullen panted as he weaved and ducked from the ape's grasp, unable to keep the huge fucking smile off of his face. Emmett the motherfucking loser_._ _Cough._ Christ, I need to quit fucking smoking!

His overwhelming happiness and smug satisfaction was halted abruptly when he realised that he had nowhere else to go and was facing a brick wall with an equally huge human one gaining quickly on him. _Fuck_.

He spun around to face his pursuer and plead surrender, to feel every inch of air that was in his lungs leave him in a huge gust and a loud strangled groan, as Emmett ploughed hard into him. _Ribs!_

Emmett grabbed him in a head lock before Cullen could even blink or protest and was dragged back, groaning and digging his heels in, to the centre of the yard where even the guards were laughing and jeering at the punk ass that was cursing through an almost crushed wind pipe.

"Emmett," Cullen gasped as he grabbed at the tree trunk forearm that was around his neck. He knew that Emmett would never hurt him but the power that he felt around his neck was humbling to say the very fucking least.

"I'm sorry, what?" Emmett asked loudly as he leaned his head closer to Cullen's. "I don't speak 'cheating fucker.' You'll have to speak clearer."

Cullen couldn't help but let out a choked bark of a laugh. "Emmett," he pleaded as he gripped his wrist with his long fingers. "Man, please! I'm…dammit, fuck, Emmett, I'm sorry!"

Emmett smiled and winked at the crowd that had gathered and released the scrawny neck that had been resting comfortably in the crook of his arm. He made sure that Cullen didn't fall or stumble as he did and smirked when Cullen stood up straight, rubbing at his collarbone and right ear.

"Cunt," Cullen muttered as the crowd dispersed disappointedly when they realised that it was really all in good fun and that no-one's ass was going to get handed to anyone.

Emmett snorted. "Cheat"

"Touché," Cullen conceded with a wry smile.

"Yo, Miss S!" Emmett suddenly boomed, making Cullen jump and roll his eyes.

He turned around to see Peaches, looking beautiful as always, walking from her car - half hidden by a huge bag - towards the main entrance, waving discreetly towards Emmett who was doing the complete opposite of discreet with his arms and hands. Cullen let the right side of his mouth rise in a small smile in her direction and frowned gently when she dropped her head and scurried on her way. _Shit_. Cullen couldn't help but rub his stomach slightly as a twinge of…something made its presence known. It had happened a few times just recently.

Emmett sighed and dropped his arms to his side. "What was that about?" he asked when he noticed Cullen's face. It almost looked as though the fucker had been chewing the shit out of a damn lemon.

Cullen shrugged in response. "You got me," he answered nonchalantly with a little more concern in his voice than he really wanted Emmett to notice.

He looked up to see Emmett staring at him, waiting for an explanation. Cullen exhaled and rubbed his face before waking over to their regular seat and pulling out the cigarette he had snagged from Greg's pocket as they had tussled.

He lit his smoke, inhaled, held it and then exhaled with a shake of his head. "She's been weird for a couple of weeks," he confessed, nodding towards the car lot.

"Miss Swan?" Emmett clarified to which Cullen nodded and passed the smoke over to him.

Cullen had tried to ignore Peaches' behaviour but it had been getting progressively harder with each session that they had together. It had started not long after the initial parole meeting with Charlotte. She had come into the session room, barely looking or speaking to him for the entire hour that they had together. Strangely, Cullen hadn't pushed the issue, sensing that it was something that he maybe didn't want to know about.

"Do you think it has something to do with your parole?" Emmett asked as he passed the cigarette back.

Cullen swallowed and once again feigned indifference with a shrug, even though the truth was that he was petrified that _that_ was the reason behind her…_distance…_from him. Maybe she was regretting agreeing to tutor him outside of the facility? Maybe she wanted to pull out but didn't know how to?

Cullen was no stranger to being let down but fuck, could Peaches really be like that? He had mulled the possibilities over and over but had been unable to verbalise them to her. What if she answered with what he thought she would? He hated the feeling of powerlessness that she brought to him. It wasn't even the thought of not being granted parole – even though that would suck fat fucking ass- it was more to do with the fact that he wouldn't have a legitimate reason to see his Peaches outside of Arthur Kill.

He cleared his throat and blew the smoke down his nose in a huff of annoyance, knowing that the circle he was going in, inside his head, would not change one fucking iota until he said something to her.

"Just ask her, Cullen," Emmett offered, as he looked out towards the fields at the back of the facility.

Cullen snorted and shook his head. _If only it was that fucking easy,_ "Yeah sure, Emmett."

Emmett looked at him. He looked seriously fucking troubled. Emmett wasn't stupid and had heard some whispers of _something_ around the cells about Cullen and the delectable Miss Swan but he had never been one for idle gossip so had stayed his ass the hell out of that shit.

Seeing the face of the motherfucker next to him now however, there may have been some truth to the 'Beauty and the Social Beast' label that had been doing the rounds.

He clicked his tongue in Cullen's direction, garnering his attention and smirked.

"Pussy," he murmured.

_Fact._ "What the fuck ever," Cullen retorted, dragging the last of the smoke for all it was worth into his lungs before blowing it into Emmett's smug bitch face, "Loser."

_There the fucker is_. Emmett's booming laughter lifted the moment and his palm slamming into Cullen's back in jest ensured his determination to confront her that very afternoon.

But, fuck it all to fucking Satan's fucking orgy party - because that's where Cullen's ass was winding up - if she wasn't wearing the sexiest grey pencil skirt and white silk blouse when she walked into the session room five hours later, making all the coherent thoughts and blood in his head run in one very specific direction on his body.

_And, fuck me sideways, I can se__e her bra. Again._

Her ass was resplendent and her legs…? _Fuck. _Three words came to his mind when he looked at them…_hips or neck…_because those were the only two places on his own body that Cullen could ever think of them being wrapped around. _And cue cock twitch._

It annoyed Cullen to the depths of forever and beyond that he was still unable to control his desire around her. _Yes,_ she _was_ beautiful and sexy as all hell but that was hardly a new fucking development. He had even tried to curtail the self loving in an attempt to stop sexualising her in his own mind but fuck it, she didn't fucking _help_ matters!

Her clothes, her hair, her face, her sass, all of it just made him want her _more_. At this point it would be really fucking helpful if she would just wake up looking and acting entirely fucking different.

_No_. No, he didn't want that shit.

He exhaled and mumbled something profane under his breath as Isabella dropped the resources _and_ Cullen's smokes onto the table between them.

"Something wrong?" she asked with a quick glance in his direction.

_Your ass, legs, face__…_

Cullen chuckled into his hands and shook his head, "Nothing at all, Miss Swan." He waved his hand at her. "Carry on."

She frowned at him for a moment, curious as to his seeming frustration about something, but couldn't help but feel slightly relieved that he wasn't looking directly at her. Ever since she had had…_the_…dream and the subsequent one after it and…um…the one after that one she had been officially in hell. They were a damn sight better than the nightmares that she _hadn't_ had in the two weeks since the dirty ones had started but shit in many ways they were just as worse!

How the hell could she have such erotic, sexy, mind blowing dream sex with a man that she had known for a little over two months? And what the _hell_ was she going to do about the fact that she was to continue seeing him for at least another nine months – potentially – _outside _of the guarded, well monitored, keep-your-hands-to-yourself-and-we'll get-along-fine environment of Arthur Kill?

Not that she would ever dream of putting herself _or_ Cullen in a position such as that. No fucking way. She was still his tutor and he was her student. She was in a trusted position and she wouldn't jeopardise what she had worked so hard to build.

_Yes_, he was a very attractive man and the danger element was…something that _all_ women gravitated to but she wasn't stupid. It would only ever be the dream version of Edward Cullen that entered her or her bed at night. She felt her cheeks blush scarlet at that thought and tried her damnedest to hide her face in the bag that was in front of her.

Cullen cupped his face in his hands and watched her almost bury herself inside the Mary Poppins freak show bag that she had brought with her. He sighed and reached out for the smokes that she had brought, asking for a light from the guard who was looking equally concerned that the tiny brunette was going to end up ass over tit inside the cavernous monstrosity in front of her.

"Peaches," Cullen muttered around the filter of the smoke that was resting on his bottom lip. His name for her had stuck well and he used it fairly liberally. Deep down he was fucking stoked that she let him get away with it without questioning how or why.

"Mmhm?" came the mumbled reply from the dark depths.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Isabella froze and sighed as she rose slowly from the bag and gave a small, embarrassed smile, "Just…um, looking for something."

Cullen smirked. "What, Jimmy Hoffa's neck tie?" He snorted and raised his eyebrows at the guard who hid his laugh behind his right hand.

Isabella narrowed her eyes at the two of them and huffed in annoyance.

"No, smart ass," she responded icily. _I was hiding my red cherry cheeks from you…_

She pulled out her chair that was next to him as she now did every session and laid Cullen's work out in front of the two of them. She took a deep breath before explaining the comments that she had given him and asking questions that had been raised in his answers. They were still very much involved in '_The Merchant of Venice_,' which had surprised Isabella. She had been convinced that Cullen would want to move on from it quickly but he continued to expand his ideas and find new avenues and aspects of the play to discuss with her.

Isabella loved their discussions. They still became heated at times, but that was what was fun about them. They argued over Shylock and whether or not he was a sympathetic character for three sessions straight and debated thoroughly whether there were homoerotic undertones of the relationship between Antonio and Bassanio. Cullen had been very much on the yes side of the fence. "Fags," he had murmured petulantly while Isabella had smirked behind a disapproving look.

"You say here that the character of Portia is the most intelligent character in the play but you don't explain why," Isabella said as she read over Cullen's work while he watched her tuck her hair behind her ear. Isabella could feel his eyes on her and licked her lips as her throat once again went dry.

"Could you…um…could you explain?" she stammered as she sat back in her seat, putting some distance between the two of them while averting her stare from his.

Cullen couldn't help but get aggravated by the movement. She was fucking doing it again.

"Why do you do that?" he blurted before he realised what he was saying. _Shit._

Isabella looked surprised and confused. "I'm sorry?"

_You may as well keep going, fuck wit…_

"That," he repeated, pointing at the way she was sitting. "Why did you move away like that?"

Cullen suddenly realised that he not only sounded like a petulant teenager but also utterly inappropriate. His eyes widened slightly when after a few seconds she hadn't answered.

"Forget it," he murmured as he pulled his work closer towards him.

"No," Isabella said firmly as she placed her hand on the same piece of work. Cullen's eyes met hers. They were so beautifully green. "What did you mean, Cullen?"

He sighed and mumbled again as he grabbed the pack of smokes and inhaled the smoke deeply after it had been lit. Isabella waited patiently, knowing that, with Cullen, sometimes time was all he needed for him to open up.

"Are you wigging out because of my parole?" he snapped through a haze of smoke.

His question shocked the hell out of her but he didn't give her time to respond.

"Because, truthfully, I would much rather you just be honest with me and tell me now before next week. I mean, fuck, I don't wanna be standing there in front of those smug fuckers all hopeful and shit for you to turn around and say that you ain't gonna see this shit through because of…whatever."

He pulled on the cigarette and watched her face as it changed beautifully from surprise, to annoyance, to a small smile.

Isabella blinked at the man in front of her and opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

How could he think that she would wig out on him? Hadn't she proved her commitment to his case and parole with all the work that she had been doing with him? And more to the point who the_ hell_ in their right mind uses the fucking term _wig_ anyway?

"Wigging out?" she questioned with a cocked eyebrow and sly smile. "Did you say…wigging out?"

Cullen felt his cheeks heat slightly and shifted in her seat, "Yeah…so? Don't deflect, Miss Swan."

Her smile grew. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of deflecting, Mr Cullen." 

_Yeah_, Cullen thought. _Sexy. As. Fuck_.

Her smile lasted for a few seconds before it dropped slightly in worry and…guilt?

"Why do you think that I wouldn't see this through? What gave you the impression that I didn't want to help you get parole?" Her voice was quiet but firm. She really wanted to know and that scared him a little.

He shrugged, feeling a little stupid and a lot hot.

"I don't know. Shit, you just seem…_different_…like you're worried about something or…fucking nervous. I didn't know whether it was the thought of carrying on with our sessions that had you freaking out."

He hid the hurt in his voice well but his eyes defied him as they dropped quickly to the table. He had noticed her distance. He had noticed that she was different with him because of the dreams that he had been having. She suddenly didn't know whether to feel flattered or terrified that he noticed at all. She swallowed down her panic and moved closer to him.

"Cullen," she said as reassuringly as she could while fighting the overwhelming feeling inside of her that told her to touch his stubbled jaw to ease him. "I'm here for the long haul. I really want to help you get parole and I want to keep our sessions going."

Cullen let his eyes meet hers slowly. She smiled and nodded as further proof that her words were true.

"I'm sorry if I have made you doubt that."

Cullen's stomach twisted gently again at her apology. He wasn't used to apologies and they made him uncomfortable. He began to shake his head in disagreement of her obvious remorse but she held her hand up.

"No, Cullen, I mean it."

He watched her as she took a deep breath and moved still closer to him. "I'm sorry if you thought I would let you down. I won't. My word is all I have but I assure you that you can count on it 100%."

Isabella was surprised at the fervour of her own words but knew in her heart that she meant every one of them. Pound of flesh or not, she was going to help Cullen and _no-one_ could change that.

It took a moment for Cullen to re-find his voice. "OK," he croaked, entirely blown away by her and her promise.

Isabella smiled gently and sat back in her seat, satisfied that he believed her. They both sat quietly for a few moments allowing an unknown atmosphere to settle around them. Even though it was different to what usually surrounded the pair, neither one of them found it uncomfortable.

"Are you very nervous about next week?" Isabella asked eventually after watching him put his cigarette out.

He shook his head and shrugged one shoulder. "It's not like I haven't done it before." 

Isabella held her eye roll and nodded. "It's my first time," she offered.

Cullen laughed lightly. "You'll do fine," he said with a slight wink. "Just think Portia and you'll be great."

"The most intelligent character in '_The Merchant of Venice'_ as says Cullen." Isabella said, strangely aware of the flirty undertones of her voice.

"Well, she did save Shylock," Cullen responded, only half meaning to say that shit out loud.

The metaphor was not lost on Isabella. She knew that Cullen saw himself as less because of his life choices much like people saw Shylock as less because of his religion. The comparison was tenuous but to Cullen, Isabella knew, it was very real.

"That she did," Isabella agreed quietly as her eyes left his and landed on his work. "If we're talking characters in literature I'm not sure that Portia is the right one for me to be compared to."

"Oh no?" Cullen asked as he crossed his arms over his chest, showing the edges of the ink under his t-shirt. "Who were you thinking then? The Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland? Hecate from Macbeth?" He clicked his fingers as inspiration hit him. "The Ice Witch in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?"

Isabella ignored his jibes about her being a witch or a homicidal Queen and instead grabbed her pen and began to make a fake shopping list.

"No," she deadpanned as she wrote. "But thanks for reminding me what I need from the store…axe, cauldron and Turkish Delight."

Cullen couldn't help but laugh at her as she glared sarcastically at him before throwing the pen at his chest.

"OK, OK," he said in between small chuckles that made his whole face light up. "Seriously, who would you choose?"

Isabella took a deep breath and began to draw invisible circles on the table with the tip of her index finger.

"That's easy," she replied. "I would want to be Walter, the lazy mouse."

Cullen look slightly puzzled. "Not a velvteen rabbit or a spider named Charlotte?"

Isabella laughed gently and shook her head. "No. The girls at school used to read those but for me…it was always Walter." She turned towards Cullen slightly. "Do you know the story?"

He did, vaguely, but Peaches looked so animated that he couldn't help but shake his head in the hopes that she would continue talking about it.

"Walter was a very lazy mouse."

She began as though she had heard the story so many times she could tell it without turning a page.

"He was so lazy that he would never get up for school or go out with his family or play with his friends and soon they all forget about him. His family move away one day while Walter is asleep."

Cullen slumped slightly in his chair, finding the sound of her voice lull him into a relaxed and calm place that he hated to admit that he liked a little too much.

"He decides to look for his family," Isabella continued. "He meets many creatures on his travels, including frogs who can't read or write. Walter tries to teach them but because he missed so much school through sleep, he can't remember how to."

Isabella's face suddenly took on a sad, faraway look that made Cullen sit forward in his seat.

"Peaches," he practically whispered.

Her eyes slowly came back to the room but they were now tinged with a sadness that made Cullen feel utterly helpless and as a result angry at himself.

"My dad…" Isabella continued after a moment through a thick throat. "He used to read it to me when I was a little girl."

Cullen's heart slammed in his chest and he took in a ragged breath as an image of that night fifteen years ago flashed before his eyes.

_Holy shit.__ That was why she said what she did that night…that's what she said…it was the damn story…_

"Yeah?" he managed to which she nodded in reply.

"He used to do the voices and…he made the scary and sad bits…not so scary and sad."

Cullen swallowed hard and folded his arms on the table in front of him, closer still to the woman at his side. "He sounds…he sounds like a good guy."

A small flicker of a smile crossed her face at his words. "He was," Isabella agreed. "He would say that no matter what the obstacles, if I was determined like Walter, I could do anything I put my mind to."

Isabella felt the familiar prick of tears at the back of her eyes and was suddenly mortified that she had said so much and was now on the verge of tears. She coughed and sniffed to hide the emotion and ran both her hands through her hair, desperate to shake off the unwanted feelings of loss.

"And did you?" Cullen asked, taking her by surprise.

She stopped her movements and nervously laid her hands on her lap. "Did I what?"

"Did you do whatever it was you put your mind to no matter what the obstacles?"

Isabella smiled and dipped her chin, looking embarrassed. "I'm here aren't I?"

Cullen smiled and nodded. "Yes, you are," he agreed. _And thank fuck for that…_

He noticed her eyes go to the wall behind him and cursed under his breath. _Times up._

Cullen watched - trying to feign indifference but silently mad as hell that she had to go - as she started to pack up her belongings into the Tardis bag and blew smoke out from between his lips while shaking his head in awe.

_That__ fucking thing could have sunk the Titanic for fuck's sake._

"I might have a look for that book in the prison library, you know," he said casually as she dropped her pens into said bag. "Do you think Arthur Kill library would stock children's literature or is that just wrong on a few levels?"

Isabella suppressed a smile.

"Shit," he continued, slapping his palm to his forehead. "What the fuck am I talking about? Emmett probably has it hidden under his pillow to read on those cold lonely nights. I'll ask him."

At this, Isabella had to laugh out loud for the image of Emmett McCarty sitting in bed reading Walter the lazy mouse was just too funny for words. Cullen smiled too at the sound that echoed around him. He loved watching her smile and laugh. She looked at her most beautiful and least self conscious.

"In all seriousness," she said as she pulled her bag onto her shoulder. "If you _do_ find a copy…would you let me know? I lost mine."

The heartbreak on her face was clear to see, even to the guard who promised himself silently that he would hunt The Strand bookshop high and low that very night.

"I will," Cullen answered sincerely.

Isabella smiled and turned towards the door.

"Hey Cullen," she called as the guard unlocked the door for her.

"Yeah?" he called back.

"Thanks for today."

He smiled to himself and slumped back in his seat as the door closed slowly behind her.

"Any time, Peaches," he whispered to the empty room.

=PoF=

The nervous energy that filled the room that Isabella was standing in a week later was almost visible around her.

"It's going to be fine," Garrett said to no-one in particular. Isabella looked at him to see him looking far too calm and collected as did Mr Hughes who simply looked inconvenienced. He kept glancing at his watch at regular thirty second intervals that annoyed the hell out if Isabella every time. _You're being paid you fucking idiot!_

The door to the room opened suddenly and Charlotte walked in, followed by Mike Newton who had pulled out the pinstripe suit for his day in the spotlight.

"Ten minutes," Charlotte said quickly.

"How is he?" Isabella asked before she could stop herself.

Charlotte smiled. "He's Cullen," she replied as she placed her bag on the chair nearest to her. Isabella smiled back. "His psyche exam was fine as we all knew it would be and his address and employment have already been verified by the board. Because Cullen's sentence was less than four years the speed at which the decision is made is much quicker. None of us may even have to speak, Isabella. It's looking like it'll be a no-brainer."

Charlotte nodded in assurance but it didn't do much to settle the carnival that was taking place in Isabella's chest.

"OK," Isabella muttered just as her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket.

She pulled it out to see a message from Peter. She hadn't seen him since their a-little-too-hot-for-words kiss, as he had been away with work. This had, much to her confusion, relieved Isabella. She wasn't sure how she would react to seeing him after the kiss that had apparently initiated a dream about a sexy inmate and his dirty mouth.

She felt her cheeks heat and cleared her throat as she read the text.

**Happy birthday, Isabella.**** See you later. Peter. x**

She smiled and felt her stomach do some sort of odd flip slash lurch as she read the words.

And the kiss at the end? That was new.

She was going out for dinner with everyone for her birthday and he was obviously invited. She just hoped it wasn't going to be weird. She didn't need any more weird in her life. Weird was in full supply thank you very much.

_But what if he wanted another kiss…?_

"You alright?" Garrett asked as he sidled up next to her with a small smile, interrupting her inner debate.

Isabella pushed her phone back into her pocket and nodded.

"Yeah," she answered. "I just hope the board make the right decision today. It would certainly be a nice birthday present."

Garrett raised his eyebrows at her. "It's your birthday?"

Isabella grimaced slightly at her own verbal vomit and smiled. "Yeah," she answered.

"Well, I that case I hope even more that the result is what we all want." Garrett smiled again and Isabella returned it with a small sigh.

There was a knock at the door and a young man of about twenty peeked his head around the edge of it. "The board are ready for you."

"Here we go," Charlotte said as she straightened her skirt and held her hand in front of her to allow Isabella to take the lead.

The room that they all walked into was nothing like what Isabella had imagined. She had obviously watched far too many episodes of CSI or Law and Order because the room was far too unassuming and plain. The board consisted of five very bored looking individuals who were seated behind a large table that was covered in papers and glasses of water.

Cullen was standing, handcuffed, in front of them, shadowed by a guard to his right. She noticed him glance around himself, his eyes seemingly searching for someone or something. Eventually his eyes rested on her and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Isabella smiled back and wave discreetly with the tips of her fingers to which he nodded in reply. He turned from her, lifting his chin towards the board and took a deep breath.

"Could you please state your full name for the record?" A man of about sixty years of age with grey hair and cigarette stained fingers asked as he stared at Cullen.

"Edward Anthony Masen Cullen," he replied in a monotone voice. _He hated his fucking name…_

"May the record also show that this is Mr Cullen's first parole request and that the dossier has been in hand for two weeks." The man gestured to a stack of papers that were laid out on front of him. "You may all be seated."

Everyone took their seats with Charlotte and Mr Hughes seated closest to Cullen. Isabella fisted her hands in her lap and took a deep breath.

"Mr Cullen," the man continued. "My name is Roger Fields and I am head of this parole board. In an attempt to decide whether to deny or grant parole, the board have reviewed the details of your crime, your conduct in the facility, witness testimony as well as character references and accounts from your warden Mr Newton, your lawyer Mr Hughes, parole officer, councillor and tutor Miss Isabella Swan."

Cullen remained stoic even though his chest seemed to expand at the mention of Isabella and her part in his potential release.

_Fuck, please say yes…__let me out of this place…_

Roger Fields continued, "There are a couple of serious tickets that have been highlighted by Mr Newton that have caused a little bit of apprehension for the board."

Cullen held his eye roll and his breath as did the small brunette who was seated twenty feet to his right.

"Aggressive behaviour towards the staff of the facility and another inmate, which resulted in his being placed in the clinic for a week. These are obvious causes for concern, Mr Cullen, would you not agree?"

Cullen kept his eyes on the man before him, neither moving nor offering any answer.

Roger Fields exhaled, unsurprised and flicked open the folder in front of him. "However, we have also reviewed the testimonies of the people that work closest with you. They suggest that despite your penchant for attitude towards authority you have made progress in terms of your conduct and outlook, post your original release date."

Roger Fields glanced over the page before him, adjusting the glasses at the end of his nose. "You have participated in regular anger management counselling, as well as your meetings with Garrett Volture and have more recently taken part in some literature lessons that you have stated that you want to continue should your parole be granted?"

"Yes, Sir," Cullen answered through a dry throat.

"Is it something you truly want to continue, Mr Cullen?"

"Most definitely, Sir," Cullen replied.

Roger Fields lifted his eyebrows and nodded. "According to Miss Swan's testimony, you seem to work hard and despite your previous discretions you seem to have pulled your socks up – pardon the expression."

Roger Fields turned to the woman at his side and whispered something to which she nodded in response.

"Your employment and address have both been verified, Mr Cullen," he offered while folding his hands on the desk on front of him.

Isabella thought her heart was just about ready to burst from her chest.

"As the parole board for the district of New York, case number 202012 we have decided to grant inmate 061901 parole with effect from September 14."

Isabella couldn't help but grab Garrett's forearm in relief while she watched Cullen's head drop slightly. She saw the corner of his mouth rise as he closed his eyes.

"You will sign a parole licence with the conditions of your parole that you will adhere to for the duration of your parole which is nine months from tomorrow's date with further rehabilitation for a further three. You will continue with your parole meetings on a regular basis, with the option of seeing Mr Volture - which the board suggests you do - as well as your literature sessions with Miss Swan."

"Regular drug tests, random home visits and travel stipulations will be in place," Roger Fields added as he read from a sheet of paper in front of him.

"As a side note, Mr Cullen," he continued as he removed his glasses from his face. "You have an extraordinary network of people behind you and much of this decision was made due to the words that they have said about you. You have much to thank them for. With that being said, you are clearly an intelligent individual, Edward, who continues to make the wrong decisions when faced with choices. I hope that the board's decision will not be wasted on more wrong decisions, Mr Cullen and that we will not grow to regret _our_ choice."

"No, Sir," Cullen responded. "Thank you, Sir."

"Good luck, Mr Cullen," Roger Fields concluded before ordering the guard to take Cullen from the room.

Isabella watched disappointedly as the guard walked Cullen through a door at the other side of the room.

"It's ok," Garrett said with a wry smile as he looked at her face. "Newton has him in the session room. That's where we're going now." His smile grew as Isabella blushed and started towards the door he was gesturing to.

Cullen was pacing the room, biting on the side of his thumb as Isabella, Garrett, Mr Hughes, Charlotte and Mike Newton entered. His face lit momentarily before he dropped his hand from his mouth.

"Peaches," he breathed.

"Yeah?"

"Please, tell me you have some smokes with you?"

Isabella blinked quickly at him before snorting with laughter. "Sure," she answered as she pulled the pack from her bag. He smiled back and walked towards her, taking the cigarette that she offered. Their eyes met frequently and shyly.

"Congratulations," she offered, not really sure if it was the correct sentiment to use.

"Thanks," he replied as he blew smoke down his nose, "Thanks to all of you." He looked at Garrett before turning his gaze to Charlotte. "So, my ass leaves here tomorrow?"

Charlotte smiled as Mr Hughes moved to the table in the centre of the room and placed an extremely official document on the top of it.

"We need to go through the parole license, Mr Cullen," he said as he pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and sat down with a stern glare.

Cullen held his tongue at the old bastard who was clearly trying to piss the fuck all over his parade. Garrett clapped a hand to his shoulder to distract him and smiled.

"Well done, Edward," he said. "I knew you could do it."

"Thanks, G," he replied with a nod and averted gaze. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll be here with bells on." He walked then, past Isabella and towards the door that was being held by Newton, "Great birthday present, right?"

Isabella smiled and nodded before turning back to Cullen who was suddenly looking angry as all hell.

"What?" she asked quickly with wide eyes.

"It's your fucking birthday?" he growled.

Isabella raised her eyebrows in surprise at his tone. "Yes," she replied a little curtly. "Why?"

"Why didn't you fucking say anything? I didn't even…" he stopped his words quickly, his lips making a slapping sound as he did.

_What the fuck could I__ have done? I couldn't exactly nip out to the store and buy her a fucking birthday cake…_

"There were more important things going on today, Cullen," Isabella countered with a slight eye roll.

"Bullshit," he muttered feeling frustrated and weirdly inadequate. "You should have said something."

"Well, I have now, so no need to get pissy," Isabella said in jest as she knocked his elbow with her knuckle. "Besides, if you really are upset that I didn't tell you, you can buy me something awesome when you get out of here tomorrow."

She smiled and winked gently before walking towards Garrett and the door. She turned to see a small smile playing across his face and sighed in relief that she had managed to calm him. His reaction was not at all what she had expected from him but she was happy that she could make a joke out of it.

Why was he so pissed that she hadn't mentioned her birthday?

Isabella hated birthdays. _Hated_. Them. They were simply a reminder that she was getting older as well as an even bigger reminder that her father was still not there with her. It was morbid and selfish to think of it like that but hell, it _was her_ birthday.

At least she now had something positive to focus on. Cullen was being released and she had something to do with that. It was a good feeling and she was suddenly looking forward to her birthday party.

"Garrett, man," Cullen called just as Isabella slipped out of the door. "Can I speak to you for a minute?"

Garrett grinned and moved back into the room. Isabella smiled once more at Cullen for the last time in his prison issue overalls and left to go home.

=PoF=

"He got parole?" Alice said loudly with a wide smile.

Isabella nodded and sipped from her wine glass. "Yeah," she answered. "I honestly thought that the guy was going to deny it but…fuck, it was so nerve wracking!"

"So, when do your sessions start?"

"I don't know," Isabella replied. "I'll find out tomorrow I guess. I've already contacted the library on Fifth and 42nd to reserve the reading room."

"Well, that's great news, Bells," Alice said as she lifted her glass. "Isn't it, Jazz?" Alice nudged Jasper who was looking anywhere but at the two women who were talking across the restaurant table. He didn't reply but stood from his seat.

"Peter's here," he said quickly as his brother wandered towards the table with – much to Isabella's embarrassment – a card and a beautifully wrapped present.

"Hi guys," he said when he reached them.

He shook Jasper's hand and kissed Alice on the cheek before turning to Isabella who looked utterly ravishing in a red dress.

"Happy birthday," he said as he laid the gift in front of her. He leaned down and kissed the side of her mouth gently. The warmth of his lips felt good against hers and Isabella turned her head towards his slightly which made Peter euphoric inside.

She glanced down at the gift on the table and sighed. "You didn't have to…"

"Nonsense," he interrupted her as he placed his jacket on the back of the seat next to her. "Besides, it isn't anything amazing. It was just something that made me think of you when I saw it in San Francisco."

Alice bit her lip at the sweetness of her brother-in-law and watched as Isabella's face lit up like July 4th.

"Open it, please," Peter said gently, pushing it closer to her.

Isabella - feeling all eyes on her - started ripping at the deep purple paper to find a large transparent box which contained what looked like a snow globe. She looked at Peter who smiled lightly and then proceeded to remove the lid and pull the globe out. He twisted it in his hand quickly and set it on the table.

Instead of snow flakes falling around the miniature Golden Gate Bridge were millions of small stars and bit of crystal that glittered as it caught the light.

"Peter, that's gorgeous," Alice gasped as she watched the globe, transfixed.

"It is," Isabella agreed. She looked at Peter and smiled in gratitude. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied and moved to kiss her cheek again which he did softly, allowing his lips to linger a little longer than would normally be deemed appropriate.

"But why did you think of me when you saw this?" she asked as he pulled away.

"Isn't it obvious?" Peter countered with a grin. Isabella pouted slightly and shook her head. Peter laughed. "I thought of you because…" he shook the globe again and whispered in her ear. "It sparkles like you do."

Isabella's breath stuttered while she swallowed hard at his words. _Dammit._ Peter's breath was warm against her neck and sent small shivers down her back. He smiled softly and let his index finger run across her wrist. He remembered her words about going slow but he had missed her while he had been travelling. He didn't realise just how much until he had seen her through the restaurant window and immediately thought of the kiss in his car.

"Thank you," Isabella repeated with a slight husk to her voice.

"My pleasure," Peter replied as he let his eyes take her in.

_Yeah, _he thought wryly_, slow is my least favourite fucking word…_

Jamie and Leah arrived a few moments later with presents. It was the first time that Leah had met Peter and her eyes and not so discreet smiles at Isabella told her that she thought he was nice which was confirmed by her comment in the bathroom later that night that he was 'fucking gorgeous.'

And Isabella had to agree.

He was once again a pleasure to be around and she decided quickly that she liked it when his finger would graze her arm or his hand would lightly catch the skin of her back as he rested it on the back of her chair. She liked the warm feeling that settled in her stomach when their eyes met and she liked the sound of his laugh and the way he said her name.

But there was still…_something._ She was attracted to the guy. Hell, what _wasn't_ there to be attracted to? But a few times she had shifted uncomfortably in her seat because the feeling, that had been so prevalent in Peter's car as they kissed, suddenly made an obscene come back in the middle of her birthday dinner.

_What the fuck is up with that?_

It was indefinable but there it was; sitting in her stomach like a damn rock: hard and unmoving. Isabella fought to ignore it and by the time dessert arrived it_ had_ lessened but had in no way disappeared.

"Are you alright?" Alice asked quietly underneath the banter around the table.

Isabella nodded. "Fine," she answered with a smile. And she wasn't lying. Not totally.

"Happy birthday, Bells," Jamie offered as they all stood on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant once their dinner had been finished and had been paid for after much argument by Jasper and Peter. He hugged her warmly to his chest and sighed. Isabella squeezed him back. She missed her best friend; even if he was a dickhead.

"Come over for dinner," Isabella said with a threatening tone. "I'll make meat balls."

Jamie smiled and nodded, "Yes, Ma'am."

She kissed Leah who whispered something grotesque about Peter's anatomy and hugged and kissed Jasper and Alice who winked conspiratorially at both Isabella and Peter who laughed and shook his head at his sister-in-laws relentlessness.

The couple stood on the sidewalk, neither uncomfortable nor knowing what to do next.

"Can I give you a lift?" he asked, pointing towards his car.

"Sure," she replied after she had carefully considered the bags she had to carry should she walk the twelve blocks back to her apartment.

"Did you enjoy you're trip?" she asked him as he started the engine. He laughed and cocked an eyebrow.

"It was work. No matter where you are in the world if you have to work it's never good."

Isabella laughed. "I guess." She mused for a quick moment. "I bet it wouldn't be too bad if it was…India or the Maldives, the Caribbean?"

Peter chuckled as he glanced quickly at her triumphant face, "Touché," he conceded with a dip of his chin.

"It was good," he continued. "I thought of you."

Isabella looked down at her hands until the car came to a slow stop. She glanced up at Peter to see him smiling gently at her.

"Too fast?" he asked with apologetic eyes.

"No," she answered quietly with a slow shake of her head.

"Good," he replied in relief. "You look wonderful tonight, Isabella. Your birthday suits you."

She ran her hands down her dress and sighed. "Thank you. I had a good day," she said wistfully.

It _had_ been a good day. Cullen being granted parole, dinner with friends…Peter.

She looked back at the man in question and bit her lip.

"It was good to see you, Peter," she said, instantly feeling guilty that she hadn't returned his sentiment. She _had_ thought of him - fleetingly - but for some reason she didn't want to share that with him.

"I'm glad," he offered, feeling a slight twinge of panic slither across his chest. Could she be going cold after he had been away for such a short time? _Fuck!_

"Isabella," he said softly. "Would it be ok for us to have dinner next week? I feel that with me being away that maybe we need to have just…I don't know…you and I time? Is that alright?"

"That sounds good," she answered without a second thought. It was her choice to make and the damn 'rock feeling' could just get lost somewhere else! There was no need for it!

"Great," Peter said eagerly. "How about I call you over the weekend and we'll make arrangements then?"

"Sure."

Peter grinned and exhaled while Isabella unclipped her seat belt. She looked up at him and before he could say a word she was kissing his lips softly. It was nowhere near the fire of the last one but it was hot enough. She pulled away before there was any chance of his deepening it. But, for Peter, that was fine. He would go at whatever pace she wanted.

"Goodnight," Isabella said as she slid back across her seat towards the car door.

"Goodnight," Peter answered with a small smile as he once again watched her disappear into the foyer of the apartment building.

Isabella was still in a slight state of shock that she had initiated the kiss as she stumbled across the lobby and at first didn't hear Fred on the welcome desk as he called her name.

I _kissed_ him. _I _kissed _him. Wow! Screw you, feeling!_

"Miss Swan!" Fred waved at her to catch her attention before she reached the elevators. "Miss Swan!"

Isabella looked up at the bald waving man as it occurred to her that he was talking to her.

"Yes, Fred?" she asked as she walked over to him.

"Good evening, Miss Swan, I have a package for you that was delivered earlier this afternoon." He pulled out a square parcel that was wrapped neatly in brown paper, from under the desk. "I didn't catch the man's name but he said it was important to get this to you."

Isabella eyed the package carefully. "Thank you, Fred."

She climbed into the elevator and once at her floor, made her way sluggishly towards her apartment. She threw everything down on the sofa and kicked off her shoes, immediately in need of sweat pants and apple juice, in whatever order she found them in.

In sweat pants, hoodie and with a huge glass of apple juice she seated herself cross-legged on her sofa and switched on the TV. Her cell phone chimed as her recording of American Idol began. She cursed and reached for it from her purse that was situated under the mysterious brown parcel which she placed on her knee as she pressed receive call on her blasted cell_._

_No-one interrupted Simon Cowell!_

She glanced quickly at the name before putting it to her ear.

"Unless this is a very naked Channing Tatum with a hard on he has no idea what to do with I'm hanging up!"

"Did you make out?" Leah's voice was excited and high pitched.

"With Channing Tatum? Fuck, Girl, I can only dream!"

"With Peter you facetious bitch!"

Isabella laughed. "That is none of your business, Damon!"

"You so did, you slut!"

Isabella laughed again. "I did not!"

"Liar!"

"We didn't make out, Leah."

"Was there lip action of any description?"

Isabella remained quiet but smiled into the receiver.

"I knew it!"

She snorted and leaned back against the cushions of her couch. "Goodnight Leah!"

"I will get details from you, Swan." Isabella didn't doubt her.

"Goodnight Leah."

"Goodnight."

She threw her phone back at her side and pressed play once more on her remote.

She smiled lightly to herself and Leah's reaction to Peter. He was a great catch, Isabella knew and she was proud of herself that she had made a move on him. Her confusion about the feelings she was having were obviously clear to Peter and for that Isabella was annoyed. Peter was a nice, safe guy and there was no way that she was going to let a stupid rock in her stomach stop her from having something that could, potentially, be incredible.

She deserved some happiness.

She sighed and reached for her apple juice to hear a light thud come from between her feet. She looked down to see the brown paper square that Fred had given her, looking back her.

"What are you?" she asked quietly as she picked it up and slowly but surely began tearing the paper open.

The gasp of air that left her when she realised what it was, was loud and unexpected.

She stared though tear-filled eyes at the 1987 first edition copy of 'Walter the lazy mouse' that was sitting in her hands.

"No way…how…?"

She flipped it over and read the familiar blurb before running her fingers reverently over the immaculate illustrations on the front cover.

"Oh God."

She opened it up and her eyes immediately went to the small message that was scrawled neatly in black on the back of the front cover.

_Peaches,_

_Here's to achieving anything you put your mind to, no matter what the obstacles._

_Happy birthday._

_Cullen_.

**Holy****…parole…Walter…Peter…Cullen…I can't speak, Batman!**

**I'll be in Cullen's cell 'prepping' him for the women of the outside world…you know who you are ladies of Twitterville!**

**Follow me on Twitter (at)sophiejax**

**And leave your vote at the Glove awards for your fave stories. (Mine, if the desire so takes you hee hee)**

**Leave me love…or hate, whichever.**

**TTFN xxx**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for the slight delay but I was struck with a horrendous migraine yesterday so I was unable to finish the chapter.**

**Thanks so much for the reviews for the last one. I was, as always, overwhelmed. Cheers.**

**WARNING: This chapter contains a sexual act that includes Cullen but no Peaches. I know many of you are sensitive to that, so apologies in advance. Just skim.**

**For the rest of you – enjoy. I certainly enjoyed writing it…God damn…**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 15: Freedom**

"_Man is free at the moment he wishes to be." _**Voltaire**

Cullen had barely slept. He was pumped, and excited, and much like a small child on Christmas morning.

At seven AM, on the morning of his release, he was busy packing up his books and other inconsequential belongings into a pathetically small box with an enthusiasm that garnered perplexed looks from the guards who were just about to end their night shift.

Cullen couldn't have given a flying fuck about _them_ however. He had more pressing matters at hand. Like the fact that he was leaving the shit-hole that had been his place of residence for the past eleven months. _Fuck yes!_

The sheet of paper, that stated that he had officially been granted parole, was now his most treasured possession and - at regular intervals - he would open it up and re-read it, just to make sure that that shit hadn't changed in any way.

It hadn't.

The wide smile on his face was still present and correct as he entered the food hall for breakfast an hour later. Emmett smirked as Cullen sat down next to him, rolling his eyes at the smug bastard's expression.

"If you're here to gloat, you can just fuck off," Emmett said with a small smile and an elbow in Cullen's ribs.

Cullen widened his eyes in mock hurt. "Me? Gloat? Would I ever do something so childish and inappropriate?"

"Yes!" Emmett replied with a snort which Cullen conceded with a shrug of his shoulders.

"What can I say?" he asked as he pushed a forkful of egg into his mouth. "I'm a free assed motherfucker and it feels good!" He elongated the word good and winked at the whole table.

"Cock," Emmett muttered with a shake of his head and a suppressed laugh. He sat up straighter and slapped Cullen on the back. "I'm happy for ya. No bullshit."

Cullen's cocky demeanour dropped instantly along with his fork and he held his hand out for Emmett which he took and shook firmly.

"Thanks man," he said with a dip of his chin. "You make sure you give me a call when you get your own sheet of freedom, right?"

"Fuck yeah, Cullen. You're first on my list, brother." Emmett smiled widely. His parole board hearing had been pencilled in for six weeks time. He was hopeful. As he had told his parole officer, he had been a 'well-behaved little car thief.'

"Damn straight," Cullen replied with a smile. "There are some hot little V12 engines round my neighbourhood that have _your_ name written all over them."

"Cullen," Emmett warned before adding sarcastically, "You're making me hard."

Cullen laughed before he slapped Emmett's shoulder.

"Take care, man," he said more seriously to which Emmett dipped his head and bumped Cullen's fist.

Cullen saluted the rest of the table with both of his middle fingers and a grin - which they all laughed at - before he made his way back to his cell to change and grab his stuff.

Cullen's civilian clothes were what he had been brought into the facility wearing eleven months before. Cullen couldn't help but feel smug as shit to see that the grey _Ramones_ t-shirt was now tight across his arms and chest from all the gym work that he had done with Alec. He smiled and shook his head as he pulled at the sleeves to give his biceps a little more room.

"I'll be damned," he muttered before he pulled on his dark wash jeans and his black boots. Denim and cheap cotton had never felt so fucking good.

"You nearly ready?"

Cullen turned with a smile to see Garrett leaning against the open door of his cell with an equally happy face.

"Pretty much," Cullen replied as he fastened his brown leather belt around the waist of his jeans. "When can I go?"

Garrett looked at his watch and cocked an eyebrow. "Doors open in ten minutes. We're just waiting on Newton."

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Cullen muttered as he looked around his cell to see if he had left anything he shouldn't have. Satisfied that he hadn't, he picked up his box and pulled it to his chest. He exhaled and stretched his neck in impatience.

"So," Garrett started with a long sigh as he took a step towards Cullen, while pushing his hands into his pockets. "I delivered your little…_gift_…to Isabella."

Cullen avoided his councillor's gaze for as long as he could. "Great," he replied nonchalantly. "There was enough cash?"

Garrett nodded. "More than enough and I wrote exactly what you asked me to."

Cullen nodded, feeling his stomach do a goddamn somersault as he thought about Peaches receiving the copy of Walter the Lazy Mouse. He wondered if she liked it. He wondered if she thought it too much or too cheesy. He had no idea.

"I have to ask," Garrett continued as he inspected the toe of his right shoe.

"What?" Cullen snapped. _Shitshitshit._

Garrett smiled to himself before looking up at the young man in front of him. They both knew that there was a peach coloured elephant in the room but Garrett didn't want to cause any drama on Cullen's release day. No. What Cullen had had Garrett write on the inside of the book? That shit would be saved for a later date.

"I just wanted to know how the hell you managed to find a place that sold the book on such short notice," he finished with wide, innocent eyes and a shrug.

Cullen seemed to exhale in relief and shuffled the box closer to his chest. He shrugged.

"Peac-…_she, _Isabella…Miss Swan had…um…well, shit, she mentioned it during one of our sessions so I…um, I…looked it up on the internet in the library. I was going to get it once I was out but when she mentioned that it was her birthday…" He glanced up, looking bashful as Garrett caught his eye. "It's not a big fucking deal, man, stop looking at me like that."

Garrett watched as Cullen shifted from one foot to the other, looking altogether uncomfortable as all fuck. And he was.

Garrett quickly held his palms up in surrender. "Hey, I didn't say a word. I thought it was a great gift: very thoughtful."

Cullen eyed him warily, "Really?"

"Really," Garrett replied honestly with a sharp nod. "I bet she really liked it."

Cullen's stomach twisted again. He fucking hoped so. It was the least he could do for her after all that she had done and put up with from him.

"Inmate 061901," Newton called as he sauntered into the doorway of Cullen's cell. He smiled tightly at both of the men and cleared his throat as though the thought of Cullen leaving his facility was _literally_ hard to fucking swallow.

"I'm here to escort you off the premises," he finished as he pulled at the cuffs of the white shirt he was wearing under a dark navy blazer.

"Goodie," Cullen murmured with a sardonic glare at Newton. It didn't escape his attention that Garrett was smirking behind his right hand.

Cullen followed Newton, a guard and Garrett towards the back entrance of the facility, where he signed one more release form and received yet another copy of his parole conditions.

"How many of these does one person fucking need?" he asked incredulously as he pushed the piece of paper into the depths of his box that was resting on the front desk.

"Well," Newton retorted with a tight lipped smile while he clicked the top of his pen. "We all know how forgetful you can be when it comes to rules, Cullen."

Cullen picked up his box and glared daggers at his warden. "It was a rhetorical question, dick wad."

Newton's eyes widened in anger, "What did-...?"

Garrett stepped in between the two men quickly. "Come on now, Edward," he almost pleaded, "Time to go." He pushed gently on Cullen's right shoulder, guiding him towards the exit.

Cullen kept his stare on Mike Newton for as long as humanly possible before he allowed Garrett to walk him to the door. _Later bitch…_

The sun was hot even at just after nine in the morning and once the door was opened and they stepped into the car lot, Cullen immediately closed his eyes and lifted his face to it. He took a deep breath and sighed.

"That shit good?" Garrett chuckled at his side.

"Fuck yeah," Cullen answered. He opened his eyes slowly and began rummaging in his box. It took him a few minutes of cursing and muttering before he found his shades and placed them onto his face.

"Now I'm fucking ready," he said with a wide smile at his councillor.

Garrett laughed and rubbed his chin. He looked across the very far side of the lot to see a familiar, large, black haired figure leaning arrogantly against the front passenger door of a very hot vehicle, smoking a cigarette.

Garrett exhaled and shook his head minutely in exasperation.

"Is that Jake?" he asked quietly with a nod in Black's direction.

"Don't start," Cullen warned with a lowered chin and raised eyebrows. "He's here to pick me up because I sure as shit ain't walking home."

Garrett scoffed and slammed his hands to his hips. "Well, it's a definite conflict of interest to have Jacob Black come and pick you up when he's the damn reason…"

"Look!" Cullen stopped Garrett's tirade dead in its tracks; his voice louder than he maybe initially intended.

"This is _my_ release day. I'm finally free of this fuck awful place and I'm currently in a good fucking mood. Please, don't piss on my parade with your holier than thou bullshit, G. I've had my fill."

Cullen's voice was firm but there was an underlying tone that was almost pleading with Garrett not to ruin his moment. Garrett sighed and raised his eyebrows in understanding. As much as he detested Jake Black he didn't want Edward to leave the facility with there being bad blood between them.

"Fine," he answered without moving his mouth, "Fine."

"Ok," Cullen countered before clearing his throat at the awkwardness. "So, I'll see you Friday?"

"Yeah," Garrett replied, "Your place at six. Don't forget." He waggled his finger in mocking of Newton's words.

Cullen smirked and shook his head. "Like that's even possible with the six fucking pieces of paper I have to remind me."

Garrett laughed lightly. He raised his hand timidly and patted Edward on his shoulder. "Take care, Edward."

"Sure," Cullen replied, holding his box higher up his chest. "I'll see ya."

With one last smile he began walking towards Jake. The motherfucker was grinning like an idiot that Cullen couldn't help but return.

"What's up fucker?" Jake drawled around a plume of smoke that wafted from his mouth.

Cullen smiled and shrugged. "Not much; just released from prison, ya know."

Jake smirked, "Same old, same old, huh?"

"You know it." Cullen placed his box on the hood of the car and shook Jake's hand before they hugged with a slap of the back. "It's good to see your ugly ass face," he said as he took the smoke Jake was offering.

"Yeah, same, dude. Was that Volture?"

Cullen nodded as he flipped open his lighter and leaned against the car next to Jake as he inhaled slowly.

"Giving you shit?"

Cullen nodded again.

"Well, hell, bro, at least that _shit_ is over with." Jake slapped Cullen's back, hard.

"Yeah," Cullen answered as he blew smoke down his nose. He fucking hoped so.

"Cullen!"

The two men looked up to see a small brunette walking and waving hesitantly across the car lot towards them.

"Who the _fuck_ is that?" Jake asked as he pulled his own shades down until they were resting at the edge of his nose.

"Um…no-one," Cullen answered quickly. "Hold this a minute."

He handed Jake his half smoked cigarette and began jogging between the cars over to his Peaches. He didn't need Jake standing ogling her while they spoke. That shit was just unnecessary.

"Hey," he breathed as he came to a stand still in front of her. She looked incredible as always and even better with the sun shining on her hair.

_Fuck, I need a fucking testosterone shot or something…_

"Hey," Isabella replied, trying her hardest not to notice how tight Cullen's t-shirt was or how low his jeans were on his hips. "I'm sorry," she began, glancing behind him towards the tall, dark skinned man. "I, um…I know you probably want to get going but…um…" she stuttered and shifted from one foot to the other.

She had been planning what she wanted to say to him from the minute that she had opened the amazing present that he had given to her for her birthday, but now that he was standing in front of her- with mirrored Ray Bans on - all thought and reason seemed to seep slowly from her brain. _Dammit._

"It's no problem," Cullen replied as he pulled the shades off and tucked them in the neck of his t-shirt. "What's up?"

She smiled and coughed out a laugh as she clenched her right knuckles in her left hand, making them crack.

"I…um, well…I got your present, the gift…shit, the book and I…I just wanted to…I just wanted to say thank you. It was…" She bit her lip hard as the same wave of emotion that came every time she thought about the story crashed over her.

"Did you like it?" Cullen asked nervously as he slipped the tips of his fingers into the pockets of his jeans.

Isabella's eyes widened slightly. "Like it?" she repeated with a slow shake of her head. "I…I loved it. It was perfect and extremely thoughtful. Thank you."

Cullen suddenly felt very uncomfortable and rocked back on his heels slightly. "Well, you know…you, um…you said you had lost yours and…well, now you have one."

_Yeah, way to state the fucking obvious__, you fucking idiot._

He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head at his dumb ass remark.

"Yeah," Isabella repeated quietly. "Anyway thank you again. I read some last night and…it was wonderful."

Cullen couldn't help but smile slightly wider at the expression on her face. She looked so happy and…peaceful.

"Good. You're welcome, Peaches," he said just as quietly.

Isabella smiled back. "I also wanted to give you this." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small card that was covered in numbers. "Our first session is scheduled for Monday at four at the library on 47th."

"Yeah, I got the memo," he answered with a wry smile and a roll of his eyes.

Isabella laughed nervously._ What the fuck is wrong with me?_

"Yeah…I, um…well, here is my cell number and my…my home number in case, well, in case you can't make it or you're gonna be late or…whatever." She waved her hand dismissively. "I don't know…but I just thought…you should have some way of being able to contact me so…"

She handed Cullen the card as though it were a live grenade and stepped back from him. Cullen watched her face carefully. Was she blushing?

"Yeah, that's a damn good idea. Thanks," he said as evenly as he could before he pushed the card into the back pocket of his jeans.

"So," Isabella continued as she slapped her palms gently against the tops of her thighs. "I'll see you then?"

"Sure," he answered with a nod. Her apparent flustering made him equally unsettled. He had never seen her so…not together. It was unnerving but cute as fuck.

"Good," she added as she took another step back from him. "I'll let you get going. Have a good weekend."

He saluted with two lazy fingers at his temple. "You too," he replied as he watched her smile bashfully and then turn and walk quickly back towards the facility.

Once she was through the door and out of sight, he ran his hands through his too long hair and exhaled.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.

Whatever had just happened was completely bizarre. Peaches was normally so in control. He relied on her control to keep himself calm and grounded. Their sessions would sure as shit not work if they continued to behave that way with each other. It was worse than fucking junior high.

Maybe the whole tutoring thing was going to be an utter bust. He sighed in annoyance and put his shades back on.

Jake was still grinning like a goddamn Cheshire cat as Cullen walked back towards the car.

"Something you wanna _share_?" he asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"No," Cullen snapped back. He suddenly realised how protective he sounded and laughed quickly to try and hide his inexplicable annoyance at his friend's innuendo.

"No," he repeated softly with a hand through his hair. "I mean, she's just a Lit tutor, that's all."

"Tutor, huh?" Jake asked as he glanced back at the door that Miss Lit tutor had disappeared through. "Well, fuck, she could tutor me any time with that ass."

Cullen held his tongue and smiled tightly while keeping his eyes on the handle of the car door. "Really, I hadn't noticed."

Jake snorted, laughed loudly and pulled his car keys from his pocket. "That settles it, brother. We need to get your ass fucking laid."

This, Cullen _had_ to laugh at and agree with wholeheartedly. He needed to get his dick wet and relax: clear his mind of all this bullshit. He was a free man and he was ready to enjoy every minute of it.

=PoF=

Cullen had never ever been a home bird.

He had, for much of his teens - and before he was so well versed in the laws of New York State - been shifted quickly and frustratingly from one wretched place to another. If it wasn't from one boarding school to another equally pretentious and boring as fuck boarding school, he would - usually after coming to blows with his father - crash on friend's sofas or floors. He was used to not feeling comfortable staying in one place.

That's just the way his life was: unsettled.

So he was more than a little surprised when he was hit with an overwhelming sense of relief as he pushed the key into the lock of his loft apartment on the corner of Greenwich and Jay in the Tribeca district of New York.

He pushed the door open and took a moment just to allow the smells of the place to wash over him before he felt Jake nudge his back gently.

"You planning on going in there?" he said with a smirk.

"Yeah. Sorry, man," Cullen muttered as he took a step into the apartment and closed the door behind Jake who was carrying his box of shit.

Cullen threw his keys onto the small table that was placed by his front door and stood surveying the place that he had walked out of almost a year before. It hadn't changed at all and it smelled and felt just the same. Jake had arranged a cleaner to visit once a week, while Cullen was inside, to clean and make sure that everything was just so. Jake was more than aware of Cullen's OCD tendencies but also wanted to do something for his friend while he did his time.

Jake placed the box on the top of the breakfast bar and sighed. "The place looks good, right?"

Cullen smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it does. Thanks."

"Hey, no problem," he held his hands up before moving quickly around to the large double stainless steel fridge.

He opened it to show a plethora of alcohol.

"Surprise," he said with a chuckle. "Just for you my friend," he added as he pulled out two bottles of beer and handed one to an amused looking Cullen.

"To your freedom," Jake said solemnly as the necks of their beers touched and they both took a giant gulp. Cullen had never been happier that alcohol was not prohibited as part of his parole conditions; especially at eleven in the morning.

He belched loudly in appreciation and grinned at Jake. "I fucking needed that." The pair laughed and Jake spared no time in retrieving another two.

"So, Cullen, free man extraordinaire, what's the plan for the rest of the day?"

Cullen sipped his second beer thoughtfully and looked around him self again, seemingly surprised to find that he was standing in his own apartment with his best friend and a cold beer in his hand.

"Well, I need a goddamn shower," he said as he lifted his left arm up and smelled his pit, "A hair cut and a good fucking sleep in my own huge ass bed."

Jake rolled his eyes and snorted. "And who said rock and roll was fucking dead?" he deadpanned. "Jesus, Cullen, is that the _best_ you can come up with?"

"No," he shook his head and his face became serious. "I want to see my baby."

Jake smiled with the left side of his mouth and nodded slowly.

"Is she ok?" Cullen asked quietly. "Have you looked after her?"

"She's fucking beautiful and yes, I looked after her as if she were my own."

Cullen placed his bottle of beer down on the breakfast bar. "Take me to her," he said earnestly.

He followed Jake as he left the apartment and proceeded to almost gallop down the stairs of the building towards the private garage that was situated in its belly. Jake flicked a switch which flooded the space with light and Cullen gasped when he saw his pride and joy; looking so fucking spectacular she took his breath away.

"Well hello, beautiful," he whispered as he slowly walked towards his baby.

He held his breath as he reached out and let the tips of his fingers touch the leather seat of the Harley Davidson Sportster and swallowed hard as he grasped the handle bars. It had been too fucking long.

Jake whistled and as Cullen turned, he threw the Harley's keys at him which he caught against his chest.

"She looks fucking awesome, Jake. Thank you."

"No problem," Jake replied with a wide smile. "She's had an oil change and a polish. I did it myself of course; I wouldn't let those fucking greasy pawed dogs at the body shop anywhere near her - as _much_ as Paul fucking whined."

Cullen laughed and brushed his knuckles across the engine as reverently as he was able. He hadn't realised up until that moment just how much he had missed riding his bike. His _Kala_. He was immediately struck with the luscious image of his Peaches straddling his bike with her knees tight against his own ribs as they rode to the coast; holding onto him with her small hands as he pushed the bike hard and fast.

_Fuck, yes._ He discreetly adjusted himself and stood from his crouched position at the side of _Kala_, once more letting his hands glide over her metal.

"I'll see your fine ass later," he promised her before he walked back over to Jake and back up the stairs of the building.

"Ok, man, well I have things to see and people to do," Jake smiled as he stood at Cullen's apartment door. "I'll be back later with food and pussy."

Cullen rolled his eyes playfully, garnering a thump against his left arm.

"About seven ok?" Jake asked with a knowing smile. If there were two things that Edward Cullen couldn't resist it was food and women. Sometimes together.

"Sounds good," Cullen answered. He held out his hand for Jake which he took. They looked at each other for a moment, a silent understanding passing between the two men.

"It _is_ good to have ya home, man," Jake muttered as he released Cullen's hand. "See ya later."

Cullen watched Jake disappear down the stairs and walked back into his apartment. He closed the door and leaned against it with a loud sigh while rubbing his palms down his face. He couldn't decide how he was feeling at that moment. He couldn't deny how fucking good it felt to be home but at the same time he also felt slightly redundant. What was he to do? He pushed himself off of the door and grabbed his box from the breakfast bar. He threw himself and the box onto his chocolate leather couch and pulled the lid off of it.

It was mostly books that he pulled out, many that had helped him escape from the shit hole just with a turn of each page. He stopped when he came to his copy of '_The Merchant of Venice'_ and smiled. Without his permission his mind instantly went to Peaches: wondering what she was doing at that moment. He glanced at the clock on the wall – ah, she would be in class with Emmett and company. He was at once struck with a weird feeling in his stomach as he thought of missing out on her teachings and passion.

He frowned down at the text in his hands in confusion and threw it back in the box.

"Get a grip you fucking idiot," he murmured angrily at himself before he pulled another beer from the fridge and made his way to his bedroom and the en suite. It wasn't like he wouldn't have Peaches all to him self come Monday evening anyway; lucky motherfucker that he was.

He stripped of his clothes and made his was way into the shower, smiling contentedly at the three power shower heads that started thrusting water against his body hard enough to make his skin move. It sure beat the hell out of Arthur Kill's shitty fucking amenities. He realised quickly that he didn't have anything in the bathroom other than a bar of soap that he began rubbing over himself in an attempt to wash all remnants of the past eleven months from his body and mind. And yet, even as he tried to clear his mind, it continued to return to a small, sassy brunette.

He grumbled an expletive as his cock hardened once again.

He had tried his damnedest to stop jerking off to images of his Peaches – not least because it was almost fucking impossible to whack off in a prison cell without worrying about some pervy bastard seeing. But he also didn't want to sexualise Peaches that way.

He snorted loudly and listened to it echo off the white and black tiles of the bathroom walls. As he'd come to understand, trying _not_ to sexualise Isabella Swan was kinda like trying to braid fog: utterly pointless. She was the sexiest fucking creature he had ever seen and, whether she knew it or not, he couldn't help but let his imagination place her in certain situations…and positions.

Right now, she was standing in his shower, naked and ready for him. He immediately grasped his cock and began moving his hand along it, gripping tightly and twisting his wrist as he reached the tip. His head dropped back and he made sure he remained upright with his other palm against the shower wall.

She would drop to her knees and take him in his mouth. Fuck, yeah she would know how to work her mouth on a cock. Sucking, licking and grasping his balls in her small hands. Her big, brown eyes would look up at him as she hollowed out her cheeks and she would hum around his shaft.

"Jesus," he hissed as his cock twitched in his palm at the thought.

As was always the case when Cullen jerked off with Peaches in mind, he managed to last all of two fucking minutes. He thumped his fist against the wall and groaned as he came in four long streams that disappeared down the plug hole and left him gasping for breath. He stood under the hot water for a couple more moments, allowing it to relax his body further before hitting the water off and wrapping a towel around his waist.

Once dressed in a pair of dark jeans and his Beastie Boys _'Get off my Dick'_ t-shirt, he grabbed his wallet from his bedside drawer, checking the cash that he had left inside it and made his way out of his apartment. As much as he wanted to take _Kala_ for a spin, he decided to walk, wanting to feel the freedom that was now his. He walked the few blocks to the subway and then headed uptown to the barbers that he had used since he was a smaller version of the dickhead that he currently was.

"Well, if it isn't Master Cullen!" A bellowing accented voice exploded around the room as Culen closed the door behind him.

Cullen smiled at George the owner of _Franco's Barbers_ and held out his hand which the large Italian took in his giant paw.

"It's good to see you my boy. How are you?"

"I'm good, George, how about yourself?" Cullen asked as he removed his shades and his jacket and took a seat in his favourite spot next to the window of the shop.

"Business is good, I'm still married to the most beautiful woman in the world and my heart is still beating hard. I am one happy man."

George grinned widely at Cullen in the mirror on the wall and after wiping his hands and serving the one customer that was standing and waiting patiently he clapped his hands onto Cullen's shoulders.

"What can I do for you today?"

Cullen grimaced as he ran his fingers through the fucking monstrous chaos that adorned his head. "I need you to work your clipper magic on this shit, George."

George laughed and pulled out the clippers in question along with a black comb.

"Short back and sides and a trim on top?" he asked as he squirted water across Cullen's hair.

"Perfecto," Cullen answered as he shifted in his seat to get comfortable.

"Your father was in here a few days ago," George said as he began moving the clippers up the back of Cullen's neck.

Cullen remained quiet but took a deep breath.

"He never mentioned that you were back in the area."

_Yeah, and why the fuck would he?_

"I just got back today," Cullen answered instead. He glanced at George in the mirror, "Business trip, you know how it is."

George smiled and nodded his head. Yes, he knew exactly what kind of 'business trip' Cullen was talking about.

Once Cullen was successfully shorn and had paid George and promised to see him again soon, he made his way to the nearest phone shop where he bought a new iPhone. He had had one before he was put inside but it had met a cruel but swift death over the side of the Brooklyn Bridge one night before his arrest. There had been way too many items and contacts on that phone for it to have fallen into any law abiding hands. Fuck that shit.

Once he had bought some of the more mundane items for his apartment – including shower gel – he made his way back to his apartment, feeling more content and a little more comfortable in his own skin. He wasted no time in hooking his new phone up to his laptop and making sure that it was ready to go. He was so busy loading a shit load of songs onto the fucking thing that he almost didn't notice the light that was flashing on his answering machine.

"Goddamn it Jake," he muttered to himself as he walked over to it and pressed play. The fucker was always leaving random messages on his machine. It was kinda his thing.

"_You have three new messages…first message_…Um, Edward, it's um, it's your Dad, I know you were released today, Garret called and I just wanted to-…"

Cullen slammed his hand down on the delete button and growled deep in his chest as something sharp and uncomfortable twisted right in its centre. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes out of his jeans pocket and lit one, inhaling that shit for all it was worth. _Fucking Garrett._

"_Second message_…Yo, Cullen, my man, you're out getting some tail already? _That's_ my motherfucker. We'll be over later. Jake said seven. See you then."

Cullen exhaled his smoke and allowed himself to smile. Ben was another of Cullen's close friends. It would be good to see him.

"_Third message_…Edward, its Jasper. I heard that you got out today which is, um…great and…well, I know you didn't want to talk about it but the papers _really_ need signing so if you can-…"

"Fuck you," Cullen snapped as he once again punched the delete button. He didn't need that dick on his case on his first day out.

He threw the end of his smoke into the ashtray on the table next to his laptop and dropped onto the sofa with his forearm tight across his eyes. He'd been out a total of – he checked his watch – six fucking hours and already it had started. Hearing from his father was one thing but dammit did Jasper really have to call so fucking soon? Give a guy a chance to breathe for fuck's sake!

He looked down at his phone that was still loading music and quickly set an alarm on it for six. He needed to sleep and to just forget everything for a few sweet hours. He took a deep breath and stared up at the tall cream ceiling. It wasn't long before sleep rescued him.

=PoF=

At five minutes before seven and just as Cullen was pushing the last of the books that he had taken from Arthur Kill on his bookshelf – in alphabetical order no less – the door to his apartment was suddenly being beaten to within an inch of its life.

"Hold the fuck on," he called as he unlocked it and opened it to find at least fifteen people, headed by Jake, standing smiling at him with crates, kegs and bottles of alcohol.

"There he is," Jake called with a wide smile as Cullen left the door open to allow everyone to enter.

He received handshakes from the guys and kisses and hugs from the women, some of which he knew well – some in the Biblical sense – and some that he knew he should recognise but really fucking didn't.

Music was put on and everyone eased into the party at Cullen's place, just like old times. Ben arrived with another group of fifteen or so bodies and practically dry humped Cullen in his own quirky way.

"Its good to fucking see you!" Ben cried as he embraced him once again.

He was slightly high and Cullen couldn't help but feel slightly fucking jealous.

Jake noticed Cullen's expression and hesitantly pulled out a small bag of powder from his jeans pocket. Cullen looked at it resting in his friend's palm and, after the fleeting desire to grab it and run had rushed through him, shook his head minutely.

"I can't man," he said as he sipped his beer in frustration. "You know the bastards will be calling me for a test next week."

Jake nodded and put the bag back away for safe keeping. "My bad, man."

"It's ok. Thanks for the offer. I could do with some of that shit believe me." The smell of pot that was wafting around his apartment was enough to drive him crazy by itself.

Jake watched as Cullen rolled his neck and finished his drink. He knew there was something else up from the tapping of his foot to the way he wasn't even giving the shit hot red head who was eye fucking the life out of him the time of day.

"My fucking father called," Cullen blurted out as he slammed the empty bottle on the side. _Ah, so that's what's up._

Jake didn't react but simply nodded. There was never anything to say in terms of Cullen's relationship with his father. It was strained at best and Jake had learned long ago that it was just best to let Cullen vent as much as possible. Advice was never a good idea and was always returned with venom.

"I don't even know why he fucking bothers," Cullen added as he pulled out another beer.

"Did you speak to him?" Jake asked tentatively to which Cullen shook his head.

"He left a message on the machine."

"Delete it?"

"Yeah."

Jake reached behind himself and pulled out two shot glasses which he proceeded to fill with tequila.

"Well, hell, man I think that shit deserves a drink."

Cullen laughed sarcastically but was at once touched by his friend's way of taking his mind off the shit which was exactly what he needed. They touched glasses and slammed their shots back, wincing and grimacing as the tequila travelled to their stomachs.

"Where's mine?"

Cullen turned to see Siobhan, curling herself against Jake. She was hot as fuck – always had been – and he knew that Jake had been hitting it for a while. He knew it wasn't just Siobhan's looks that Jake gravitated to. Although it had been a long time ago, and it had only happened once, Cullen knew that Siobhan had some skills in the bedroom department.

"How are you, Cullen?" she purred as she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"I'm good, Siobhan. You're looking well." He let his eyes wander down her and winked when his gaze met hers.

"Not too bad yourself," she replied as she did the same thing. "Have you met my friends?"

He turned to see a small blonde and leggy brunette with drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces.

"This is Emily and Rebecca," Siobhan continued as she pointed from one to the other.

Emily flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder before holding her hand out for Cullen to shake.

"Nice to meet you," he said as he shook her hand and smiled at her in a way he knew would make her panties knot between her legs.

"Likewise I'm sure," she answered before she sucked on the straw that was placed in her glass.

Cullen smirked at the overtly sexual gesture but couldn't deny that his cock was suddenly eager to get in on the straw sucking action. He _was_ male after all.

The foursome stood, drank and smoked. The anecdotes about past nights out started in earnest and Cullen found him self relaxing more and more. It felt good to have his friends around him. This is what he had missed most when he had been inside.

When Emily leaned into his side he didn't mind it. In fact he almost welcomed it. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman and he missed the sensations and sounds that happened during a good fuck.

She was hot too and had a mouth that he had no doubt would look fantastic wrapped around his dick; especially with the sparkling juicy shit she kept putting on it.

He pushed his hand behind her and let the tips of his fingers dance across the bare skin above her tight black jeans. She was soft, of course and he at once imagined what her skin felt like all over her body. He smiled down at her when she pushed her hand into the back pocket of his jeans and squeezed his ass.

She frowned momentarily and pulled out a small card that Cullen had forgotten about. He snatched it from her and pushed it into his front pocket.

"Sorry," she whispered in his ear. "I didn't mean to snoop."

"No problem," he said quickly as he stood up from leaning against her. "Excuse me a minute."

He left his bottle on the side and walked towards his bedroom. Everyone knew that his room was out of bounds during their get-togethers so he didn't stop to knock or wait in case there were naked bodies – which of course there weren't. _Damn good job too._

He pulled the card back out of his pocket as well as his phone and placed him self at the edge of his bed. It took him all of two seconds to decide to do what he had thought about the minute that Emily had found the card with Peaches number.

It wasn't too late to text her. It was barely midnight and it was Friday night after all. _Fuck it._

**Hey. It's Cullen. This is my cell number****. I thought you might need it. Just in case.**

He read it a couple of times, wondering if it sounded right – not that he knew what the fuck would sound wrong - before he typed in her cell number and pressed send.

(He saved her number, under the name Peaches, naturally.)

He tapped the phone against his knuckles and sighed. He wasn't sure why he felt the way he did about texting his Peaches. She had given him her number, it was only right that she should have his too. He had to quit with the over analysing shit, he was driving him self crazy.

The sound of his cell beeping with an incoming text frightened the shit out of him. He laughed at him self and looked at the phone. _Peaches_.

_Thanks that was nice of you. It's good to know I have a way of contacting you. Just in case._

Cullen smiled. The beer in his system made him feel brave.

**No worries. ****As long as you know you can't use this for any booty calls and/or sexting. I don't do that shit.**

He pressed send wondering whether she would appreciate the joke or not.

Shit, maybe she would be really offended.

"Fuck," he muttered as he began writing out another text. His thumbs paused as his phone beeped again. _Peaches_.

_Dammit. Well, it's a good job you told me. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything._

He laughed lightly and shook his head. She appreciated it. Of course she did.

**No problem.**** I'm glad we cleared that up.**

_Me too. Otherwise it may have been __really__ embarrassing. Have a good weekend. See you Monday._

**You too.**

He waited a couple of minutes but she didn't reply. He pushed the phone back in his pocket and let himself fall back onto his bed with a loud grunt. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. What was it going to be like being with her outside of the prison? He had no idea but he did know that he was looking forward to it maybe more than he should have been.

The knock at his bedroom door was too light to be Jake.

"Yeah?" Cullen called as he looked towards it.

Emily popped her head around the side of the door and smiled when she saw that he was on the bed, his t-shirt riding up his stomach just slightly. Cullen smiled back as his pants grew tight.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting but I wondered if you wanted some…_company_?"

She said the word company in a way that meant so much more.

"Company sounds fucking great," he said as he motioned for her to come in the room with his index finger.

He tried like hell to keep the expression on his face as neutral as he could when Rebecca walked in slowly behind her and closed and locked his bedroom door. _Well, fuck._

"What do they say about three's a crowd?" he said evenly as he lifted himself up onto his forearms.

"I have no idea," Emily said as she grazed her hands slowly over Rebecca's ass while keeping her eyes on Cullen.

_Sweet Jesus._

"Me either," Cullen croaked. He pointed at Rebecca. "You. Take your panties off and sit over there."

He directed her to a large chair that was in the corner of the room facing his bed. There was a momentary pause where the two girls debated silently what to do but all three of them knew what they were there for.

Eventually Rebecca smiled sexily before she pushed up her skirt and did what he had asked. Once she was sitting he turned his attention back to Emily.

"Take your clothes off but leave your panties on."

Her eyes widened at his directness but fuck if it wasn't sexy as hell, just like he was.

She pulled her t-shirt over her head and Cullen swallowed hard when he saw she was wearing no bra. Her tits were nice. He'd seen better but shit they would do after eleven months in the lock up. She unfastened her jeans and stepped out of them, leaving her wearing nothing but a pair of short type panties that showed the bottom of her ass. And it was a nice fucking ass.

"Come here," he ordered. She walked over to him and stood between his legs. "Take mine off."

He gestured to his jeans and cocked an eyebrow when she hesitated slightly. She bent down and began undoing his belt. He lifted his hips from the bed as she pulled them off and threw them to the side.

He smiled when she licked her lips at the tent he was pitching in his boxers.

"If you see it, you have to kiss it," he said deeply.

It hadn't escaped his attention that Rebecca was almost craning her neck from her seat in the corner to see what she was missing.

"That's what I want," Emily said breathily.

"In that case, its all yours," he replied. He lifted again as she pulled down his boxers and bit his tongue when she all but gasped at what she found.

He was well endowed, and he was in no way modest about knowing what to do with what he had been given. He knew how to fuck good and it was a rare occurrence for a woman to leave his bed unsatisfied. However, tonight he didn't want to give, he wanted to take and the woman before him was nothing but fucking willing.

She knelt down before him while she stroked a finger up the underside of his cock making him take a deep breath and he watched anxiously as her lush lips connected softly with the tip. He was just about to tell her to do more when after a minute she did exactly that. She sucked him and twisted her tongue around him.

His head fell back as she did it again.

"That's it," he hissed. "Fuck, that's it."

Cullen looked over at Rebecca and smiled.

"You like watching?" he asked.

She nodded with her eyes trained on her friend as her head bobbed up and down along his dick.

"Does it make you wet?" he asked as he looked down between her legs.

She nodded again and without any further instruction placed her fingers on her pussy and began moving them slowly.

"Shit," he murmured as he watched her.

His eyes became hooded and for a brief moment the brunette sitting fingering her self looked a little like another brunette that he would fucking love to see fingering herself. _Holy fuck._ He moaned at the thought.

The girl on his cock took his noise as encouragement and began to suck harder and deeper. Cullen looked down at her and smiled. She was loving it. Her blue eyes were wide and fixed on his as her tongue began to work its magic up and down his shaft.

"You like sucking cock?" he asked becoming slightly breathless.

She hummed in response and the girl in the corner moaned along with her. He gripped the side of her head and guided her a little faster. His orgasm was sitting on the periphery of his stomach and he needed it to start moving quicker.

"Touch yourself," he gasped as his dick touched the back of her throat. She moaned around him as she pushed her hand into her panties. "That's it. You filthy girl."

She moaned again. What was it with these girls a fucking dirty talk?

He looked over once more at the brunette whose mouth was now wide open while her hand stroked herself as if her life depended on it. He narrowed his eyes again as he watched her. Yeah, he could see her. _Peaches._ Fuck, she would look so fucking good touching her self like that. His cock twitched and he groaned.

He began to thrust his hips into the blonde's mouth and thanked fuck that her gag reflex was above normal. He needed to cum. Fucking Christ he needed to cum.

"Harder," he gasped through gritted teeth. "Suck my cock harder."

His words obviously did the trick for the brunette as she cried out and began bucking her hips against the two fingers that were buried deep inside herself.

"Yeah," Cullen moaned as he watched.

Peaches, would cum so hard for him.

"Fuck yeah." He would make her scream so loud, "Fucking shit!"

He groaned loudly as he came in the blonde's throat in three long hot streams that she swallowed like a fucking champ. She came as he did, gasping and moaning around his twitching dick

It wasn't the hardest orgasm he had ever had but shit it felt good to finally have someone else participating. He dropped back on the bed and took a couple of deep breaths. He smiled and chuckled when he heard the two girls suddenly start giggling.

"Well, ladies," he said as he sat up and reached for his jeans with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "I have to say that was…that was the best company I've had for a while."

They giggled more. He reached down and grabbed Rebecca's panties off of the floor. He walked over to her and leaned down placing a soft kiss on her cheek as he put them in her lap.

"Thanks for the show," he said with an arrogant smirk.

"Thank _you_," she replied as she stroked her hand down his chest.

He stood up and watched as the blonde sauntered over to him and reached up to kiss his lips. He turned his face at the last moment and slapped her ass making her yelp.

"You have one killer mouth, sweetheart," he murmured at the side of her neck. He grinned as she shivered against him. He fastened his jeans and then his belt before clapping his hands together. "What do you two say to some more tequila?"

They both smiled widely and nodded. He turned and unlocked his door.

"I'll get on that while you two dirty girls get dressed."

He winked at them and walked out of his room to a few whistles and cheers which he answered with his middle fingers.

Yeah, he thought with a smile. Freedom, right then, was fucking good.

**Holy Cullen with a wet dick makes me hot as hell, Batman!**

**Christ, help me when it's Peaches on the end of it. DAYUM!**

**Once again, apologies for all you readers who don't like the, none Cullen/Peaches couplings but believe me when I say they are necessary for both character and plot development.**

**Leave me love.**

**TTFN xxx**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello!**

**Well, fuck the last chapter certainly got some feathers ruffled!**

**To all of you who reviewed and PM'd me to tell me that you understood that Cullen has been locked away for 11 MONTHS and that he was bound to get his dick wet at some point, I thank you!**

**You are all amazing and my girls on Twitter were fabulous with their support. I bow down to your greatness.**** Rachel1313 – loves ya sweetie xx**

**To those of you who didn't like it, I apologise but there ****was**** a clear warning at the top of the chapter.**

**I also just wanted to say that if you do find it too hard to read none canon couplings it is unnecessary to threaten any author with 'I'm no longer reading this' blah blah blah bullshit.**

**I respect your views so just stop reading. I don't want to hear about it.**

**Ok, rant over *deep breaths***

**WARNING: There is some touchy feely stuff in this chapter that does include Peaches but does not include Cullen. There are no sex acts. **

**Just skim babies!**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 16: Lines in the Sand**

_Security is when everything is settled. When nothing can happen to you. Security is the denial of life._**Germaine Greer**

Renee Swan was a complex woman. Many who didn't know her personally considered her aloof, arrogant and somewhat standoffish but no one, not even those who disliked her, could deny her strength.

When her husband - Senator Charles Swan - had been ruthlessly murdered by seven thugs high on whatever it was they had managed to take that fateful night, she had remained stoic, calm and strong while in the public domain. She received offers of condolence from voters, strangers and many of her husband's colleagues with a smile and a nod of thanks. Everyone marveled at her strength and togetherness after such a terrible loss.

But inside, deep down where no one could see, Renee Swan had been dying.

Inside herself she felt as though her entire heart had been ripped from her chest leaving only a gaping hole that could not be filled by words of sympathy or touches from loved ones.

Charles Swan had been her everything. He _was_ everything to Renee and when she was told that her husband had died; beaten so violently that his brain had bled causing a massive stroke, she had contemplated taking her own life just to be with him: An easy, selfish and desperate way out.

That was at her lowest point.

How could she possible go on living when the only man she had ever loved; ever been intimate with was no longer at her side? It was a question that for so long had no rational or easy answer.

For weeks after his death and the resulting state funeral and services that took place, Renee took to the bed that she had shared with her husband - her Charlie - and cried. She had screamed, shouted, thrown things, hit things, hit herself and still the pain remained. The hole was wide and deep and nothing could staunch the flow of grief that poured from it every time her eyes opened and she realized that Charlie was _still_ dead.

Nothing of course, except her daughter.

Her little Isabella, who had witnessed the murder of her precious father, who was silent and pale and desperate for her own mother to give her words that, would pull her from the grief that was consuming her so entirely. Renee knew that she had been selfish in her own sorrow. She knew that her little girl needed her and by Christ she needed her too, but the harsh truth was, was that Renee could barely look at her darling Isabella, without seeing her husband, in everything that she did.

Every movement, mannerism, look that her daughter gave was so much her husband that, for a long time, Renee could only spend small amounts of time in her company.

DNA, it seemed, was as cruel as it was fascinating.

It broke Renee's already ruptured heart further and contributed in Isabella's belief that her Mommy blamed her for the death of her hero worshipped Daddy. She should have stopped those bad men. If that stranger hadn't been there she may have been able to. The anguished '_what-if's'_ of a nine year old girl who wanted nothing more than to see her father walk through the door with a pack of Oreo's that the two of them would finish along with a pint of milk in front of the TV. He only ate the middle part which was fine with Isabella who lived for the cookie part.

After counsel from professionals and family, Renee slowly began to realize what she was doing to her own child. And it hurt. She was devastated when she heard Isabella's thoughts about Renee's blame and the fact that all she wanted was her mother to hold her.

Once the guilt and acceptance for her actions tapered, Renee realized how lucky she was that she still had her daughter at all and that no matter how much she tried to ignore the horrendous image; she had come close to losing her too.

She would be forever grateful for whatever divine intervention occurred for keeping her baby safe.

She had a beautiful, brown haired, wide eyed, living, breathing connection to her cherished husband and she would always treasure and protect that, no matter what the cost, for the rest of her life.

Renee's life mission however had been difficult.

As well as looking just like her father, Isabella had inherited his determined pigheadedness. She was stubborn to a fault and once decided on something she could never be swayed. Renee couldn't hide her utter dismay and panic when her daughter had called to tell her that she was taking a job in a prison, and the argument that followed it was the worst they had ever had. Renee knew that in her attempts at keeping her - now fully grown - daughter safe was bordering on smothering, but dammit, did she not see the risk that she was taking?

Every time that the two women had seen each other since Isabella's decision to work at Arthur Kill, there had been an underlying tension between the two of them, with Isabella refusing to back down or listen to reason. As much as it pained Renee to see her daughter dismiss her worries so easily, she couldn't help but take comfort in the spirit of her husband that shone from their daughter.

No matter how much sleep she lost over her daughter's choices, she knew that wherever Charlie was that he would have been so proud of his Bells.

"Mom, you look like your suffering from trapped gas," Isabella pointed out as she took a sip from her glass of wine. "What's up?"

Leah, who was sitting at Isabella's side on Renee's large suede couch, giggled into her own glass as she saw the daggers shoot from Renee's eyes.

"I was just thinking, Isabella. No need to be crude."

Isabella smiled at her mother who couldn't help but smile a little back in return.

It was Friday night and as was tradition once a month - while Phil was at his poker game - Isabella stayed the night at her mom's. She had invited Leah to keep the conversation light. As much as Isabella loved her mother, the conversation could at times become slightly terse. Leah's verbose nature was a sure fire way of assuring that didn't happen.

"So, Leah," Renee said as she tucked her legs underneath herself while cradling her own wine glass. "How's work?"

Isabella sat and listened to her friend tell her mother all about her job, and how she was enjoying life in the property development fast lane. She knew that her own career would be given a wide berth and honestly, that shit was fine with her. She didn't want to explain herself again and defend her choices AGAIN. The conversation was boring and unnecessary.

"And how is Jamie? I haven't seen him in a while," Renee asked softly.

Leah shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. "He's all loved up so none of us ever see him nowadays."

Renee's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Loved up?" she repeated as she glanced at Isabella. "But I thought that…well, I thought…" 

Isabella laughed and shook her head at her mother's stammering. She knew exactly what she had thought.

"Jamie and I are friends, Mom, nothing more. I know you and his mom had already bought outfits for the wedding you both hoped for but no. Sorry."

Leah laughed again at Renee's slightly disappointed expression.

"Well, you can't blame me for trying. He is a handsome young man from such a good family and the two of you were always so close." 

Isabella immediately glared at Leah so that nothing stupid came out of her friend's lax mouth. It would just be Isabella's luck that Leah would mention something about just how close she and Jamie had gotten when they were younger. Leah smiled mischievously into her glass but didn't say anything more.

"I know you're desperate for grandkids, Mom, but can we hold off just a little longer?" Isabella said with a smile.

Renee laughed lightly. "Oh, Darling, as much as I would love grandchildren, I just want you to be happy and with someone who will look after you and love you."

"Someone like Peter," Leah blurted out, shielding herself quickly with her elbow as Isabella launched a cushion at her.

"Bitch," Isabella hissed with narrowed eyes that only made Leah laugh more.

"Peter?" Renee asked with a grin. "Who's Peter? Isabella?"

Isabella groaned and rubbed her hand across her forehead. She really didn't want to have this conversation, least of all with her own mother.

"Peter Whitlock, thirty-two, CEO of WCS Communications, tall, sandy blonde hair with an ass that won't quit," Leah continued.

Renee couldn't help but giggle at her daughter's face as it suddenly turned a deep shade of puce.

"Leah Damon, learn when to shut the fuck up!" Isabella cried with open, incredulous arms.

"Isabella Marie!" Renee chastised with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Language!"

"Well," she grumbled like a five year old as she shrank back into the sofa clutching her wine like a life line.

"Oh, come on, Bells. He _is_ a great looking guy and he's _really_ sweet," Leah said as she nudged her friend's knee before describing the present that he had bought Isabella for her birthday to Renee, in finite detail.

"Is he your…boyfriend?" Renee asked tentatively.

"Yes."

"No." Leah and Isabella spoke at the same time.

Isabella took a deep breath wile narrowing her eyes at her best friend. "He's just a friend, Mom. He wants more and I'm dealing with that."

"Teasing the poor guy to death more like," Leah laughed.

"Ok, seriously," Isabella warned with a pointed finger. "I _will_ kill you."

She was only half joking because the truth was that she knew that she _had_ been teasing Peter a little and she was embarrassed by it. She never behaved that way with men. They had shared one heated kiss and another chaste but equally stomach warming one. There was a connection there for sure and Isabella _did_ like him. She just wasn't sure what it was that she was waiting for. There was hesitancy - a damn rock in her stomach - that continually appeared when she was with him and it annoyed her more than she let on.

Why couldn't things be easy? Why couldn't things be natural? She'd had a natural, easy relationship with Jamie and every other man that she came into contact with, romantically or other wise.

Isabella's brain was suddenly accosted by a vision of bronze hair and deep green eyes, wrapped in a tight t-shirt and low riding jeans. _Fuck._ Why did it have to be the Ramones? She fucking_ loved_ the Ramones. All she wanted to do was thank him for the amazingly thoughtful birthday present that he had given her and she had ended up stammering like a fucking idiot. It was a train wreck. Yeah, that wasn't easy _or_ natural.

She swallowed her wine down quickly as she tried to focus back on what her mother was saying.

"Well, I'm sure that he's lovely, Bells," Renee offered nonchalantly but secretly excited that her daughter was in fact dating. "When are you seeing him again?" 

Isabella cleared her throat and avoided her mother's gaze.

"Tomorrow," she answered as she tucked her hair behind her ears. "He's…um he's cooking me dinner."

Renee and Leah exchanged knowing swooning glances that Isabella did her best to ignore.

"A man that can cook is a man you want to keep," Renee said with a small smile that both warmed and clenched at Isabella's heart.

Her dad had loved to cook. Phil did too. Maybe that was why her mother loved him? No. She loved him for many more reasons than that.

Renee no longer felt guilty about thinking of Charlie now that she had Phil in her life. She loved Phil very much but she would also never stop loving her husband. She had never married Phil – even after seven years of being together - and that was fine for the two of them. They were together, partners and, as just to prove what a great man he was, Phil never pushed the issue. He loved her and being with her was enough.

He never felt as though he was living in a dead man's shadow but he also knew that there was a part of Renee's heart that, no matter how much he wanted it, would never belong to him.

Two bottles of wine and a DVD later and Renee, who was feeling a little squiffy, excused herself to bed.

"Goodnight," she whispered as she hugged her daughter to her chest at the bottom of the stairs.

"Goodnight," Isabella answered with a smile as she breathed in her mother's scent.

"I love you," Renee said quietly into Isabella's neck. Isabella held her a little tighter.

"I love you too, Mom," she replied.

"And I only want what's best for you."

"I know," Isabella answered as she rubbed her palm gently across her mother's shoulder blades. "But I'm fine." She stepped back, holding Renee's hands. "I'm great, really."

She leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Ok, Bells," Renee murmured as she tapped her thumb against her daughter's chin. "Goodnight Leah," she called before she turned and made her way to bed.

Isabella exhaled loudly and dropped into the chair that her mother had been sitting in and began twirling the diamond earring in her right ear that her mother and Phil had given her for her birthday.

"She ok?" Leah asked as she gestured with the wine bottle towards Isabella's half empty glass.

"Yeah," she replied as she nodded for more alcohol. "I just think she's had a couple too many glasses."

Leah skimmed the pad of her thumb around the rim of her glass and stole a quick look at her friend.

"Do you think she's thinking about the…anniversary?"

Isabella kept her eyes on the TV screen as she took a small sip of her drink.

"I don't know," she answered quietly, "Maybe."

She knew that her mother would of course be thinking about the anniversary of her father's death. How could she not? It was four weeks away and was drifting ever closer like a black storm cloud on the horizon.

_Sixteen years this year._ Isabella sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

Could it _really_ be that long ago since she had seen or touched or heard her father? It seemed to have gone by in a blink: A painfully sad blink.

Leah cursed herself for the morose expression that now adorned her best friend's face. _Think Leah, think._

"Ok," she said loudly as inspiration hit her, making Isabella jump slightly. "Phil still has his Playstation, right?"

Isabella furrowed her brow in confusion at the conversation shift. "Yeah, I think so."

"Ok, you and me, Swan. _American Idol_!"

Isabella groaned. "Leah!"

"No! No excuses. You and me, let's go. Every bum note and you drink some." She clapped her hands and wiggled her hips like a puppy waiting for a ball to be thrown.

Isabella couldn't help but laugh. "Fine," she surrendered with a smile. "But I am _not_ doing Whitney!"

Of course, she ended up doing Whitney and bummed every second note. If the prize was given for effort however, Isabella would have won fair and square. An hour later and at almost midnight the two women were standing on the couch, singing The Killers '_Mr. Brightside'_ at the top of their lungs. It was just fortunate that the house was big enough that they didn't disturb Renee and that she had no close neighbors to wake.

They collapsed onto the couch as the last note ended in a tangle of limbs and a cacophony of laughter.

It felt so good to laugh, Isabella thought to herself as she watched Leah pour the last of the wine into their glasses.

"So, are you gonna bone Peter tomorrow, or what?" Leah asked with a completely straight face.

"Leah!" Isabella groaned as she reached for her glass at the same time that her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. "Bone? That is an insanely disturbing and exceedingly personal question and the answer is, of course, no comment."

"Boning Peter is _disturbing_?" she snorted incredulously.

"No comment," Isabella muttered with a small smile as she looked at her cell.

"You are _so_ gonna bone," Leah sniggered into her glass.

"OH!" Isabella was more than a little surprised to see a text message from an unknown number that – once she had read the text – apparently belonged to one Edward Cullen.

_Holy shit…_

"What?" Leah asked. "Who is it? Is it Peter?" She clambered over to Isabella's side and frowned when she saw just a cell number and no name above the text.

"It's…um, it's…" Isabella looked up at her fiend then back down at the phone in her hand. "It's Cullen."

"The inmate guy?" Leah asked with a wary tone. "How the fuck did some criminal get your number?"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "I gave it to him you ass in case he needed to get hold of me regarding our sessions! And he isn't just some _'inmate guy'_…he was released today."

Leah eyed her friend carefully. Even through a haze of red wine she could see something different in the way Isabella's face relaxed and looked brighter as she began answering the text. She exhaled down her nose and watched. She raised her eyebrows when a large smile covered Isabella's face and a light blush covered her cheeks.

"Oh, hell, no, Isabella!" she cried with a slap of her palms to her thighs. "You cannot have the hots for your criminal student!"

Isabella's head snapped up to her friends. "I don't have the hots for him! For God's sake, Leah, grow up."

"Oh no?" Leah asked with a sarcastic smirk. "So what's with the blush and the girly giggling shit?"

Isabella's finger tips went immediately to her cheeks. Sure enough they were warm. But fuck that could have been the wine! Maybe?

"Red wine," Isabella muttered with a shrug.

"Bullshit," Leah retorted.

Isabella sent her last message back to Cullen and threw her phone back on the table.

"Ok," she snapped. "Explain, why is it bullshit?"

Her tone was firm and defensive indicating to Leah that she had clearly hit a nerve.

"It's bullshit because you're my best friend and I know how you operate."

Isabella dropped her chin to her chest. She couldn't argue with that and the wine was making it impossible to even try. Her phone buzzed once more.

A text.

From Cullen.

**You too.**

Isabella felt the smile before it had even appeared across her face as she read it. She heard Leah sigh at the side of her.

Yeah, Isabella knew she was in dangerous and shitty territory.

"Bells, talk to me?" Leah said softly.

"There's nothing to say," Isabella replied with her eyes on the phone in her hand.

"I think there is," Leah persisted as she crossed her arms over her chest.

It was Isabella's turn to sigh and be honest with her friend. And herself.

"It's just a small crush, Leah," she said quietly.

There, she had admitted it. She had a crush on Edward Cullen.

"Fuck," she added as she rubbed her forehead as Leah's unnatural silence continued. "What else do you want me to say?"

Leah shook her head. "I don't want you to say anything, sweetie. I just need to know that _you_ understand the consequences of-…"

"I know," Isabella interrupted with an exasperated tone and an equally pissed hand through her hair. "I'm not stupid, Leah. I know where the lines are and I _will not_ cross them."

"Ok," Leah said with a slow nod of her head. She felt slightly comforted by the fervor in Isabella's words. "Ok."

"I'll get over it," Isabella said more to herself than to the concerned girl at her side. "It's…it's stupid, I know and dangerous and…fucking stupid." She lifted her glass and necked the last of the wine within it.

It was so fucking stupid and not simply because she was the teacher and he was her student (how cliché). Edward Cullen was from a different world. He was different species to her – and not because of his criminal past, although that was definitely a factor. He was angry and arrogant, aggressive, violent and cocky. He was everything that she should run away, screaming from. But, she couldn't deny that he was equally, intelligent, sensitive, caring, funny and beautiful.

_He is so fucking beautiful…_

Leah snuggled closer to Isabella's side and hugged her gently. "Bad boy syndrome," she said with a smile that Isabella returned.

"Can I ask you something?" Leah hedged gently.

Isabella scoffed, "Why the hell not?"

"Is this…_he _is he why you get…defensive…when we talk about Peter?"

Isabella sat for a moment, allowing Leah's words to sink slowly into her brain.

Was Cullen why she couldn't allow herself to have an easy and natural relationship with Peter?

Was he why she felt a rock in her stomach every time she tried to move her relationship with him forward?

_Fuck._

She really was fucking stupid. She took a deep breath and looked at Leah who needed no words to confirm her suspicions. Leah simply hugged her friend and let the revelation rest into her bones.

Maybe it was the wine? Maybe it was the fact that she had been thinking about her father's anniversary? Or maybe it was the fact that Cullen had given her the most thoughtful, most precious gift she had ever received in the form of the book, 'Walter the Lazy Mouse'?

Whatever the reason, the tears began falling slowly from Isabella's eyes. She cried silently into Leah's shoulder for a long while until her eyes were dry and her resolve was set.

She sat up slowly, wiping her nose on her sleeve, and looked at Leah determinedly.

"Ok. Enough is enough," she said as she rubbed her palms down her now blotchy face. "_I_ need to grow up and stop acting like a fucking teenager with their first damn crush."

Leah smiled at the almost truth of Isabella's words.

"I'm a professional for fuck's sake!" She poked her index finger into her chest.

"Yes, you are," Leah countered with a supportive fist pump in the air.

"I need to get a fucking grip, stop swooning after a guy that is a complete fantasy and would be no fucking good for me and focus on what is real and what would be."

Leah smiled wider and nodded. "That's my girl," she said as she tucked Isabella's hair behind her ear. "So, what's the plan of action, Swanface?"

Isabella laughed and stood from the sofa.

"The plan of action is to get my ass to bed because _I_ have a date tomorrow night and I need to look fucking spectacular!"

=PoF=

Nineteen hours later and Isabella wasn't feeling as inspired or determined as she might have been had she had two bottle of red wine inside her.

She was nervous, anxious and had rung the door bell of Peter's brownstone twice and he _still_ hadn't answered. She glanced down at her watch. He definitely said seven and it was five after. She adjusted the strap on her left shoulder and clasped her clutch bag to her chest.

"What do I do?" she muttered as she looked up and down the quiet street trying to find the answer to her problem. Cell phone. Call him.

She was just about to open her bag when there was a shuffling and a bang from the other side of the door before it opened to show a very flustered but exceedingly handsome looking Peter Whitlock.

"Shit, I'm sorry, darlin'," he gasped as he shook his head. "I'm so sorry. I was blending some tomatoes and oil and the fucking thing slipped and went everywhere and I had to change my clothes and wash the shit out of my hair and…"

He stopped his rant as Isabella started giggling. He looked at her and smiled. She was fucking gorgeous. He couldn't help but laugh with her.

"Good evening, Isabella," he said after taking a deep breath and standing up straight. "You look amazing. Would you like to come in?" He opened the door wide and gestured with his hand towards the entryway. "If you dare," he laughed.

Isabella laughed behind her hand and nodded. "I'd love to," she managed and stepped into the house.

It was stunning. Deep mahogany floors with cream and light green on the walls gave it a homey feel. It had benefited from the touches of a feminine hand but the tone was essentially masculine.

"Please, come through," Peter said as he directed Isabella towards the back of the house towards the kitchen where his epic culinary disaster had taken place.

"This place is beautiful, Peter," she said as she took in the steel and wood around her. It was a huge space and she at once thought about cooking in it herself.

"Thank you," Peter replied as he pulled a bottle of white wine from the fridge. "My ex-wife wasn't much of a cook but I love it. So, I got first dibs." He smiled at her and gestured with the bottle towards her, making sure it was what she liked.

"Please," she answered in reference to the wine as she placed her bag onto the island in the centre of the kitchen. "I love to cook too," she confessed.

"Really?" Peter asked as he popped the cork from the bottle.

"Yeah," she continued with a small laugh. "I'm not very good at it but I always think that I'll get points for trying."

Peter laughed back and nodded. He picked up the two full glasses and walked towards her. He handed her, her glass and chinked his against it.

"To you," he said softly.

"Thank you."

She watched as he took a sip of his drink and let her eyes wander down his body. He was wearing a loose fitting dark brown button down shirt with a white t-shirt that poked from under the second button that was undone. He had on a pair of black jeans and his feet were bare.

He noticed where she was looking and shifted in embarrassment at his naked toes.

"Sorry," he said before he cleared his throat. "The sauce went fucking everywhere. I may not be able to wear those socks again."

Isabella laughed again. "It's fine. You should be comfortable in your own home."

"Well, I want my guests to be too, so, feel free to take off your shoes or whatever." Peter snapped his mouth shut quickly when he realized what he had said. _Shit._ "I didn't mean that the way it sounded, Isabella, shit," he said with a grimace.

"Oh? That's a shame," Isabella answered immediately as she sipped from her glass, keeping her eyes on the floor and his wiggling feet.

Peter swallowed hard and his eyes widened. _Well, damn._

"Why don't I…um, take you on a tour of the house?" he said as he placed his glass on the side.

"Sounds great," Isabella answered, finally meeting his gaze.

She was feeling slightly better, calmer and definitely perkier and the rock was nowhere to be seen – praise Jesus!

Peter placed his hand at the small of her back and Isabella found that she liked it. He led her through to the living room where there were many pictures of Peter's son Henry gracing both the walls and the shelves. She took her time to look at them closely. They were mostly in black and white and the ones she liked best were the ones that had both Henry and Peter in them.

Peter watched enraptured as Isabella wandered around the room. Her hair was up and he decided quickly that he loved the curve of her neck and the shape of her upper back. He allowed himself to wonder what her skin would taste like there.

"He's very much like you," Isabella said as she replaced one particular picture of Peter and his son back on the table it was seated on.

Peter smiled and pushed his hands into his pockets. "He's a lot like his mother too," he said with a sigh. "Hot tempered and argumentative. But the good looks he gets from me, sure."

Isabella smiled at the softness of his tone and followed Peter up the stairs where he showed her the huge bathroom and four bedrooms that lay there.

Once back in the kitchen and with a replenished glass of wine and a seat, it was Isabella's turn to watch Peter, as he began preparing their meal. She watched him as he moved gracefully and confidently from one side of the room to the other, never missing a beat in the conversation and always asking questions about her: Her favorite holidays and why, her fondest memories of school. He asked about her friends and her mom and what gifts they had given her for her birthday. He was genuinely interested and it made Isabella feel warm inside.

She stood and walked over to the side where he was neatly cutting up a stick of celery on the chopping board.

"Can I help?" she asked as she watched him. He smiled and shook his head.

"No, Isabella. Please, relax. It'll be ready in around twenty minutes. Is that ok?" He looked up at her from his chopping and instantly their eyes met.

She noticed his eyes drop to her mouth and bit her lower lip in nervous response. Peter blinked and placed the knife down before wiping his hands on the towel that he had thrown over his shoulder as he worked. He turned to face Isabella and cleared his throat.

"Have I told you how incredible you look tonight?" he asked quietly as he looked down at her dress once more. It was sexy and seductive in an utterly implicit way which simply exacerbated the effect a million times over.

"Yes," Isabella answered as she leaned back against the granite work top as Peter took a slow, cautious step towards her.

He didn't want to frighten the beautiful creature he had in his house. He stood in front of her and placed his hands lightly on her shoulders.

"Is this ok?" he asked to which Isabella nodded.

He moved his hands gently to cup her small face. His palms were soft against her skin as his thumbs ghosted over the apples of her cheeks. She found herself leaning into his hold which Peter was ecstatic about.

"Isabella," he all but croaked. "May I kiss you?"

Isabella unconsciously licked her lips before replying, "Yes."

Peter smiled a little as his stomach twisted at her words and leaned down; keeping his eyes on hers, as their lips gently touched.

Isabella closed her eyes and breathed down her nose as the warmth of his mouth settled into her skin. The kiss started innocent enough, slight pressure and softness, before Isabella opened her mouth slightly, eliciting a small moan from Peter. He deepened the kiss instantly, hopelessly aware that he had to follow her lead. She had told him that she wanted to take it slow and he was more than willing but Christ he wanted her.

Isabella moved her hands to Peter's neck and pulled him closer until he was pressing her against the kitchen top. He was ridiculously hard and he shifted his hips away from her so that he wasn't making a point of it – as much as he fucking wanted to. Isabella felt him move and without thinking, pushed her hips out towards him to feel what she knew he was hiding. This time they both moaned as his cock rubbed against her stomach.

The kiss suddenly became much more heated. Peter pushed his tongue into Isabella's mouth and licked and sucked, leaving her breathless and very hot. She gripped the hair at the nape of his neck and gave as good as she got with the kiss, nipping at his lips and tongue while rubbing up against him like a cat.

Peter's hands traveled down her back to her ass which he squeezed and massaged with the tips of his fingers, hitching her dress up as he did. Isabella moaned into his mouth, feeling the heat pool between her legs as he did it again.

_Fuck that's hot…_

"Is that good? Do you like that?" Peter gasped between kisses to which Isabella groaned and nodded in response, never breaking the connection their lips had made.

At the sound Peter bent his knees slightly so that he could grab Isabella's thigh and pulled it up to his waist, holding her with his chest so that she remained steady. He let his hand wander up the bare skin of the underside of her leg, smiling as he felt goose flesh all over. She was so fucking soft and warm. _Jesus._

She ground against him again and grunted when she felt his jean covered cock rub her just above where she was starting to really fucking need it. _Let yourself go, Bells, Leah had said._ And she planned to.

That was until she felt Peter grip her waist tightly, holding her away from his body and pull his mouth back too.

He pressed his forehead against hers with his eyes closed and his chest rising and dropping with the sheer power that it took not to fuck the life out of her on top his granite work tops.

Isabella opened her eyes slowly in confusion and laid her hands on either side of his waist.

"Isabella," he whispered before licking his lips and swallowing. "As God is my witness, I want nothing more than to keep going, right here, right now. Fuck, darlin' I want to."

Isabella breathed in deeply at the sound of his gruff drawl.

"But this isn't taking things slowly," he said as he pulled his head back and looked down at her. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Isabella stared up at the breathless, sexy man in front of her and felt her chest twist. She _had_ said that and as much as she thought throwing her self into – whatever it was that was between the two of them – it wasn't right. They both knew it. It was too fast. She avoided his eyes before smiling resignedly.

"It is what I want," she breathed as she looked up at him, feeling a little embarrassed about her brazen behavior. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't hav-…"

Peter's face scowled instantly. "Whoa, whoa, don't you dare apologize." He cupped the left side of her face. "I'm as much to blame as you." He looked down almost sheepishly at his hand holding her thigh and let her foot lower slowly back to the floor.

"You're just hard to resist," he said with a deep breath as he kissed her forehead and took a step back.

Isabella laughed lightly as she adjusted her dress. "You too," she murmured making Peter smile.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Let's have dinner, have a couple more drinks and talk. Nice and slow. Ok?"

"Sounds good," she replied with a smile.

And that's what they did.

The conversation for a small amount of time after the whole, grinding leg incident - as Isabella called it in her mind - was a little forced, but once Peter served dinner the two of them once again found that they could talk about pretty much anything without many awkward silences. The food was delicious and Isabella complimented the chef numerous times throughout the meal. Once they had finished the exquisite dessert of chocolate and mint mousse and after Isabella had insisted on helping with the clearing up, they made their way into the living room where Peter offered to give her a foot massage.

"No funny business. Scout's honor," he promised as he sat at the opposite end of the sofa and lifted her feet onto his lap.

As sensual and as good as his hands felt on the bottom of her feet, Isabella didn't feel the urge to do anything more. She watched him as he rubbed and squeezed her feet in his palms and knew that in that moment it was enough. She had instantly ignored the sting of rejection that had threatened when Peter had pulled away, knowing that what he was saying was right.

They had come close to crossing a line and they had managed to pull back.

Peter had pulled them both back because Peter was a good guy. Peter was safe.

=PoF=

"So, how did you two leave it?"

"We kissed goodnight and planned to see each other again soon," Isabella answered into her cell as she climbed up the steps at the front of the library the following Monday afternoon.

"And how do you feel about that?" Leah asked cautiously.

"I feel fine about it," Isabella replied nonchalantly as she reached the top and stopped. She took a quick breath. "He's a great guy."

"Yeah, he is and he obviously cares about you to stop what sounds like a fuck hot kitchen grind."

Isabella laughed and felt her cheeks warm, "Yeah."

"You ok, Bells?" Leah asked, hearing the faraway tone in her friend's voice.

"Mmhm, I've just gotten to the library so I have to go."

"The library, huh? Is he there yet?" Leah asked softly.

Isabella felt her stomach do a flip-flop and cursed it immediately. "I don't know. I told him where to meet me when I texted him yesterday but he didn't reply."

"Well, I hope it goes well. Do your teacher thing and you'll be fine. It's just a stupid crush remember."

Isabella laughed nervously, while glancing around herself and nodded into the phone. "I know. Speak to you later."

She ended the call and after rubbing her hands down her skirt and pulling her bag up onto her shoulder, she made her way into the library. She walked towards the grand welcome desk and smiled at Mrs. Cope who had worked at the library for decades. She was there the day that the Charles Swan reading room was opened after his passing.

"Good afternoon, Isabella," she said as she pushed her glasses up her small nose. Her whole face wrinkled when she smiled.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Cope. You're looking well."

The old lady blushed and waved her hand dismissively. "You're here to use the reading room?" she asked as she flicked through the papers on her desk.

"I am," Isabella replied. "I have booked it indefinitely for these days at these times."

"Yes," Mrs. Cope muttered as she took the paper from Isabella's hand. "Ah, here we are, Dear." She handed her the sign in sheet which was empty. Cullen had obviously not arrived.

Isabella signed her name and looked back at the entryway of the library. "When my student gets here can you tell him to come straight through once he's signed in?"

"Of course," Mrs. Cope replied with her wrinkles in full effect.

Isabella made her way through the immaculate building towards the reading room that had been constructed as part of her father's wishes in his will. Isabella had always loved to read and he had wanted to create somewhere that not only she, but other people, could go, to be still with a book and lose themselves in the pages that they read.

His plan was to do it before his fiftieth birthday – which he never saw.

Isabella dropped her bags down onto one of the large oak tables and sat down. She pulled out all her resources ready for Cullen so that they could get straight into the work. She didn't want to dilly dally about. She got flustered enough in his presence.

Once that was done she crossed her legs and waited. Her foot tapped the leg of the table and she suddenly realized that she was biting her thumb nail – a habit that she hadn't revisited since she was a teenager. She moaned and rubbed her forehead at the thought.

Fifteen minutes passed and she was still alone. Alone but fucking pissed.

"Where the fuck is he?" she hissed as she checked her phone for any missed messages or texts. There were none. She tapped the screen of her phone against her knuckle and bit the inside of her mouth in annoyance.

She should have known that he'd let her down. He was a newly released criminal who had his wild oats to sew. Why the hell would he waste time with her – even if it was part of the conditions of his parole? She was stupid to even think that he meant it when he said he wanted to keep their sessions going. _Jackass!_

Another fifteen minutes passed and with a huff and a string of quietly spoken expletives, she began to pack her things away. _Fuck him._ If he didn't want to take it seriously then why should she give a shit?

A hand on her shoulder made her scream and whirl around to be faced with the man himself.

"Shit! Don't fucking scream!" Cullen urged with his palms out towards her in surrender. "It's only me."

She gripped her palm to her chest to calm her pounding heart and took a deep breath. "Fuck's sake you scared me to death."

"I gathered," he replied as he discreetly looked her up and down.

_Hair down. Check. Tight top. Check. Pencil skirt with heels. Check. Hard on. Check._

He grumbled in his chest and ran a hand through his hair. A hand which, Isabella noticed was covered in oil.

In fact, most of his body was covered in oil.

She took a moment to look at him from head to toe. His hair was shorter; he'd obviously made a trip to the barbers but it was it's usual chaotic self. His face, well, his face was his face: epically beautiful. But that too had a smearing of oil across his right cheek and through his left eyebrow. His t-shirt – which was a black Strokes affair – was tight and dirty and his jeans, Isabella could only assume, _used_ to be blue denim.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Cullen smirked as he watched her eyes wander over him. He liked the way it felt.

"I had a fight with a V8 engine and lost," he replied with a grin. "That's why my ass is late."

The cocky look on his face reminded Isabella that she was pissed at him. She stood up straight and flicked her hair over her shoulder.

"Yes, you are late," she growled. "So, the session is cancelled." She spun back around to continue throwing her resources back in her bag.

Cullen laughed briefly and then realized she wasn't yanking his chain.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked as he watched her as she banged her shit about.

"No," Isabella snapped, not turning back to him. "I am not fucking kidding you. You are late and I am not here for shits and giggles while you fuck around with your V8 toys and don't even text or call to let me know!"

Cullen, utterly incensed, grabbed the top of her arm and spun her around to face him. She gasped at the livid expression on his flawless face.

"Hey," he barked with his nose only inches from hers. "Stop fucking bitching and throwing shit for a minute and calm the fuck down."

She breathed in his scent. It was deep, rich, smoky, musky and metallic and made parts of her body tingle in a way that made her breathless.

"Get. Off. Me," she ordered through gritted teeth.

Cullen looked down quickly at his hand on her arm and let go immediately. "Sor-…sorry," he muttered, even though his eyes were still thunderous.

Isabella watched him as he ran his hands through his hair. "Look, don't leave ok. Just let me fucking explain before you go fucking postal on me."

She exhaled down her nose heavily and crossed her arms over her chest, "Fine. Explain."

Cullen narrowed his eyes at her tone but she just stared right back at him. She was shit hot sexy when she was angry. He couldn't deny that shit. It just was. As usual he didn't know whether to shake some sense into her or fuck her senseless. _Decisions, decisions…_

"As stated in my parole," he started through tight lips. "My job is working at a body shop that my friend owns." He gestured sarcastically towards the oil that was all over his clothes. "I started back today and he was having trouble with the engine on a Corvette. I offered to help just before I left and it went to shit. I _would_ have called or texted you, _Miss Swan_, but I was busy making sure that two hundred pound engine parts weren't falling onto the heads of my _fucking_ co-workers."

He mirrored her pose and waited for her response with a cocked eyebrow. _So fucking there…_

Isabella looked right back at him and considered what he had said. He looked so masculine and strong, standing in his dirty clothes with a days worth of stubble. He oozed carnal sex and feral beauty. When he had gripped her arm, he hadn't hurt her, but the sizzle of his hands on her was hard to fucking ignore. She couldn't ignore it because it was still there; buzzing deep inside her in places only he could reach.

_Just a crush, Isabella…_

She dropped her arms and sighed as she scratched her left temple. She evaded his glare and shrugged.

"Fine. Whatever," she muttered.

"I'm sorry. What?" Cullen asked as he bent down slightly so that he was eye level with her.

"I said fine. Let's get on with it," she bit back. "Can we get on, please?" She gestured abruptly towards the chair on the other side of the table.

Cullen tapped his foot in annoyance before walking around to where she wanted him. He dropped his bag and himself into the chair and opened it to pull out the snack he had grabbed from the shop by his work. He was fucking starving.

Isabella watched surreptitiously as he pulled out a large packet of Oreo cookies and placed them on the table.

"You're not allowed to eat in here" she said firmly.

"And?" He looked around the room to see it was only the two of them. "Are you gonna tell on me?" he challenged her through his ridiculously long eyelashes.

Isabella simply rolled her eyes and sat down with a thump into her chair. "Just don't make a mess."

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered as he pulled out a cookie, pulled it apart and licked the middle cream centre like it was – well, the middle part of a fucking Oreo cookie. He fucking loved Oreo cookies.

Isabella couldn't tear her eyes away from his tongue as it flicked up, down and around, leaving no white visible anywhere. _Holy shit…_

_I am not wet. I am not wet…_

Isabella cleared her throat and pushed her papers towards him as he put the two cookie parts back together and rested them carefully on a napkin that he had also retrieved from his bag. He perused the paper in front of him before he noticed how quiet she was. He looked up at her to see her staring at the remains of his Oreo. He glanced between them numerous times with awry smile.

"What, Peaches? You want my cookie?" he asked with a grin.

"You…um, you only…you only eat the inside?" she stammered.

He shrugged. "Yeah," he answered. "I don't really care for the rest of it. You're free to have the side I haven't had my fucking tongue all over." _Although I'd rather have my tongue all over/in/on you…_

"No," Isabella answered quickly with a shake of her head. "I'm good. Thank you."

Cullen nodded, and wondered why her face looked the way it did: almost faraway and sad.

"Well, the offer's there," he said brightly, trying to change it back to the beautiful expression he liked the best. "And don't worry, I won't tell either."

Isabella smiled and tapped the papers between them. "Tell me what you know about this poem."

He glanced down at it and smiled. "Well, well, Peaches, you make me blush. This is quite a change from Tichborne's Elegy."

Isabella smirked slightly and waved her hand for him to continue.

"_The Flea_ by Donne, is an example of his using a usually insignificant action: killing a flea, and turning it into a sexually deviant metaphor."

"Sexually deviant?" Isabella questioned.

Cullen dropped his chin to his chest slightly and smiled. "Don't get coy with me, Peaches. You know as well as I do that the poem is about Donne wanting to _fuck_ his mistress out of wed lock."

Isabella crossed her legs as the word 'fuck' rolled off his lips. She was sure he did that shit on purpose. She had heard him say it many, many times before, but when used in its correct context, it was a damn sight more powerful.

"Care to elaborate?" she said as evenly as she could but Cullen had already noticed the blush that was creeping up her neck.

"Well, at the time this poem was written, fucking out of wed lock was social taboo. When Donne talks of the blood that the flea has taken from both him and his mistress he is clearly talking about bodily fluids being shared."

"Hmm," Isabella mused, keeping her eyes on the poem.

_Why the fuck did she choose this poem? _

"Hmm?" Cullen asked as he shifted his chair closer to his Peaches. "Is that an 'I agree with everything you just said, Cullen' hmm or a 'You have no fucking clue what you're talking about,' hmm?"

_It's a say fuck and bodily fluids again kind of hmm…_

"No, no, you're absolutely right," Isabella said quickly as her hair fell across her face, shielding her from his eyes that she could feel were looking straight into her. _Dangerous, Bells…_

Cullen frowned. He didn't like it when she was closed off from him. He had thought that they would be far more open with each other once he was out. But it seemed, like he had feared after the fucking car lot debacle, they were back at square one.

Without taking a moment to think about what he was doing and without the fear of having guards around them, he pushed her hair behind her ear and lifted her face to his by putting his fingers under her chin.

"Peaches," he murmured. "Where are you?" he asked quietly with nothing but concern in his eyes.

Isabella swallowed and stared at the green of his irises, wondering what it would be like to swim in them.

"I'm here," she whispered. _With you and I want to be and I shouldn't…_

Cullen shook his head. "No you're not." He rubbed her chin gently with the tip of his thumb. "You're miles away."

He knew her. They both knew that much.

"I was…um, I was just thinking…um, I know there's a critique on this poem in this room." She pulled her chin gently from his fingers and made to stand up. "I'll go and find it. Why don't you…um, make some notes on your copy so we can discuss them when I get back."

She pushed her chair back and hurriedly walked towards the shelves she knew held all the Literature and critical works of each of them. Her heels clicked against the hard wood floor, echoing off the tall book shelves and high walls.

Cullen watched her go as he slumped back in his seat, having no clue what the fuck just happened. He picked up another Oreo and began to lick.

Had he done too much with the hair, chin thing? He was fucked if he knew. He didn't want her to think he was taking advantage of the no guard, no camera situation; not that he hadn't thought about that shit since the minute he had woken up that morning with a hard on that could have stopped a goddamn freight train.

Whacking off in the shower was becoming tedious.

Three Oreos later, and she still wasn't back. He checked the time on his phone and sighed.

"Fuck this," he grumbled as he stood from his chair, shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered in the direction that she had disappeared in.

"Peaches?" he said in a stage whisper as he looked down each aisle in search of her.

He had checked four of the motherfuckers before he finally found her, standing on a two wrung ladder, reaching for a book on the highest shelf. He walked up to her, slowly and quietly, his eyes level with the back of her calves. He couldn't help but lick her lips at the sight of the soft creamy skin. _Who the fuck needs Oreos?_

Peaches hadn't noticed him standing there, leaning against the shelves, tracing the curve of her leg with his pupils. His hand twitched of its own volition and before he had any comprehension of what he was doing he was reaching out to stroke the back of her knee with the back of his index and middle finger.

"Cullen!"

He jumped like a bitch at her voice but then quickly righted himself as Peaches wobbled on the step and slipped back, grabbing at the books as she did. He clutched at her waist, grazing the underside of her tits as he made sure that she didn't hit the floor, murmuring a low fuck as he did. She landed against his hard chest, as a loud 'oomf' came from it as his back his the opposite book shelf.

"Shit," he groaned as he stretched his back and felt it crack.

"Jesus Cullen, that's twice today you've scared the hell out of me!" Isabella moaned as she stepped gingerly away from the confines of the large hands around her waist and the feel of him against her back.

"Yeah, don't mention it," he grumbled. "I just saved your fucking life." He pointed to the steps and then to her while rubbing the bottom of his spine that had knocked against the bastard shelf.

Isabella tried not to notice the muscles that he showed as he did.

"Yeah," she muttered. "Thanks for that."

"No problem," he replied as he stepped towards her. "Are you ok?"

She had taken a step back from him, which they both noticed and both ignored, although Cullen's frown gave his distaste for the movement away completely. He leaned towards her, placing the flat of his palm against the spines of the books at the left side of her face. He could smell her hair. _Peaches._

"Are you ok?" he repeated slowly.

She nodded and licked her lips. "Yes…um, thank you."

Cullen smiled as he felt his cock twitch at the sight of her small tongue. "Anytime Peaches," he whispered back.

"Are you ok, Miss Swan?"

Both Cullen and Isabella jumped at the sound of Mrs. Cope's voice and both blinked quickly at how close they had been standing to one another. Isabella's chest at once felt cold.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied as she looked from Cullen back to the old lady who was eying the six-foot-two Adonis with much younger eyes.

"I heard a scream," she uttered as she adjusted her glasses.

"Yeah," Cullen interrupted. "That was me. I saw a spider. Fucking huge it was." He showed her with his hands in a wide circle. Isabella held back a smile but failed miserably. "I'm terrified of the bastards. Isabella saved me."

He flashed her, his trade mark smile to seal the deal - teeth fully showing and everything -but the small librarian didn't look at all impressed, least of all with the language she was hearing.

"Well, as long as you're ok?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Mrs. Cope," Isabella assured her.

The old lady took one more disapproving but amorous look at Cullen before disappearing back towards her desk.

Isabella creased into giggles that Cullen couldn't help but enjoy. He laughed too as he watched her small nose crease up and emit a small snort.

"Spiders," she managed, once she caught her breath.

"What?" he asked as he leaned against the book shelf next to her. "I hate the fuckers."

Isabella looked at him and shook her head. "You're one on your own Mr. Cullen."

He smiled back at her and winked.

They looked at each other for a small moment, seemingly lost in their own thoughts, before Isabella slapped the large book she had grappled from the shelf into Cullen's stomach.

"Fuck!" he groaned.

"Here," she said with a wry smile. "Let's find out more about your 'deviant sexual metaphors.'"

Cullen laughed as he watched her fine ass walk away.

"I thought you'd never fucking ask," he muttered before following quickly after her.

**Holy library was fucking intense Batman!**

**Well, I hope the first session was what you expected? I hope…**

**Poor Peaches, still so confused…she'll get there people, give her time…**

**Follow me on Twitter (at)sophiejax or follow PAW (at)PunkAssWard – he's a grumpy bugger!**

**Leave me love…or hate.**

**TTFN xxx**


	18. Chapter 18

**I know, I know, an early update. I spoil you.**

**I couldn't help myself. After his apparent silence last week PAW obviously took verbose pills over the weekend and here we are.**

**Massive huge, gargantuan thanks to everyone who is taking the time to read AND review. I am still left staggered by the reaction to this story and I am, as always, truly humbled. Thank you.**

**To all the girls on Twitter – if I could list you all I would - who seem to have endless love for PAW and his Peacherella – you are all wonderful and you all brighten my day. Thank you. (Rachel and Kristen – MWAH) Your love will be rewarded, I promise.**

**Talking of the Twitter PAW ladies, northernsally and swino16 came up with the idea of a UST rating for each chapter. The idea being that the higher the UST rating (10 being the highest) the more likely it is that you will need a cold shower or a trip to Iceland to cool down after reading. Genius if you ask me!**

**With this being the first chapter of this UST barometer in place, I may be off in terms of what you all deem correct, so please do not hesitate to give me your thoughts.**

**UST LEVEL: 8.5**

**Sorry for the mammoth A/N…see you on the other side…oh, and Twilight is SM's; PAW? mine, mine, mine…**

**Chapter 17: A Paradox**

_Do what you will, this world's a fiction and is made up of contradiction.__**William Blake**_

"Fuck it!"

Cullen looked up from the screwed up carburetor in his hand with a cocked eyebrow to see Jake kicking the tire rim of the blue V6 Mustang he had been working on and cursing at for the past hour.

"Whoa, whoa, man, chill out. We don't hit ladies," Cullen said with a smirk as he walked towards him, while wiping his grease covered hands on a white rag that he pulled from his pocket. "What's up?"

Jake threw his hands through his hair and bit his tongue. He was just about ready to pull his lighter from his jeans and set the fucking thing alight.

"This fucking piece of crap," he hissed, gesturing towards the car.

Cullen's eyes widened in mock horror and he quickly placed his palms against the driver's door of the vehicle.

"Don't listen, baby," he whispered to the car. "He doesn't mean it."

Jake shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Whatever man, I'm fucking done."

Cullen frowned at his friend and leaned his forearm on the car roof. "You're done?" he asked in a baiting tone. "You give up so easy?"

"No. I don't give up easy," Jake snapped back, taking Cullen by surprise. "I just can't…the fucking thing is still idling high and…for fuck's sake, Seth, turn that fucking shit down!"

Jake bellowed with a pointed finger across the shop towards Seth who scurried quickly to the stereo in the corner of the room. He turned the Foo Fighters down to a dull roar. A travesty, he thought to himself.

Cullen had kept his stare on Jake for the entire exchange, knowing that there was more to Jake's bitching and apparent PMS than the fuck awesome sounds of Dave Grohl. Jake ignored Cullen's 'all knowing' look by dropping his chin to his chest and exhaling loudly. He turned from him and opened a can of Coke that he proceeded to gulp down.

Once it was finished he turned back to his friend and leaned against the wall before sliding down it. He took another deep breath and let his eyes meet Cullen's briefly before explaining quietly, "My blood sugar is low, man. Sorry."

Jake had been diagnosed with Hypoglycemia when he was a kid. He managed to keep his blood sugars on a fairly normal level but he was a cranky son of a bitch when they dropped. Cullen reached begrudgingly into his back pocket and retrieved his bag of mini Oreos, throwing them at Jake's chest who looked down at them and smiled.

"You sure?" he asked as he shook the bag of delights.

"Yeah," Cullen grumbled. "Eat them quickly before I change my fucking mind you grumpy fucker."

Jake laughed lightly and opened them. He put one in his mouth and hummed in pleasure. He offered the bag to Cullen who couldn't help but take two for himself.

"So, what else is up?" Cullen asked after a moment of Oreo centre appreciative silence.

Jake once again averted his eyes from Cullen who huffed down his nose and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Since when do we keep secrets, Jake?" he asked in a low tone.

"I don't have any secrets," Jake answered firmly with a shake of his head. "You know all there is to know."

"Oh, really?" Cullen countered in a way that told Jake he was close to flipping his shit. "So, if I know _everything_, when_ exactly_ were you going to tell me that you owe Aro even more now and that Paul is currently at the bastard's house with your shop takings, blow takings, receipts…"

"That's _not_ a secret, Cullen," Jake argued. "You knew all about that."

"Yeah, I did, but I _didn't_ know that the fucker now has you over an even bigger barrel than he had before I got put inside!"

Jake closed his mouth quickly before he said something stupid. He knew that Cullen was right. He should have told him about the change in amount but that would mean admitting that he wasn't that good a poker player.

"Fuck, man," Cullen sighed. "70%? How the fuck have you kept the shop afloat?"

Jake looked back at Cullen in shock. How the hell did he know so much? He blinked as realization hit him.

"Paul," he hissed. "I should put my foot in his mouth. That'll stop him from fucking talking."

"Don't blame Paul. He's worried about you," Cullen warned. "He only told me what I asked and what _you_ should have told me already. What the fuck possessed you to take Aro on in a goddamn poker match?"

"I was trying to win back some of the money to pay him," he answered with slight embarrassment. He sighed and looked up at Cullen. "It's all good, dude," he said with a half smile and a shrug that was supposed to look nonchalant. "It's under control. The shop is fine."

Cullen wasn't buying it. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. "Is this to do with Vanes-…?"

"Don't!" Jake shot back with fire in his eyes and clenched fists. He was on his feet quicker than Cullen could even blink.

Cullen immediately stood to his full height in preparation for anything that Jake could potentially give. They hadn't fought physically since they were kids but that didn't mean shit.

Jake took a deep breath and let it go gradually, taking in Cullen's defensive stance. He didn't want to fight his best friend but fuck, Cullen knew better than to talk about _her._

"Just…just don't, man, ok?" Jake breathed as he closed his eyes for a second to regain his composure.

Cullen nodded slowly. He knew that bringing her name up would cause a reaction but hell if he was shocked as shit to see it first hand. Paul had told Cullen that he had literally 'bumped' into Vanessa on his last visit to Aro's and that, when he had mentioned it to Jake, he had proceeded to go on a three day bender of drink, drugs and women.

As much as Jake gave off the impression that he was a tough motherfucker, Cullen knew that deep inside he was still hurting. Jake slid slowly back down the wall, landing with a loud thump. He cupped the sides of his temples in his palms.

"Look," Cullen murmured as he moved to sit on the floor at Jake's side. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause shit by talking about her. But you _need_ to be honest with me." He gave Jake a pointed look which Jake accepted with a slow nod.

Honesty had always been so important to the friendship that they had built over the years: Honesty and trust.

"You know that I can help you with the money side of…" He trailed off as he saw Jake shake his head.

"No, Cullen. I don't want your money."

"It's _not_ my money," Cullen bit back as he ran his hands through his hair, "Its Masen money."

Jake continued to shake his head. "Whatever, I'm not taking any more from you, man. You've already given too much. I already owe you for last time and then you doing the time that wasn't even…" He trailed off as the guilt teased his neck. "Jesus you're working _here_ for nothing."

"I don't need you to pay me," Cullen muttered. "I _have_ money and it keeps the parole fuckers happy thinking that I'm working for a living. Plus, I love it. I love working on these fuck hot automobiles."

He smiled as he slid his hand across the curve of the Mustang's fender.

"I know, but I still feel like a greedy ass motherfucker," Jake replied as he tilted his head back against the wall.

"If the shoe fits," Cullen deadpanned, earning a very hard elbow into his ribs. He laughed and rubbed his side.

"But seriously, Jake," he continued with no humor in his voice, "The offer's there, ok?"

Jake looked at Cullen and nodded. "Thanks, man."

They shook hands firmly before Cullen jumped up and leaned over to examine the engine of the Mustang.

"So, what's the problem with her?" he asked as he began tinkering with the head gasket before checking the spark plugs.

Jake stood and stretched. "She's idling really high. I've checked everything but…I don't know. Maybe I missed something?" He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, feeling the tension from lack of sleep.

"Did you check the idle air control?" Cullen asked without looking up, his hands disappearing into the depths of the car's engine.

Jake scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes. "Of course, _that_ was the first fucking thing I checked."

He watched Cullen work for no more than a minute, betting silently with himself that he wouldn't be able to fix the fucking thing.

"Start her up," Cullen said as he stood up straight.

Jake looked at him for a beat with a confused expression.

"Start her up," Cullen repeated with a wry smile.

Jake narrowed his eyes, grumbled under his breath and moved to turn the key in the ignition. Sure enough, the engine purred to life, the altimeter sitting at perfect RPMs.

Cullen slammed the hood down and wiped his finger prints off of the sexy metallic blue.

"How the fuck?" Jake muttered as he turned the car off.

Cullen laughed. "Idle air control. Easily missed."

"But I _checked_ the fucking air control!" Jake urged with open palms towards the car as though the inanimate object had planned his embarrassment all along.

Cullen clapped his hand onto Jake's shoulder.

"You're welcome," he said before heading towards the coffee maker at the back of the shop.

He laughed lightly as Jake continued to curse and explain to no-one in particular that he had in fact checked the idle air control and he would never have made such a rookie mistake.

He felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket as he picked up his cup of coffee and pulled it out of his pocket.

Peaches.

_Try not to be late again. _

Cullen looked at the clock on the wall to see that it was three fifteen. Less than one hour. He smiled and sipped his drink as he text her back.

**I wouldn't dare. **

And he was only half kidding. He had been more than a little fucking surprised at her reaction to his tardiness at their first session, two days previous. She had looked ready to rip his fucking head off and piss down his neck. He could kind of see where she was coming from but shit, she had a temper. Not that he was one to fucking talk.

The session – after the whole stern talking to, falling of ladder debacle – had gone pretty well.

They had discussed Donne in detail and not just _The Flea (_which Cullen was still ecstatic about her choosing. There was nothing better than seeing her cheeks tinge pink when he said words like 'fuck', 'sexual deviant' and 'bodily fluids.') They talked about his other works too, only noticing that they were the only two left in the library when the old battle axe, Mrs. Cope, came to tell them that security were locking up.

It was strange how time passed so quickly when he was with Peaches_._ It seemed so easy to be with her. He loved her sass and passion. It made him remember his own passion for the written word that he thought was long forgotten. He loved talking to her about the writer's word choices and the intricacies of it all.

In fact, he loved talking to her period. Talking to her and now…touching her. He couldn't help but think about how soft her hair was when he pushed it behind her ear or the silkiness of her skin at the back of her knee. Would her skin be that soft all over?

He cleared his throat and shook his head of the gratuitous image of her wrapped around him as he pounded her against the book shelves. _Sweet Jesus._

The point, he decided, was that he wanted more.

Sitting and discussing the poem with her was great. It was what they met for after all, but Cullen couldn't help but wonder what it would be like just to have an every day conversation with her. The day that she had spoken about her father and the book that he read to her was one of the best days that he had had while he was inside. He truly felt that he had gotten a glimpse of the Isabella Swan that existed outside of Arthur Kill and, now that he was outside too, he wanted very much to see more of her.

He wondered what her reaction would be if he asked her some more personal questions. Only questions about her likes and dislikes, not like her bra size or anything; although he had wondered about that shit too. They looked like they would fit in his hands quite nicely. He groaned under his breath as his cock twitched in agreement.

_Fucking woman._

His body still seemed to find it impossible to settle down when he was around her – hell, even when he wasn't around her and he thought about her, his body was _up and at 'em_, so to speak. He had known from the minute that he met her – before he even knew who she was - that he wanted her.

Of course, of that there was no doubt and as much as he would love to suggest that they just get fucking down to it, he knew that she wasn't that type of girl. At least he fucking hoped she wasn't. He was fairly certain that, should he hear of any man treating her that way, he would have no problem with fucking. Their. Shit. Up.

His possessiveness could be a problem. He snorted into his coffee cup. _Mine._

Besides, he continued to ponder; maybe she wouldn't even want him that way?

"Cullen?"

He came from his inner musings and turned to Seth who was motioning towards the entrance of the body shop.

"There's a guy here to see you, man."

"Who?" Cullen asked putting his coffee down and walking towards him. Seth shrugged.

"No clue. He just said he needed to talk to you urgently."

Cullen rolled his eyes. "Don't they all," he muttered.

He stopped mid-stride when he saw who it was that was waiting for him, shifting from foot to foot, in a suit that must have cost at least two thousand dollars.

Cullen cursed under his breath and rubbed his palm down his face in aggravation.

"Peter," he murmured as he walked towards him.

Peter nodded and took a deep breath. "Cullen."

There was a moment of silence as the two men observed one another. It had been a long time since they had talked, let alone been in the same place at the same time.

Impatient and as volatile as always; Cullen was the first to break.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked with incredulous eyes and an exasperated shake of his head.

"You've not been returning any of the calls that either Jasper or myself have made to you," Peter answered matter-of-factly.

His calm tone and arrogant gait annoyed the shit out of Cullen.

"So what," he retorted. "You fucks can't bully me on the phone so you decide to come down and do it in person?"

Peter sighed and dropped his shoulders slightly. "We're not bullying you, Cullen. These papers need signing."

Cullen pulled out his smokes from his back pocket and lit one, taking a huge drag that he breathed down his nose. He pointed at Peter with the cigarette still between his fingers.

"Those _papers_ were drawn up, without my consent, as a way of shifting me out of the picture. That, my friend, is fucking bullying: Underhand, arrogant, fucking bullying, but bullying nonetheless."

"Cullen," Peter groaned in annoyance as he rubbed the bridge of his own nose. "You don't want anything to do with the company. You've said that time and time again and yet when we offer you a way out you dig your fucking heels in and say no."

Peter, for one, was sick of the to-ing and fucking fro-ing.

Cullen immediately saw through his bullshit.

"No. You're offering me a way out because the Whitlock's are scared fucking shitless that WCS share holders will find out that your company owner is a fucking criminal."

Cullen pulled on the cigarette, eying the man before him, knowing from the expression on his face that he was right.

Peter ran his hand through his hair and took a breath. "Cullen," he said quietly taking a step towards him. "We're family…" 

_Say what now?_

Cullen's eyes blazed.

"Don't play the fucking family card with me, Peter!" he snarled as he flicked his smoke, just missing the side of Peter's left arm. "You weren't my fucking family when I was doing my times in prison so don't pretend that you give a shit now that I'm out!"

Peter held his hands up in submission. "Ok, ok. I get it," he cried over Cullen's ranting.

"No," Cullen continued while taking a step towards him, clearing the space left between them. "You _don't_ get it. We may be related but that does not mean that I would not think twice about laying your ass the fuck out, right here and now, just on general goddamn principle."

Peter refused to back down, even when Cullen was almost nose to nose with him. He was an intimidating fucker but he could be too.

"That wouldn't be too good for your parole now would it?" he asked, keeping his voice as even as he could. It was a low blow, he knew, but he wasn't scared of Edward Cullen.

"_Fuck_ you," Cullen hissed.

The two men stared at each other, neither one blinking or stepping back. Should a passer by have seen them they would have thought nothing of maybe walking around them in a circle with a board that read '**Round 1.**'

"We ok here?"

Peter's eyes flickered over Cullen's shoulder towards Jake who was standing, leaning against the wall of the building with his arms crossed over his chest like some fucking parolee body guard. Peter held his eye roll.

"Yeah," Cullen answered, still never taking his eyes from Peter's face. "We're great. Peter was just leaving."

Peter smirked slightly at the warning in Cullen's tone. _So predictable._ Cullen was always thinking with his fists instead of his brain, even when they were kids he was the same way. He exhaled in resignation.

"Think about what I said, Cullen," he said softly. "We'll be in touch."

"Can't wait," Cullen retorted quickly.

"Jake," Peter offered with a nod towards the wannabe body guard.

Jake winked and grinned in response. Peter smiled at his cockiness and shook his head as he jogged back across the street to get into his car. Cullen watched the car pull away and turned towards Jake with a face like thunder.

"What the fuck was _he_ doing here?" Jake asked with raised eyebrows. "They still trying to buy you out?"

Cullen nodded and slumped against the wall next to him, groaning as he did.

"What did you say?"

"I told him to go fuck himself," Cullen replied with a shrug.

Jake bumped his shoulder and smiled. "That's my boy."

Cullen cracked a small smile. He stood for a couple of minutes, allowing his body to calm down and his adrenaline levels to drop.

_Fucking family._

What the hell did _Peter Whitlock_ know about being family?

They were all the same the Whitlock's: money and power driven. All they cared about was getting their hands on his money and having more power and, as much as Cullen despised every cent that entered his Swiss bank account every month, he wasn't about to just slink off like some badly behaved black sheep, just because the Whitlock's wanted him too.

_Fuck that._

He was just about to close his eyes, with his head lolling back against the wall, as his breathing leveled out, when he was suddenly upright, wide eyed and frantic and scaring Jake Black to death.

"Shit!" Cullen exclaimed as looked around him self as though he was looking for something. "What time is it?"

Jake took a moment to realize he had been asked a question before looking at his watch in panic.

"Its 3:45, man, why? Where's the fucking fire?"

"Fuck!" Cullen cried, running full speed back into the shop and grabbing his bag and keys. "I'm fucking late! _Fuck!_ I'm motherfucking late!"

He pulled on his leather jacket, shades and his black beanie hat, dodging Seth as he did and ran back out of the shop, past Jake and towards_ Kala._

Jake was still looking utterly perplexed.

"My session," Cullen called, noticing the vacant look on his friend's face, as he pulled on his helmet and threw his leg over the bike. "I'm fucking late and I said I wouldn't be! I _told_ her I wouldn't be!"

"Oh," Jake replied in understanding as he watched Cullen reverse the rumbling bike onto the road with his feet, "The sexy tutor?"

He laughed as Cullen flicked him the finger before revving the Harley and speeding off down the street like a bat out of hell.

=PoF=

Isabella was drumming her nails on the library table in annoyance while wondering why the fuck she thought that Cullen meant it when he said that he would be on time.

Oh yes, she realized, because she was fucking stupid. _That _was why.

She was stupid for thinking he would be on time. She was stupid for looking forward to their time together and resenting him for cutting it short. She was stupid for taking time to reapply a little lip glass and mascara before she reached the library and she was fucking stupid for hoping that he was covered in oil again.

"So _fucking_ stupid," she mumbled to herself as she reached into her bag and pulled out the copy of _'Walter the Lazy Mouse'_ that he had bought her for her birthday.

She re-read the note that he had written and sighed. _'No matter what the obstacles…'_

Well, she thought dryly, the biggest fucking obstacle right now was the fact that the guy would be late to his own fucking funeral.

She closed the book and glanced at the clock once again. _Four-ten. _She sighed and shook her head. She waited thirty minutes last session. She would wait twenty this time.

She picked up her phone checking for any messages or missed calls. She smiled sardonically at her reflection as it looked back at her from the blank screen. Of course there were no messages.

"Fucking stupid," she mumbled again.

She ran her hands through her hair and heaved a sigh. Slumping down into her seat she allowed her mind to wander back to their first session. After his ass had eventually turned up, they _had_ managed to get quite a lot of work done; even if she had regretted choosing the poem she had.

She had filled out her form for Charlotte to forward onto the parole board, detailing what they had covered.

Of course she had left out the fact that he had pushed her hair back and touched her chin, as well as grabbing her after she fell off the ladder, grazing her boobs in the process and holding her against his strong, muscular chest…

"Dammit, Isabella," she cursed her self as she felt her cheeks burn at the memory.

She dropped her forehead to her forearms on the table top and began muttering to herself.

"It's a stupid crush. Get your head out of your ass. He's _just_ a guy. He's a guy who is a criminal, who has done countless bad things and countless women along the way. Get. A. Fucking. Grip. Just because he is pretty does not mean that you-…"

"Who's pretty?"

_Oh. Holy. Fuck._

Cullen's soft dulcet tones echoed around the room, freezing Isabella for a moment, before she grabbed the composure that was slinking down her chair and out of the door and sat up very, very slowly, terrified to turn around and see his face.

"My…my shoes," she answered quickly as she pushed her foot out from under the table and twisted it around so that Cullen could see the gun metal grey Gucci pump that adorned it. "Aren't they pretty?" she asked as she felt her heart race.

She continued to keep her eyes off of him as she tried to calm herself. How much had he heard? _Fuckfuckfuck…_

Cullen cocked an eyebrow but still allowed his eyes to rake over the foot, ankle and leg that she was showing him. Because hell, to ignore it after the pretty lady had asked would be just bad fucking manners.

_Lickable, suckable, around my waistable…_

"Um…they're not really my style but yeah…great," he replied in a puzzled tone while eying her warily.

He placed his bike helmet onto the table. What the hell had she been mumbling about?

Isabella closed her eyes in utter mortification as he walked around her to his seat, gathering her wits from around her ankles and clearing her throat of the cry of embarrassment that was blocking it.

"So," he said as he pulled off his jacket and placed it on the back of his seat. He grimaced slightly. "I know I'm late. And I know I said I wouldn't be. So…shit, sorry."

"Yes," she answered sharply. "You are late. Again."

He tried to smile to soften her a little but she looked away before it had time to take effect. She knew his game. _Fuck it._

"I know you have stuff that you need to do, Cullen," Isabella continued in a more serious tone as she reached into her bag for a pen. "But so do I and you being late constantly is just not going to work. We've lost fifteen minutes already."

He scoffed slightly but stopped it when she threw him a look that would have rendered him dead on the spot had she so wished it.

He gulped and pushed down the aggravation her tone had caused that was rising slowly in his chest.

"Look, I apologized ok," he said pointedly with his hands palm up on the table between them. "But give me a fucking break here, Peaches. It's only our second session. I'm still trying to find my groove and shit with everything. It won't be like this forever just…I'm trying, ok? Lay off a motherfucker."

Isabella looked at him. His face was softer, more vulnerable maybe. Maybe it was the beanie, which admittedly looked fairly spectacular sitting on his head. She frowned gently at him.

"What happened?" she asked suddenly.

Cullen sat back slightly in surprise at her question. "What?"

"Well, why were you late? You look…different. What happened?"

He inhaled through his nose and smiled at her. He shook his head and shrugged before rubbing his neck.

"There was a…family issue I had to deal with and I lost track of time. Simple as."

Isabella nodded. "A family issue? Is everything ok?"

The concern in her voice made his stomach tighten like he'd done a number of crunches. It was strange and came from nowhere. He suddenly felt a little off balance.

"Um…yeah, everything's fine," he replied uncomfortably, as his eyes darted around the table and away from Peaches' gaze. "Can we get on now?"

Isabella noticed the tension start to creep back into his jaw and silently cursed herself.

Why did she have to ask? She knew why she had. Who the fuck was she kidding?

The truth was, she barely knew the man sitting before her and honestly it had started to concern her. She was lusting after him, having impure thoughts and dreams about him, yet all she knew about him was that he had done time – for what she had no clue - he had a good education and he worked in a body shop.

The fact that he smoked and looked fucking amazing in jeans and Ray Bans was inconsequential knowledge at this point.

Although…_damn._

"I see you came straight from work again," she noted with a tip of her head towards his red _White_ _Stripes_ t-shirt that was covered in oil.

Cullen looked down at himself and laughed, "Um…yeah. I get covered in the fucking stuff." He wiped half heartedly at the stains making Isabella smile.

"We can't all look like you, you know," he muttered as he glanced at her from under his lashes.

Isabella paused for a second as she pushed his work towards him.

"Look like me?" she asked as she looked down quickly at her green v-neck button down sweater and grey skirt. "What do you mean?" She was suddenly very self conscious.

Cullen smirked as he pulled the papers towards himself. He had noticed that she had a little more shine to her lips but didn't allow himself to look at them for long. Sitting with a hard-on for long periods of time was not good. That shit was just fucking uncomfortable.

"I don't mean anything, Peaches," he replied nonchalantly. "So, what's on the agenda for today, more sexual deviancy?"

Isabella took a deep breath and felt her chest constrict in annoyance at his cockiness. She should have been used to his shit by now but he was playing with her and not in a good way.

"We're staying with Donne," she huffed as she slammed her notes down, making Cullen sit up a little straighter.

"Tell me what you know about this poem?"

She dug around in her bag after asking her question about '_To His Mistress Going To Bed'_, wishing like hell that there was a bat in it which she could use to smack Cullen around the head with.

When Cullen hadn't replied for a few moments she looked up at him from the notes in front of her. What she saw surprised her. He was looking at his own copy with a confused look on his face, scratching his head so that his beanie moved from side to side.

"Cullen?"

He lifted his head and then shook it slowly. His expression seemed…ashamed?

He cleared his throat. "I, um…I don't…I don't know this one."

Isabella blinked three times in rapid succession. Cullen sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over himself. A frown appeared over his eyes and his jaw moved as he clenched his teeth.

"Oh," she replied like a fucking idiot. "Well…Cullen, that's ok."

He rolled his eyes and smacked his jean pockets for a smoke before he remembered where he was and that lighting a cigarette may not be the best fucking idea.

"What's wrong?" Isabella asked, leaning forward so that her arm was reaching over to him.

"I need a fucking cigarette," he groaned as he rubbed his face.

He stopped trying to pull the skin from his bones when he heard a chair scrape across the wooden floor. He looked to see Peaches standing with an expectant look on her face.

"What?" he snapped even though he didn't mean to.

Isabella ignored it however and tapped her hand against the back of her chair. "If you need a smoke let's go outside and have a smoke."

Cullen narrowed his eyes. "But you _don't_ smoke."

Isabella put her hands on her hips in irritation and took two steps towards the door. "I like to watch," she replied sardonically. "Come on."

Cullen observed her for a moment, wondering if she was playing with him, before he got up and followed her with heavy feet.

Outside of the library, in the warm sunshine, he found Peaches standing by the 'smoking point' alongside other social lepers of the smoking persuasion.

He stared at her, waiting for her to say something smart, but instead she simply gestured with her hand for him to spark up. He smiled wryly and did as she asked, pulling on the thing for all it was worth. He slumped against the wall and watched as Peaches mirrored the action at the side of him. He caught a waft of her perfume as she did and closed his eyes briefly at the sweetness of it.

"It's ok, you know," she said softly, keeping her eyes on her feet.

"What is?" he asked as he flicked the ash onto the floor.

"The fact that you don't know the poem," Isabella answered. "It's a good thing actually."

Cullen exhaled a long plume of smoke followed by four rings. "And how do you figure that?"

Isabella laughed gently and looked up at him. She was small, he thought. The top of her head only came to the tip of his shoulder. How had he not noticed that before?

"Cullen, _every_ poem or piece of work that we have looked at since we started doing these sessions over two months ago, you have known inside and out. You make me feel a little inadequate sometimes."

She said it with a smile even though it was the truth. She couldn't be mad though. Cullen's intelligence and insight was what made her job worthwhile.

He snorted a little and shook his head at her statement. "You, Miss Swan, are anything but inadequate."

Isabella felt her cheeks warm at his words and the way in which he said them. There was sincerity behind them and it made her feel _strange_.

How could he be such a fucking ass one minute and charming as hell the next? This guy could give a girl serious fucking whiplash.

"Regardless," she muttered with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We can work through this one together. Sure, it'll be different but different isn't always bad."

Cullen looked down at her to see her gazing out at the passing people and traffic. Her hair once again caught the light and the reds and gold shone within it. This, he decided, was the Isabella Swan he wanted to know more about.

"What made you want to become a teacher?" he asked quickly, unable to stop the words as they passed his tongue.

Her head snapped towards him, her big brown eyes seemingly shocked as hell and wary. Shit, had he asked the wrong thing?

"Sorry," he mumbled around his cigarette. "I didn't mean to pry. It's none of my fucking business."

"No," Isabella croaked with a hand through her hair. "No, it's fine. You just surprised me, is all."

Cullen looked down at his own feet, waiting patiently for her to answer.

"My dad," she said finally.

_Ah, hence the look of surprise…_

Cullen continued to wait.

"He um, well, before he died, I um, made a promise to him."

He looked at her from the corner of his eye to see her biting her lip and looking up at the sky. She looked beautiful.

Isabella took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts and memories of the night she had promised her Daddy that she would make him proud and give something back.

"He always taught me that it was important to give back, to not take anything for granted. I loved reading. I loved writing and becoming a teacher just seemed to…ignite something in me."

She glanced at him sheepishly. "Sounds corny as shit, right?"

He smiled but shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with passion, Peaches." He was surprised at the huskiness of his own voice as he spoke.

She smiled in return before looking back out across the city.

"Did you…I mean, before prison…did you want to…_be_ anything?"

Cullen chuckled at her cautious wording and crossed his legs at the ankles as he put out his smoke and flicked it to the side.

"There was a time when I wanted to be a doctor," he answered slowly. He'd never told anyone that.

Isabella looked at him in utter astonishment, "A doctor?"

Cullen smirked at her expression and nodded, "Yeah, a surgeon actually."

He held out his hands in front of himself. "I'm good with my hands."

He wiggled his fingers while Isabella ignored the fluttering deep inside her stomach.

"Is that why you work in the body shop because you like working with your hands?" she asked curiously.

"Nah," he replied with a crinkle of his nose as he put his hands back into his pockets. "Apart from doing it to help a friend out, I do that because I fucking love engines. I love the power and the way they operate. Taking it all apart, seeing how it works and then putting it all back together; that's what I love about it, Peaches."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "The sound they make can be pretty awesome too."

He smiled to himself as he remembered the first time he heard _Kala_ as he blasted her to New Jersey one hot summer afternoon. Her engine had been so loud he had been able to feel it in his bones.

"You're right," Isabella whispered as she watched his face relax and settle into the beautiful image she had begun to know so well.

"I usually am," Cullen answered with a wiggle of his eyebrows as he opened his eyes and looked back at her, "But about what in particular?"

She smiled. "There is _nothing_ wrong with passion."

Cullen smirked and looked back at her, seemingly unable to say anything that wouldn't sound fucking stupid or trite. He liked hearing her use his words. It erased the feeling of inadequacy that had crept up his back when he realized he didn't know the poem that they were going to study. Peaches had calmed him; reassured him and given him what he needed. It was like she _cared_ about his feelings.

A strange feeling suddenly bubbled in his stomach as he continued to take in the contours of Peaches' face. It felt like it did when he was hungry, a grumble, slightly uncomfortable but easily dealt with. This, he started to understand however didn't appear to be something he could deal with easily.

He _was_ hungry but not in the normal – give me a bag of Oreos and I'm good to go - sense.

He was hungry for the woman standing at his side.

He sucked in a breath when he was unexpectedly struck with the overwhelming urge to kiss her.

_Fuck._

"What?" Peaches asked as she saw the color start to drain from Cullen's face and his eyes darken. "Are you ok?"

He cleared his throat and looked away from her quickly, gripping the bridge of his nose. _Fucking shit._

"Do you want another smoke?" she asked moving closer to him as he bent his knees slightly. He looked a little ill.

"Yeah," he replied shakily, once again pulling out his pack of Marlboro. He kept his eyes from Peaches, feeling the urge rise through his body.

This is _not_ good.

Cullen didn't just _kiss_ women. He did that shit when he had to but women usually kissed _him_. Usually, they begged.

What. The. Hell?

He had wanted to fuck Peaches since he had first seen her; but kiss her? That had never even crossed his mind.

Until now. _Fucking, fucking shit._

Isabella, utterly perplexed, leaned back against the wall, watching Cullen surreptitiously from the corner of her eye as he sucked on his cigarette as though his life depended on it. He appeared so shaken, nervous even. He looked like she'd never seen him.

"So, um…" she shrugged to herself as she tried to find the right words to change the atmosphere that had settled around them on the steps of the library. "What…um, do you like to do when you're not…you know…getting covered in oil?"

She laughed a little and then felt her face warm up at the fucking absurdity of her question. What the fuck was she asking him that for? She palmed her face and mumbled an expletive to herself, feeling Cullen shift at her side. Why couldn't it be easy and natural?

Cullen stared at her as she rubbed her forehead, unable to hold his smile back. He felt his body calm. Her obvious discomfort seemed to ease his considerably. Not in a sadistic way, but simply because he understood what she was feeling. Something was going on between them and he didn't have a fucking clue what it was. He didn't even know if he liked it all that much.

"I like to play guitar," he answered eventually, his voice back to its even confidence.

Isabella lifted her head at his words but remained quiet.

"I like to ride my bike. Watch TV. Drink," he smiled at her and tilted his head modestly. "Nothing exciting."

"You have a bike?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow which he mimicked, making her smile. Of course, she suddenly remembered, he had a helmet with him today.

"Yes," he replied in a soft voice that sounded like a caress, "My baby." 

Isabella laughed and shook her. _Boys and their toys_, "Favorite TV program?"

"CSI. The New York version," he deadpanned and then broke into ironic laughter which Isabella joined.

"Not Prison Break?" Isabella thought, instantly slapping her hand hard to her mouth when she realized she had actually said it out loud.

_Shit!_

Cullen widened his eyes and snorted. "Holy fuck, Peaches, did you just make a joke about my incarceration?"

She swallowed and fisted her hands together in absolute panic.

"I am so fucking sorry, Cullen," she apologized wholeheartedly. She put a hand on her heart. "I would never, and I do mean never, _ever_ make a joke that would…I mean, I didn't think before I opened my mouth and….It was utterly inappropriate…fuck, I am so sor-…"

She stopped her rant when she noticed Cullen's shoulders were shaking and his face was almost red with the effort it took not to laugh in her face.

"You fucking bastard," she said as she shoved his chest hard.

Cullen immediately exploded with laughter, buckling in the middle as she continued to chastise him.

"That wasn't funny!" She yelled as the other smokers looked at the pair of them in complete shock and confusion. "I thought you were _really_ pissed!" Isabella continued, ignoring the murmurs and whispers at her side.

Cullen took a breath in between his chuckles and wiped at the laughter tears at the corners of his eyes for dramatic effect.

"Oh Peaches," he breathed with a shake of his head as he continued to shake with amusement. "That was the funniest fucking thing I've seen in a long time."

"Well, I'm glad I amuse you," Isabella huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Cullen didn't take her sulk seriously when he saw the corner of her mouth twitch when he nudged her shoulder playfully with his own.

Isabella couldn't help it. The sound of Cullen's laughter seemed to dissolve her from the inside out. _A crush…_

"We should go back in," she said quietly, not really wanting to. Cullen nodded, feeling the exact same way.

Isabella pushed from the wall and started for the library doors. Cullen followed behind to see a large guy with an even larger bag, smack hard into Isabella, sending her small body flying. Cullen quickly grabbed her waist and pulled her upright against him before she tumbled completely.

"Jesus," she muttered in anger at the man as her hand found Cullen's forearm around her.

"Fucking watch it," the asshole sneered as he continued without a second glance muttering under his breath, "Blind bitch."

Cullen saw red. _Oh hell no motherfucker. _

Before Isabella could stop him, Cullen had taken three huge strides and had grabbed the asshole's wrist in such a way that the asshole spun around, wincing at the horrific pain that shot up his large arm.

"What the fuck, man?" he exclaimed as he tried to pull from Cullen's grasp.

"Cullen," Isabella called as she approached his side.

Cullen ignored her and simply twisted the asshole's arm further.

"You're gonna break my fucking wrist!"

"And I will," Cullen growled, "if your fat fucking ass doesn't apologize to this lady." The low, even timbre of Cullen's voice screamed danger and sent chills up the asshole's back.

"Cullen, I'm fine. It was an accident," Isabella continued nervously. She looked down at the wrist in his hand, knowing that it wouldn't be long before the inevitable snap rang around them.

She couldn't believe how fucking scary Cullen looked. His back was poker straight and his stare was so intense she was surprised that he hadn't burnt holes into the guy's face. This was the Cullen she had first met: alpha, strong and lethal. He was terrifyingly magnificent.

The asshole opened his mouth but no sound emerged.

"Apologize," Cullen ordered through lips that barely moved.

"I'm sorry," Asshole gasped but Cullen kept his grip.

Isabella's eyes widened. "Cullen he apologized. Let him go."

Cullen smirked at the fear in the asshole's eyes before - squeezing once more for good measure - he released him. The asshole stumbled back, clutching his wrist to his chest. Isabella saw the redness of his skin immediately.

"I'm sorry," she muttered to the man as he grappled for his bag that he had dropped on the floor. He picked it up and moved quickly away from her and the fucking psycho at her side.

Isabella spun around, glaring at Cullen whose eyes still hadn't moved from the fat bastard who had pushed his Peaches.

"What the fuck was that?" she hissed, poking him in the chest; surprising him with the force of it.

Before he could answer she had stormed off back towards the reading room. By the time he had reached her she was throwing her belongings around the table, a look of fury on her face.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice still low, as he scratched his forearm.

She couldn't be mad at him for defending her! Could she?

She didn't answer him as she threw herself down onto her chair.

"Are you mad?" he asked incredulously with his palms open at his sides.

"We have work to do," she snapped as she slammed a hand down onto his copy of the poem. Cullen felt his annoyance rear up and crossed his arms over himself.

"I asked you a question," he spat.

"Yes, I'm fucking mad," she shot back in a low hiss that, despite her best efforts, echoed around them.

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes. Why are you mad?" Cullen repeated slowly as though she was stupid. Her ingratitude made his skin crawl while her temper made his dick harder than titanium.

Isabella clenched her fists and spoke through gritted teeth. "I'm mad because you just nearly broke a man's wrist in the middle of the fucking library because you're an idiot who seems to have forgotten his dumb fucking ass is on parole and can't keep his fucking temper."

She watched as the fire behind Cullen's pupils erupted once again into an all out inferno and, before she could take another breath or realize that he was furious, he was leaning over her, his hands gripping the rests of the seat she was sitting in, trapping her against the leather at her back.

She leaned away from him but he simply moved closer. His breath was heavy and hot across her neck. She felt her eyes roll slightly as the smell of nicotine and something that was inherently and undeniably Cullen, wafted over her.

"Have you quite finished?" he seethed, his eyes boring into hers. Beautiful, brown and wide, she never blinked.

"Yes," she retorted with a slight sassy dip of her head.

"Well then, let me tell you something about my dumb ass. I don't like fat fucks like that touching things that don't fucking belong to them."

_Belong?_ Isabella opened her mouth but Cullen stopped her by continuing.

"You're ungrateful ass would have been smeared across the library floor had I not caught you, and that cunt back there will now think twice about treating any woman that way again, so don't fucking bitch to me about shit that I should and shouldn't do. You're my tutor not my fucking keeper. Get that shit right, right now."

His body heaved with the breathes he was taking and the rage that was still flying through his veins. Isabella watched as his nostrils flared and his tongue wet his bottom lip. She wanted to suck on it. Cullen saw the flash in her eyes and felt his heart kick up a gear.

He looked at her mouth, lingering on the pucker in the middle of it. He wondered what it would taste like.

"Are you afraid?" he asked quietly; dangerously.

Isabella swallowed. Was she afraid of him? Maybe. Did she think that he would hurt her? No.

She shook her head and Cullen smirked. A light feeling that felt suspiciously like relief slipped down his back

"You should be," he said as he looked down again at her mouth unknowingly making her pussy weep. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

His dick twitched at the thought of what he could do to her. His gaze almost shifted to the table at their side but, he thought wryly, _that_ would be pushing it.

Isabella gasped softly at the double meaning behind his words but managed to keep control. She couldn't allow herself to fawn and behave like a harlot around him. She knew better.

"When you're done with your…threats," she mumbled through an almost blocked throat, "We have work to do."

Cullen's smirk remained as he gradually released the chair and stood up straight. He glanced at the flush on Peaches' chest and immediately worried that he had frightened her. He didn't let himself worry about it for long however. Hell, maybe it was a good thing that he did? He couldn't let her forget that he was a bad man even if he wished - for her sake - that he wasn't.

He took his seat, took a breath and reached for the poem while Isabella adjusted her top and ran a hand through her hair. Her heart was pounding.

"Read through it," she said with authority clear in her voice.

All playfulness had gone and Cullen couldn't help but feel annoyed at him self for being the cause of it.

"Highlight the lines, phrases, words that you like and we'll discuss it once you're done."

He didn't acknowledge that he had heard her but began doing what she had asked.

Isabella let her gaze wander over him once more. He _was_ beautiful but under that was something dark and dangerous and she had to keep remembering that. She was utterly thrown by the man before her. How could he go from being so charming, so funny, to almost breaking a man and behaving like an animal?

She was so fucking confused and disappointed in the feelings that were ransacking her body as she watched him. She had never felt desire like it. It was hot, fiery lust that seemed to rush through her veins like lava and as much as she tried to extinguish it, the hotter it burned.

She looked at his mouth. For one split second she truly thought that he was going to kiss her and by Christ she would have let him do it.

And more.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself again.

After fifteen minutes of tense silence that was only broken by the sound of Cullen's pen sliding across the paper, he sat up and looked at Peaches.

"Finished?" she asked to which he nodded. "So, what are your thoughts?"

Cullen exhaled and cracked the middle finger of his left hand with his thumb.

"It's about lust," he answered, keeping his eyes on the page. _Trust her to choose this shit…_

"Ok," Isabella answered, shifting her chair closer to his. "What about lust?"

"Lust for his mistress," he explained. "He uses metaphors and likens his mistresses body to discovering new land," he indicated his view by half heartedly pointing at the poem with his finger.

"He uses…um, hyperbole…religious imagery by comparing sex to 'angels' and 'heaven'." Cullen rolled his eyes slightly.

When the fuck was sex _ever_ that way?

"He wants to conquer her virgin body like the men who conquer virgin lands." He looked up at Peaches and blinked leisurely. "He wants to discover her."

Isabella, through a haze of her own lust, smiled at his intellect and the fact that he knew so much so quickly. This was the Cullen she wanted more of. This was the Cullen that she dreamed about and liked.

Her soft expression caught Cullen off guard. He blinked again before he exhaled down his nose. The light feeling in his body returned and he smiled back at her.

"Look," he said gently as he sat forward in his seat. "Can we start over? Just forget that that shit happened and just…you know, be us?"

The way that he said 'us' made Isabella's body smolder. She nodded slowly. "Sure," she replied in a whisper.

"Ok," he muttered.

He allowed himself a split second to revel in the fact that the tension between them had once again changed. The heaviness of the fiery anger between them was almost oppressive. Fighting with her, as sexy and hot as it was, was also exhausting. He was convinced she would be the death of him.

He slumped back into his chair as the air cleared and they began to discuss the poem in detail. As much as the content of the poem was relevant to the way Isabella felt about Cullen – and vice versa – the two of them managed to analyze the poem without any embarrassing pauses or silences. They even laughed together when Cullen declared that Donne was nothing but 'a horny motherfucker who needed to get his ass laid.'

Isabella listened to his ideas, losing herself in his voice as he read sections of it. She was fairly sure that he could read her the Chinese take out menu in her kitchen and she would be just as enraptured. She knew she was entering very dangerous territory but at that moment, she couldn't have cared less.

An hour later and they were, somewhat begrudgingly, readying themselves to leave. Isabella was packing her bag and Cullen was watching her while pretending to play with his cell phone. The fucking thing rang in his hands, scaring the shit out of him. He coughed a laugh at his own stupidity and answered it.

"What's up, G?" he asked with a small grin. Isabella looked over to him to see his eyes rolling good naturedly.

"Yeah, I'm with _Miss Swan _now…" He smiled at her. "Yeah, she's, I mean it's good…"

Isabella continued to put her things away, skimming over the notes that Cullen had made on the poem. Even his handwriting was beautiful. It was clear and flowed from one swirl to the next. She shook her head and placed it inside his work folder.

"Yeah, I'll call you," Cullen was saying as her mind drifted back into the room, "Later." He clicked his phone off and pushed it into the pocket of his jeans.

"Miss Swan, huh?" she asked with a knowing smirk.

He shrugged. "Peaches is my name for you. No-one else's."

"So, I gather," she replied, ignoring the possessive tone of his voice even though it sent warm flutters across her chest.

Cullen watched her closely. "You never asked why I call you that," he muttered towards his feet. Maybe it was time to come clean?

Isabella looked up at him, waiting for his eyes to meet hers. "Do you want me to?" she asked, once they did.

Cullen paused for a moment, debating her question and the ramifications of the answer. He shook his head. "No."

"Then I wont ask," she replied simply. As much as she wanted to know why, she was, at that moment, happy to just allow him to do it. She liked it. She liked that it belonged to just the two of them.

"So, um…our session Friday," Cullen said with a grimace as he pulled his beanie further down over his ears. "I'm not going to be able to make it."

Isabella looked up at him, at once feeling disappointed while simultaneously hating her self for allowing that very emotion.

"I have my first parole officers meeting and Garrett is coming," he explained in a monotonous tone. He was pissed as hell that it was encroaching on his time with Peaches but he could hardly say no. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Isabella said with a half smile. "It just means we have to book those two hours elsewhere."

She retrieved her planner from her bag and flipped the pages to the date. Cullen picked up his bike helmet and walked to her side.

Isabella groaned in frustration. "I can't make tomorrow. I have a work meeting and the library shuts at six and I haven't requested a stay open…" She trailed off feeling absurdly deflated.

Cullen clicked his tongue in annoyance. "It's not a problem," he murmured nonchalantly.

"Actually it is," she countered. "We have to have six hours a week by parole orders."

Cullen rested his weight onto his left foot and pondered the problem as he looked at the floor. His gaze flickered up to Peaches who was obviously doing the same but was biting her lip in the process. _Fuck's sake_. He moved closer to her as an idea struck him.

"Well, um…what are you doing Saturday?" he asked.

His voice irritated the fuck out of him He sounded like a fucking fourteen-year old asking a girl out on a date. Which he definitely _was not_ doing! He didn't _do_ dates.

Isabella looked at him in surprise. "Saturday?" she repeated cautiously.

Cullen nodded and shifted on his feet again. "Ye-…well, yeah." He clothes suddenly felt like they were choking him.

"I haven't booked the room for Saturday," Isabella continued. Cullen huffed at her apparent obliviousness.

"Are you being obtuse of fucking purpose?" he snapped as he slapped a hand to his thigh.

"What?" Isabella retorted loudly with wide eyes.

Cullen pulled his lips together into a tight line and counted to ten. "We could meet on Saturday…if you have nothing planned. Go to the park or something and study there. I don't know."

The park hadn't been his first thought but now that he had said it, he kinda liked the idea.

"The park?" Isabella repeated again, feeling as dumb as she surely sounded.

"Holy shit, woman," Cullen groaned in exasperation. "I give up!"

Isabella couldn't help but smile which Cullen noticed instantly.

"Are you playing with me, Peaches?" he asked in a low grumble that she considered to be sexy as hell.

As much as she wanted to say yes to see what he would do, she answered with a shake of her head.

"I'm sorry," she said behind a small giggle. "I'm just surprised you suggested it that's all. I thought the last thing you'd want to do would be to study on a Saturday."

Cullen held his tongue that was itching to say, _"But I get to spend time with you…" _Bizarrely, he really wanted to. As crazy as she made him, he didn't mind spending two hours alone with her in the park on a Saturday afternoon.

Instead he shrugged. "I'm just a good fucking student, what can I say?"

Isabella snorted and dropped her head to hide the blush that followed it.

"So," Cullen pushed. "Are you busy Saturday?"

What if she had a date? He scoffed inwardly. _He'd cut a fucker and she'd have to come._

Isabella looked at him with slight trepidation. His face seemed eager, anxious and very young. She didn't need to check her diary. She knew she was free. The question was should she tell Cullen that?

"No, I'm not busy," she answered, wondering fleetingly if she would go on to regret the words that slipped so easily from her mouth.

The resulting smile on Cullen's face was almost beaming. He didn't even try to hide that shit.

"Well…good," he managed through his grin. _Fucking fourteen-year old_. "Saturday it is. What time?"

"One?"

"One is great. 5th Avenue entrance?"

Isabella nodded, "Perfect."

"Well, alright." Cullen tucked his helmet under his arm and gestured for Peaches to lead the way.

The pair wandered through the nearly deserted library and out into the still warm New York City evening. Isabella took a deep breath as they walked down the front steps towards the sidewalk.

"I love the smell of the city at twilight," she muttered quietly when they got there.

Cullen breathed in himself, curious as to what she was talking about. It was warm, smoggy but somehow comforting. It was home.

"Is this your bike?" Peaches interrupted his thoughts as she walked towards _Kala_.

He smiled and nodded. "This is the most important woman in my life," he said fervently, _"Kala_."

"Kala?" Isabella asked utterly intrigued.

Cullen nodded. "It means fire. It means art too but it was the fire part I liked."

Isabella smiled. "She's beautiful," she muttered.

"Thank you."

"I always liked the 2005 Sportster," she continued. "It was so much sleeker than the 2004 model. Faster engine too, right?" 

The sound of Cullen's jaw popping the fuck open and his cock straining against his fly could have been heard as far away as Philadelphia.

_Holy. Mother. Of. Fuck._

He watched as her small hand skimmed across the leather of _Kala_'s seat, knowing that it was the sexiest fucking thing he had ever seen and he had never been as turned on in his fucking life as he was at that moment.

_Peaches spread naked on Kala. Peaches riding with me on Kala. Peaches is fucking _touching _Kala._

He moaned softly, deep in his throat.

Usually, if a woman touched his bike Cullen would go ape shit but somehow, seeing Peaches do it, made him dry at the mouth and twitching at the crotch.

He cleared his throat but his voice still came out as a slight squeak. "You um, you know bikes?"

"Not really," she replied with a shrug as she touched the handlebars. Cullen licked his lips. _Sweet Jesus_.

"My dad liked them when he was younger," she continued. "I would ride with him sometimes when we went to the beach on holiday twice a year. It kind of stayed with me, you know?"

Cullen nodded: entirely mute and almost panting like a fucking dog.

"Well…if you ever…you know…" He pointed to the bike praying for his tongue to start doing its fucking job properly. "We could…the beach isn't that far away?"

He shrugged as though that would explain what the hell he was trying to say so inarticulately. He was _never_ tongue tied.

Isabella smiled at him, loving the feel of the bike under her palms. "Maybe one day," she muttered, only half to herself.

"I'll hold you to it," Cullen retorted quickly with no hint of humor in his voice.

Damn straight he would hold her to it. Peaches and Kala together? That shit was a premature ejaculation waiting to fucking happen.

Isabella's cell phone began chirping in her pocket, shattering the moment and the stare between them.

"I'll um, I'll see you Saturday," she promised as she started walking backwards away from him.

Cullen nodded and cocked the left side of his mouth. "You bet."

He watched her walk away as his own cell began ringing. He threw his leg over the seat of his bike and answered it.

"Yellow."

"Hey, Cullen? It's Emily."

_Emily, Emily, Emily…_He went through the girl's name file in his brain. _Oh, Emily…_

"Oh hey," he sighed, watching Peaches as she crossed the street with her own cell at her ear. "What's up?"

_And more to the point, how the fuck did you get my number?_

"Oh nothing, I'm good. I was just calling to say that Rebecca and I had an _amazing_ time last week…" _Of course you did._ "…and we were wondering if you wanted to do it again sometime."

Cullen's brain began to consider the offer. Well, his dick did at least.

"Are you busy Saturday?" the sickly sweet voice at the end of his phone asked hopefully.

Cullen narrowed his eyes as Peaches' figure became smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the crowds completely.

He smiled to himself and lifted the mouth piece of his cell closer to his lips.

"I can't," he said firmly with his thumb hovering over the end call button. "I'm busy."

**Holy library face off and PAW panting over the bike, Batman!**

**11,000 words never looked so good (modest?)**

**I hope you liked. Next chapter is the park…sigh…we're getting there people…**

**Let me know whether you thought the UST was right.**

**Leave me love…or hate…**

**TTFN x x x**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hola!**

**Sorry for the delay. I hate my wisdom tooth. That is all!**

**Thank you so much to everyone who still loves this story. The girls on Twitter – you are all fabulous and my official PAW princesses. MWAH!**

**PoF has also been nominated for 'Best Written FFn of the year so far' at the A/H Twilight Awards. Link at the bottom. I'd love you vote.**

**Thanks also to everyone who commented on the UST rating. I wasn't far off according to you so thank you. Kala and PAW snapping wrists seemed to get you all hot and bothered. With that in mind…**

**UST rating: 9**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 18: Courage**

_What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything? __**- Vincent van Gogh**_

"Where are you?" Leah asked quickly, with very little breath, as Isabella crossed the street.

Isabella laughed at the underlying urgency in Leah's voice on the other end of the line. "I'm just leaving the library now."

She glanced behind herself to see Cullen, on his own cell, straddling his fuck-hot Harley. Holy shit.

_He had to own a fucking Harley, didn't he?_

"Why," she continued turning away from him. "What's wrong?"

"Are you alone?"

Isabella moved her cell from her ear slightly and frowned at it. "_Yes_. Shouldn't I be?"

"Sorry. I was just askin'," her friend answered in a tone that suggested Isabella had maybe snapped more than she should have.

Before she could apologize she suddenly heard a series of beeps in the background, followed by a large huff of breath down her ear.

"Leah, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm on the cross-trainer at the sports club," Leah panted. "I thought I'd warm up before our tennis match."

Isabella smiled. "Feeling pumped up, huh?"

She clicked the fob on her car keys as she approached the Mini, unlocking the door so that she was able to throw her bags into the back seat.

"You know it, Kid. How long you gonna be?"

"I'll be there in twenty," Isabella answered while looking at her watch. "Don't stay on that equipment too long," she joked. "I wouldn't want to have the upper hand because you pulled a muscle in your ass!"

She heard Leah mumble some kind of obscenity in response as she laughed and pressed end call.

Almost twenty five minutes later and Isabella was changing from her work clothes into her Adidas shorts and matching t-shirt. Her tennis shoes were a welcome relief to the Gucci pumps that had managed to save her _own_ ass from what would have surely been a horrendously embarrassing moment with Cullen at the start of their session. _That_ had been a close call. She had made sure to thank every deity she had ever heard of that he hadn't heard her entire rant about her stupid crush on him and that her explanation and demonstration of her pretty little shoe was enough to placate his curiosity.

(The fact that she liked the way his eyes traveled hungrily up her ankle and leg was something that she would mull over later.)

She was pushing her bag into her locker just as Leah appeared through the changing room doors, red faced, sweating and looking just about ready to keel over.

"Christ," Isabella said behind a giggle as she took in the pink towel that was wrapped tightly around Leah's neck. "You sure you're gonna be up for this?" She twirled her wrist and with it, the tennis racket that was in her hand.

Leah rolled her eyes and moved to the water spigot where she re-filled her bottle. "I'm fine, Swan. Don't let the bloated redness fool you. I'm a machine."

Isabella laughed again as Leah flexed her tiny biceps, grabbed her own towel and water, and made her way to the courts.

Sure enough, Leah was on top form; hitting shots across court like a Federer clone. Isabella however was also feeling pumped and managed to get 95% of the balls back over the net - a fact which Leah was less than happy about. At three games all in the second set - the first of which Leah had won after an intense tie break – the two women took a seat to gather their breath and have a much needed drink.

"So," Leah mumbled into her towel as she wiped her face. "How did the session with Mr. HotStuff-Criminal go?"

Isabella narrowed her eyes at her friend as she sipped from her bottle.

"It went fine," she replied tersely. "And his name is Cullen."

Leah held her palms up, "Apologies to Mr. Cullen."

Isabella couldn't help but smile at that until Leah's face turned soft but solemn. _Uh-Oh._

"Seriously, Bells. How are you feeling about…you know…it all?"

Isabella sighed and shrugged as she played with the tip of her own pony tail, keeping her eyes from her friend's.

"It's a stupid crush and I'm dealing with it," she replied matter-of-factly.

She felt rather than saw Leah move at her side. She turned to see Leah staring intensely back at her, "Really?"

Isabella looked at her friend and chuckled nervously. "Really," she echoed with a sharp nod of her head.

Leah's unconvinced, but anxious eyes remained on Isabella's for an immeasurable amount of time, before she exhaled loudly and went back to drinking her water; knowing without doubt that there was something Isabella wasn't telling her.

Of course, she was right in her knowledge. There was plenty that Isabella was keeping to herself.

She couldn't possibly explain to Leah – as much as she loved her – that Cullen had nearly kissed her and that she had wanted him to. She couldn't explain the heat that traveled through her body when he was near her or the indescribable comfort she felt when she caught a whiff of his deep, masculine scent. She couldn't fathom how she would explain the erotic dreams that she continued to have about the two of them together and she couldn't possibly tell her that her thoughts and feelings for Cullen were becoming a problem in regards to her 'relationship' with Peter.

Isabella wasn't stupid. She had figured that much out on her own.

She nudged Leah's shoulder with a remorseful but pleading look on her face. "Please, Girl," she said in an almost whisper. "I'll sort my shit out. I promise. I'll get over it and move on. I'll just do it in my own time. Ok?"

Leah looked at Isabella with a soft concerned furrow in her brow.

She wanted to believe her best friend; truly she did, but something, deep in the pit of her stomach told her that this apparent 'crush' was not as little or simple as Isabella was trying to make out. She saw the way her eyes lit up at the mention of Cullen's name and she heard the way in which her voice would change when she spoke about him: almost reverently. She'd never seen such behavior from Isabella in all the years that she had known her. No man had ever had this effect. Not even – she felt a twinge of sympathy – Peter.

There was a lot more than a straightforward illicit attraction and Leah, for one, was very worried. She immediately felt guilty for her thoughts and worries but she couldn't help it. She wanted her friend to be content and…dare she say…loved? Cullen could be that man - only fate would be so cruel - but Leah and Isabella knew that she was playing with fire. Real life for Isabella Swan, Leah thought sadly, had never been an easy ride.

"I just want you to be happy, Bells," Leah said as she wrapped an arm around her friend's small but strong shoulders, "Careful; but happy."

Isabella smiled meekly before whispering, "Leah. I _won't_ be stupid."

Leah saw a look of determination in the brown of Isabella's large eyes but even so, she couldn't help but wonder who it was she was _really_ trying to convince.

=PoF=

"Does it hurt yet?"

No reply. Not even a head shake.

_Another notch then, maybe?_

"How about now?"

Still nothing.

_Let's edge that baby up a little further._

A small but audible groan came from deep within Cullen's throat as he held the bar - that Alec was gradually increasing the weight of - with his feet. He was lying on his back, in nothing but shorts and sneakers, his legs perpendicular to his body, as they shook with the effort it took to hold the fuck ton of heaviness that was pressing against them.

_Increase the strength in my calves and thighs my fucking ass. My spine is about to snap in two!_

Cullen watched with eyes like slits as Alec made to move once more towards the weight distributor. He moaned and tried to shake his head no, but found that every time he tried to move any part of his body, his legs buckled a little bit more. He gripped harder onto the handles at each side of the bench.

"Ims…_frts_…uckop," he mumbled incoherently as he grit his teeth and pushed his legs outwards, feeling his thighs pull taut like a rubber band about to snap.

Why hadn't he just stayed in fucking bed? This was no way to spend a Saturday morning!

Alec leaned over him, purposefully putting his forearm on Cullen's right shin; increasing the pressure while simultaneously looking innocently oblivious to the pain he was in.

"I'm sorry," he said as he stuck the tip of his pen in his left ear in an attempt to clear the invisible blockage. "What was that?"

Cullen took a deep shaking breath up his nose, feeling his pulse slam in his temples. "It fucking hurts. Stop. Please."

The left side of Alec's mouth lifted slightly before, as leisurely as he could, he pulled down the harness and attached it to the weight that Cullen was holding up. He'd done well. He'd taken a lot more than Alec had estimated and his bitching had been kept to a minimum: A definite improvement.

Cullen's legs straightened out, then bent as the load lifted and immediately cramped, buckling him over as he tried to stand and stretch it out. He stumbled back onto the bench; his legs unable to hold him up.

"Motherfucker," he groaned breathlessly as he rubbed at his calf that was shaking like a leaf in winter under his palm. "Jesus, man, you nearly fucking killed me!"

He rubbed harder as his muscles, twisted and tightened further. The pain was enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut. He tried to stand again and lasted slightly longer than he had previously before slumping back down again; the bottom of his back, twinging at the change in position.

Alec rolled his eyes but quickly grabbed some soft acting muscle relaxant from his desk in his office at the far side of the gym and knelt down in front of Cullen, rubbing the heinous smelling shit into the backs of his legs.

The relief was almost instantaneous and Cullen lay back and closed his eyes at the sensation, resting his hands on his bare, sweaty stomach.

"Dude," he mumbled as Alec moved to his other leg. "If you were a woman…I would have humped the shit out of you for doing that."

Alec smirked and shook his head. "Well, thank fuck for small mercies _and_ my fucking wife."

Cullen laughed heartily and nodded in definite agreement. Alec couldn't help but notice how much calmer Cullen seemed. Even after just over a week out of the slammer. Alec had always prided himself in knowing instantly about the inmates that he took under his militant wing and – with regards to Cullen – he forever suspected that his cocky, aggressive demeanor was simply a wall he built to hide…whatever it was he felt he had to. He was more than the one dimensional asshole with a bad attitude and a sharp tongue that many assumed.

After five minutes, Alec moved from Cullen back to his office and the small sink where he washed the shit from his hands. When he returned he found Cullen stood upright – still a little wobbly – drinking his water like a man dying of thirst.

Cullen pulled the bottle from his mouth with a gasp and wiped at his face with his forearm.

"What's next, Master?" he asked as he threw his almost empty bottle on top of his towel.

Alec gave him an annoyed and exasperated look. The whole Jedi-Master joke was wearing a little thin. Cullen however still thought calling Alec 'Yoda' was allsorts of hysterical. He had been garnered with the title at Arthur Kill by Emmett. Alec was wise, small but tough as fuck and kinda looked like the Star Wars character; Cullen couldn't see his problem with it.

"We need to stretch those legs and keep that muscles relaxant hot so that you can walk tomorrow." Alec smiled when he saw Cullen's eyes widen in panic at his words. "Follow me."

Cullen nodded and like the good parolee that he was, followed Alec towards the half size boxing ring in the corner of the gym. He grinned when Alec threw him a pair of red gloves.

"Get in," he ordered.

Cullen didn't need telling twice.

He pulled on the amateur gloves that left the bottom of his fingers visible and slipped under the ropes, bouncing up and down in the middle of the ring and grimacing at the clenching of his thigh muscles as he did. Alec appeared with his own pair of blue defenders that were attached to his hands and arms and handed Cullen a mouth guard which he put in without question.

"Ok," Alec mumbled with daring in his eyes. "Take your best shot." He lifted the defenders up and watched Cullen over the top of them.

Cullen smiled and winked at his instructor before smashing his right fist hard into the blue cushion defender. The red and blue blurred together quickly so that it looked almost purple. The relief that blew up the muscles of Cullen's arm was fucking awesome.

This is what he needed. He needed to cleanse himself of all the fucking tension that was packing itself inside his body like a goddamn Tetris game. He needed to free himself of it; _especially_ three hours before seeing Peaches in Central Park. And it seemed, boxing worked a damn sight fucking faster in decreasing his tension than jerking his dick every time he took a fucking shower.

He hit with his right, his left, his right, right, left, before using an upper cut that, annoyingly, didn't take Alec by surprise. Cullen bounced from foot to foot, watching as Alec moved forward taking every blow that came his way.

_See. Fucking Yoda._

"So, how have you enjoyed you first week of freedom?" Alec asked as he moved away so that Cullen's fist flew against nothing but air. _Fucker._

"Yeah. Great. I'm fucking ecstatic to be free," Cullen deadpanned, "Especially when I still have my parole officer and parole councilor telling me how to live my fucking life. Its like I never left!"

Alec frowned, "How so?"

Cullen punched twice in quick succession, smiling when he heard Alec cough a little from the impact.

"They came to my apartment last night," Cullen continued through his quick intakes of breath. "All the usual bullshit. Charlotte wants to know if I am 'in the right mind-set' and Garrett's concerned because I've not spoken to my father blah fucking blah. You know what he's like, Alec."

Alec nodded and lifted his arms to catch Cullen's left punch.

Garrett, Cullen conceded silently, hadn't _actually_ been too bad. Neither had his parole officer, he simply begrudged the fuckers for taking his Peaches time away from him. They had stayed at his apartment until the early evening, drinking coffee and discussing his work at the body shop, his work outs with Alec and his anger therapy that he was still to start.

Garrett, the sly shit, had waited nearly an hour before he brought up the sessions with Peaches. Cullen had answered his questions and was pleased that Charlotte had received Peaches' paper work so that she could support what he was saying about the work they had done together. He dodged Garrett's suspicious stares as best as he could but, he had to admit, the fucker was relentless.

"So," Garrett had murmured as he glanced at the bathroom door that Charlotte had just gone through. "You and Miss Swan are…ok?"

Cullen had looked at Garrett's face, seeing an expression of genuine concern around wary eyes.

"Yeah," he had replied softly with a nonchalant shrug. "We're fine. Good actually," he smiled slightly. "The sessions are interesting and we get a lot done."

Garrett inclined his head in understanding. "And um…you're behaving?" He cleared his throat after muttering his last words into his coffee mug.

"What does that mean?" Cullen asked incredulously. "Of _course_ I'm fucking behaving." _Liar._ "Why wouldn't I be?"

Garrett, after putting his cup down, held his hands up to calm him.

"I didn't mean that, Edward," he hushed. "Miss Swan has already stated in her papers to Charlotte that your attitude is much improved."

Cullen looked a little surprised considering what had happened at the last session with the fat fuck and his lack of manners and spacial-awareness. He couldn't help but smile at Peaches' discretion. She wasn't a snitch and he liked that. Not that the dick in the library didn't totally deserve having his wrist snapped in two for smacking into her the way he did.

Garrett sighed, noticing the look of light that passed the handsome face in front of him. "Edward, I meant…" He looked once more at the bathroom door and lowered his voice before continuing. "I meant, are you managing the sessions with it…just being the two of you?"

Cullen tried to maintain Garrett's stare but found that his eyes had other ideas, settling quickly on his socked feet that were shifting nervously on the floor. He fingered the edge of his coffee table and raised his eyebrows as if that was enough to answer Garrett's question.

Was he managing with it just being the two of them? Yes. Was he about ready to blow a fuse with the tension between him and Peaches? _Fuck _yes. Would he give it up…?

He slowly lifted his head to Garrett and gave him a pointed look. "I'm not an idiot, G." Cullen's voice was small and Garrett immediately felt protective of the boy.

"I know you're not, Edward," Garrett had agreed quickly. "I never said you were. But you have to understand the implications of…you know if…if anything…" He trailed off, knowing that Edward understood what he was suggesting, and thank God for that.

Garrett had witnessed the closeness of Edward and Isabella.

He had seen first-hand, the chemistry and fire that burned between them and as enrapturing as it was, it also scared him to death. It reminded Garrett of his own relationship with his wife Kate and how they too had been unable to deny the pull each had on the other. The inevitable explosion of passion that resulted once they gave up fighting was followed by an incredible euphoria that Garrett had only ever read about. Remembering the union, he had no idea how Edward had kept his shit so together.

Cullen watched Garrett carefully. He knew, after the whole passing out while mumbling the name Peaches, heated arguing and thousand-dollar birthday present that Garrett understood. There was something more. That Peaches was more. And although it should have worried Cullen, it really didn't.

Garrett was cool even if, in his own way, he was warning his parolee.

He was warning him off all the things that Cullen had thought about since the day he had first seen Peaches in Arthur Kill: the things that he would gladly do to her in the darkened corners of the reading room that they used for their sessions or on top of his _Kala,_ who had purred under Peaches' touch.

Sitting thinking about it, he had felt the familiar heat accumulate in his crotch.

Cullen knew he was fucked and when he had looked back at Garrett a silent understanding passed between them.

Garret knew that Cullen was involved way too much than he should have been with his tutor but Cullen's returning stare told Garrett that he knew where the line was.

The question that hung between them was, as Charlotte retuned from the bathroom, would he be able to stay on the right side of it?

Cullen punched at Alec once more before creasing in the middle and settling his gloved hands against his knees, panting and steaming with heat and sweat. He _was_ physically tired but more than that, he was mentally weary too. Alec noticed this immediately and called time on the work out ten minutes early. Cullen had worked hard. He deserved it.

Cullen was extremely appreciative. As it was, thinking about the situation with Peaches was starting to drive him just a little bit crazy.

It hadn't been helped by the guys at the body shop who - once they had heard from the mouth that _is_ Jacob fucking Black that he was meeting Peaches in the park - had joked and continued to make lewd comments about his 'date' and all the places in the park he could take her for some, 'private one-on-one.'

Needless to say, Cullen hadn't found it at all funny (After he'd taken a second to consider their suggestions, of course). All he had done all day was repeatedly tell the dickheads around him that it _wasn't_ a fucking date!

Cullen didn't _do_ dates!

They all finally stopped their girly fucking giggling when, at the end of his patience; Cullen had smacked his hand so hard into the wall that the plaster had cracked. A tense silence had fallen over them before they all quickly resumed their work. Cullen felt bad – for about two seconds.

That should teach the cocksuckers to keep their fucking mouths shut.

It's not a date. It's _not_ a date.

The four words had become like a mantra for Cullen. Even as he pulled off his boxing gloves, left the gym and rode Kala home, he was chanting it silently over and over. In the shower, getting re-dressed and even as he pulled on his boots the words swirled around him like a fucking tornado. After stopping at the clinic to give a mandatory blood and urine sample, Cullen decided that he was starving and, with half an hour before he was meant to meet Peaches, the golden arches of McDonalds suddenly started beckoning him mercilessly.

With the brown bag in hand and Kala parked safely away, Cullen took a seat on the benches outside of _F.A.O Schwartz_ and began people watching while he ate his Big Mac. He groaned in satisfaction as he took a bite of his burger, not realizing just how much he had missed that shit while he was inside. Hell, he was so involved in the taste of it that he even ate the pickles. Once he had polished it off, along with the large fries and large Sprite, he leaned back and took a breath.

It was the first time that he had really slowed to any kind of stop since his release from Arthur Kill and, as much as he liked being on the go and busy, he also appreciated the need to just take a moment. Before he was put away he would quite often sit in Central or Battery Park with a full pack of Marlboro, and simply sit back and enjoy being still. As hot as his temper was, acting like the asshole everyone expected him to be was exhausting. Being on his own, he would let the heat go and allow him self to be someone different; someone who wasn't so disagreeable and fucked up. It only ever happened for a short time, but he reveled in that shit when it did. Now that he was out of his cage, he would be able to do it more. He realized he liked that idea a lot.

Under the hot New York sun, Cullen watched the crowds on 5th Avenue as they walked by, oblivious to the rest of the world around them.

He smiled to himself knowingly when two girls of about twenty, smirked flirtatiously and giggled as they passed him. They were nothing but blatant in their ogling of his ass and Cullen - used to such reactions from most females - couldn't help but drop his shades down his nose and smile back, wide and toothy.

It worked like a damn charm as the two girls both stammered and stumbled away from him. Cullen snickered into the back of his hand and pushed his shades back in place. _Fucking women._

Sitting back, his attention was quickly drawn to a couple located not ten feet from him. They were kissing, but not in a way that Cullen had ever experienced. They were being…soft and…tender? The guy was holding his woman's face as though she would surely shatter if he handled her too roughly and she looked almost serene as she let him do it.

Cullen frowned a little. Soft and tender wasn't his thing at all. He had never kissed that way – when he _had_ kissed, that is – and he had certainly never 'made love'. He wasn't even sure that such a thing existed. Jake had talked about his time with Vanessa as being like that but Cullen found it hard to imagine.

He liked sex. No, he liked fucking and when he did, there was nothing soft and tender about it. Maybe he was a fucking asshole for doing it that way but shit, he'd never had any complaints. Every woman who left his bed did so satisfied and many came back wanting seconds.

No, Cullen thought as he pulled his stare from the man and woman, soft and tender wasn't his bag at all.

Looking once again across the busy street, he quickly caught a glimpse of long dark hair and pale arms and legs. He craned is neck slightly past the people standing in front of him and felt his mouth lift into a smile when he realized that it _was_ his Peaches. She looked…_goddamn her_. She was wearing a white wife beater that showed of her neck and shoulders and black shorts that stopped mid-thigh. The shorts were in no way overly revealing – she was, as always, dressed with an edge of class - but fuck, she could wear a paper bag and make his cock hard.

She was undoubtedly beautiful but she oozed sexiness without even trying.

Cullen's eyes seemed glued to her as she stood by the entrance where they had agreed to meet, playing on her cell phone. The strange feeling that he had had in his stomach outside the library three nights before, instantly began to snake its way through his intestines making him suck in a breath of surprise. It was the oddest sensation; a hunger and, Cullen decided, he didn't like it one little bit.

It wasn't the sensation itself that he didn't like as much as it was the sense of unease and the overwhelming feeling of being out of control that came with it.

He knew that, had he not had his wits about him, he _would_ have kissed Peaches on the steps of the library and that would have been…it would have been…

…Cullen blinked in confusion as his mind instantly went blank.

How _would_ he feel if he kissed her?

Hard and horny as fuck? Most definitely.

Even more desperate to feel what it would be like to be inside of her? God, yes.

Happy? Um…

Cullen rubbed his palms roughly down his face. This thought process was far too fucking deep for a Saturday afternoon. He needed to get his head out of his ass and focused on why he was there. Studying. Session. Parole.

He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. It's _not _a date.

He glanced down at his watch and raised his eyebrows in surprise. _Son-of-a-bitch._

_She_ was late. By nearly fifteen minutes!

Oh, baby, he thought with a smile and a playful shake of his head as he lifted from his seat and strolled arrogantly towards her.

_That_ was a mistake.

He approached her from behind, allowing his eyes to dance over her ass and legs as he did. Her ass was resplendent and -ironically enough - peachy as hell. And her legs were pale like cream. She was ending a call on her phone as he stepped close enough to smell her hair that he suddenly wanted to bury his face into. He shook the feeling off and leaned down to her ear.

"What time do you call _this,_ Miss Swan?"

She yelped in surprise, spinning around in a swirl of white vest and chocolate hair. Her palm was glued to her chest as she willed her heart to calm down and desist from leaping from between her ribs. Her face was stunning in its shock. Wide eyes and open mouth…_shit_…Cullen cleared his throat of _that_ particular idea.

"Jesus! Cullen," Isabella gasped. "What is with you and scaring me all the damn time?"

She dropped her hand and then used it to hoist her bag further up her shoulder. Cullen didn't reply, loving her sassiness. He simply cocked an eyebrow, the left side of his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for an explanation for her tardiness.

She cleared her throat and dropped her cell into her bag, avoiding his gaze as she answered embarrassedly, "I got held up."

"Mmhm," Cullen hummed without moving a muscle. "And here I was thinking that _I _was the most important man in your life."

He was messing with her but a part of him – that sneaky fucking hungry part – really wanted it to be the truth. His possessiveness really _was_ becoming ridiculous. It had been ridiculous while he had been inside – Tyler's face could attest to that shit - but now that he was out, the possessive streak within him ran deeper. He could touch her now (if she allowed him to), be with her, and talk to her without eagle-eyed guards and cameras. Yeah, it was _completely_ ridiculous. A ridiculous nightmare.

Peaches huffed and put her hand on her hip. "Delusions of grandeur," she snipped back with a half smirk. "Besides," she continued. "I wasn't with a man."

Isabella frowned to herself. _Why the hell did she say that?_ Even if it _was_ the truth, it sure as hell wasn't Cullen's business whether she was with a man or not.

Cullen's jaw unclenched in unprecedented and utterly unexpected relief. All he could think in the back of his mind was, _thank fuck. _He continued to watch Peaches' face. She seemed surprised to have shared that information with him; embarrassed even. He quickly changed the subject.

"Well, I suppose I can allow your lateness to slide _this_ time," he deadpanned through a long breath that made pieces of Peaches' hair move. He leaned down closer to her and lowered his voice in warning. "Just don't let it happen again."

Isabella swallowed, "Or else what?"

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

She could have bitten her own tongue the fuck off but the words were far too quick and easy. He just looked so extraordinarily sexy in his Ray Ban shades and deep red _Kings of Leon_ t-shirt. The sleeves of his t-shirt were shorter than she had seen on him before, showing off more of the amazing black, red and gold ink half sleeves that she was desperate to explore. His stonewash denim jacket was hanging loosely from his left forearm and his black jeans were once again outrageously low.

_Was that grey underwear she could see poking from the waistband?_

Cullen stared at her, stunned as fuck at her question, and hard as hell that she was eyeing his tattoos. He gathered himself before she noticed his shock and moved even closer to her. He smiled inwardly when he noticed that she didn't step back.

"Oh Peaches," he whispered. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He took a deep breath of her hair before he moved away.

Her eyes were then fixed on his, large and as dark as his precious Oreos. Something bright flashed within them, but it was gone before Cullen could identify it. Isabella flicked her hair casually over her shoulder and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Not really," she replied with a small scrunch of her nose. "Come on. We have work to do."

Cullen's smile spread across his face and a small laugh escaped him as she literally stormed past him into the park. _She wanted to know._

He had to jog a little to catch her up but once he did, he pushed his hands into his jeans pockets and followed her lead.

"So," he said as they made their way through the gates and across the cobbled path. "Where are we doing this?"

Isabella looked up at the blue sky and smiled gently. It was a beautiful day. "I thought we'd sit by the boating pond? I know a great spot."

Cullen wasn't sure why she said it like a question but nodded and lifted one shoulder in acquiescence. "Great."

As was always the case on a hot Saturday, the park was teeming with people and Cullen found himself shifting from one side to the other to avoid being pushed or shoved by kids and/or dogs. Isabella noticed his frown as he did so and couldn't help but chuckle to herself.

He looked so out of place among the normal run of the mill New Yorkers and tourists. Not for any other reason than the fact that he was so breathtaking in all his six-two, bronze-haired, sharp-jawed glory. She couldn't help but notice the admiring glances that he got from the women that they walked past as well as the swell of annoyance that came with them (which was just plain weird).

Isabella had secretly been dreading meeting Cullen outside of the library. She knew that _technically_ she wasn't doing anything wrong by being with him in the park and that _technically_ she had nothing to worry about as they were there to study, but deep inside, she knew she was on shaky ground. She hadn't told Leah, Alice or Jamie about the session, knowing that she was bound to get some sort of lecture from one, if not all, of them.

Leah, although fairly mute on the subject, was concerned, as was her brother – which was no big surprise. And Alice? Well, Alice had been quiet of late. Isabella knew she had been busy with her new job but it was very unlike her to not have been in regular contact for as long as she had. There had been a couple of text messages but that had been it. Considering that Isabella had been out with Peter again, it worried her that Alice hadn't mentioned it. Maybe she didn't want to involve herself? Isabella could understand that.

"You ok over there, Peaches?"

Cullen's voice pulled her back to the park and the edge of the boating pond. She looked up at him to see the top of his nose bunched into a concerned frown.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered before glancing around herself. "The spot's just over there."

She made her way over to the grass and pressed a hand down to check it's dampness.

"Here," Cullen muttered as he laid his jacket down. "You can…um, just sit on that." He whipped a hand through his hair and looked out towards the water feeling absurdly nervous.

"The grass is dry," Isabella insisted. Of course it was dry. It had been almost ninety degrees the entire summer.

Cullen shrugged. "Just sit on the damn thing," he almost demanded with an open palm gesturing towards it. "It won't kill ya."

"Ok, ok," Isabella countered with exasperated wide eyes as she dropped her stuff to the floor. "Thank you."

Cullen nodded and watched her sit down gingerly before reaching into the Titanic-sinking bag of hers. He dropped down, his arm grazing hers as he did. He pretended not to notice, but the burn of heat that surged through his body at the contact, was hard to fucking ignore.

He lit a cigarette quickly to try and calm himself, leisurely leaning back on his elbows as he blew the smoke down his nose. He looked out across the water, glancing at the children climbing all over the Alice in Wonder statue that was situated to their right.

He'd loved climbing that thing as a kid; every other Saturday. It was his parent's meeting place. A handover spot…

He huffed in annoyance at the fuck awful direction his brain was going and sucked on his smoke.

"I um…"

Cullen turned to the sound of Peaches' voice, thankful for the distraction.

"I brought you something," she finished as she reached into her bag.

He raised his eyebrows in expectation and surprised excitement as she pulled out her hand to reveal a large packet of Oreos. He looked at her through his shades for a beat, waiting for the punch line, before he grinned and snorted which Isabella couldn't help but echo. She threw them onto his lap.

Cullen stumped his smoke out on the grass, looking at the blue and white perfection resting on his thigh. "You shouldn't have," he chuckled through a breath of smoke.

Isabella waved him off dismissively.

"They're more for me," she muttered, seeing a questioning expression cross his face. "I know what a grumpy ass you can be without your Oreos and I don't need your attitude." She smiled before delving back into her bag, "And no. I didn't bring milk."

Cullen laughed again. "Well alright then," he replied. He grinned widely at Isabella and sat up, ripping the packet open with his teeth. "But seriously thanks. I love these fucking things."

Isabella laughed gently. "You're welcome."

She couldn't help but think how happy and calm he looked. He looked as he did when he had spoken about the engines he worked on and Harley that he obviously adored.

"You want?" he asked holding the packet out to her while his tongue began doing obscene things to the white cream in the centre of the cookie.

She watched, entranced. "Um, no, I'm good," she answered with a shake of her head.

_Was it even _possible_ to be jealous of a fucking cookie?_

She turned from him quickly and pulled out the session resources and placed Cullen's next to him. The previous session, Isabella had been utterly thrown by the revelation that Cullen hadn't known the poem that she had chosen. His reaction – as predicted – was to get mad at himself. But once they had talked through the poem and reflected on its message, he had seemed calmer and eager to tell her his thoughts. Today they were re-capping. She handed him his copy, asking him to refresh her with what they had learned and sat back ready to listen to him.

He didn't disappoint. It seemed that her gift of calorific cookie beauty had unleashed his garrulous side. She loved listening to him. His voice – even when he cursed – was like wrapping yourself in velvet. Much like its owner, it was filled with paradoxes. It was soft but firm, loud but quiet, commanding and submissive.

Isabella was glad that she had put her shades on. She could hide the fact that she closed her eyes as she listened to him. It was like listening to a lullaby. It seemed to ease some place deep inside of her; much like his scent.

"You like this poem," she stated when he became quiet. Cullen shrugged slightly in answer.

"It's ok," he offered as he lay back on the grass next to where Isabella was sitting cross legged. "I like the metaphors he uses even if I don't agree with them."

Isabella smiled. "Which don't you agree with?"

He took a deep breath which made his t-shirt rise from the waist band of his jeans as his stomach lifted. Isabella tried not to notice. She really did.

"The whole sex is like heaven and I'm surrounded by fucking cherubs while I'm getting off thing just doesn't sound right."

Isabella shifted on the denim jacket at his words. She had to keep reminding herself that Cullen spoke fairly freely when it came to sex and bodily functions and, not that she was a prudish by any stretch of the imagination, it made Isabella feel funny inside. She liked hearing him say words like sex and fuck. Maybe too much?

"Can you explain that more?" she asked with a small voice.

Cullen leaned on his left forearm so that he was facing her. "It's just that sex is _just_ sex," he replied with both palms moving in a circular motion by way of explanation. Isabella raised her eyebrows above her shades, waiting for him to continue.

"It's two people wanting the same thing and doing what needs to be done," he muttered with a shrug. "It's raw, hard and…I don't know…I mean, for me," he pointed to his chest. "When I'm with someone, and I'm…"

He looked up at Peaches' face and stopped talking. She was looking back at him, her mouth slightly open and her cheeks pink from the sun. His mouth suddenly felt very dry.

What the hell was he doing discussing his sexcapades with his Peaches? What the fuck was he thinking? He sat up quickly and rubbed at the knees of his jeans.

"Cullen?"

"What?" he murmured with his head down. The grass he was sitting on sudenly became really fucking interesting.

"You were saying?" Peaches encouraged with a dip of her head, trying to catch his eye.

"It doesn't matter. I don't get it so…whatever." He shrugged and pulled the grass out with his fist.

Cullen had no idea what the hell he was feeling.

He was a highly sexed guy. He had had many partners, sometimes more than one at once. He wasn't ashamed of his body and he certainly loved the female body with its silky softness and curves. He watched porn, jacked off regularly and had tried all sorts of kink from spanking to bondage. No fucker could call _his_ ass a prude.

But speaking to his Peaches about being with other women created a strange sensation in the centre of his chest. He didn't feel embarrassed or ashamed but more uncomfortable with her knowing that he had done other women. Which, considering his reputation, was fucking absurd. She was bound to assume that his sexual record was about as clean as his criminal one, yet he still couldn't find the words to talk to her about his past sexual exploits.

Regardless of whether she wanted to know or not, he wasn't about to tell her, just as he was sure as shit not going to ask her about the guys _she_ had been with. _Dammit._ He felt his fists tighten at the mere thought.

Confused and a little turned on, Isabella could almost see the waves of discomfort coming off of Cullen as he sat in silence, taking his temper out on the grass he was seated on. She didn't like it when he shut down with her and instantly thought of ways to make it better. She checked her watch to see that they had been talking for over an hour before she glanced up into the hot sun.

"You know," she said as she pulled her hair off of her shoulders and pushed it up into a messy bun with the hair tie from around her wrist. "I could kill for a popsicle."

Cullen, who had been watching her play with her hair with a lax mouth and a tight crotch nodded in agreement, lest his tongue run away with him. Or all over her. _For fuck's sake she was stunning._ Talking about sex and getting off was doing nothing for Cullen's attempts at being a gentleman. His eyes danced across her body, soaking in her beauty and perfection. The curve of her neck, as it met her shoulders, just ached for his mouth along it. He wanted to lick her up to her ear lobe and then nibble on that shit to see if she tasted as good as she looked and smelled. He had no doubt in his mind that she would be fucking delicious.

He dropped his head between his knees and tried to hide his moan of arousal and frustration.

Isabella pulled her purse out of her bag. "What can I get you?"

He looked up at her quickly to see her pushing her shades up into her hair as she waited for an answer.

"Um," he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. "I'm good but here," he pulled out a ten dollar bill. "Let me get it."

Isabella looked at the money and cocked an eyebrow. Cullen exhaled. _Here we fucking go._

"Why do _you_ have to pay?" she asked quietly.

Cullen couldn't help but smile at her predictable attitude towards a guy paying for something.

"Because I want to," he replied matter-of-factly. "Now get off your feminist high-horse and take the fucking money. I owe you for the Oreo delights anyway."

"I have my own money. _I_ want to pay," Isabella replied.

"Tough shit, Sweet Cheeks."

"_Don't_ call me Sweet Cheeks."

"Then let me pay for your damned Popsicle."

A small smile tugged at Isabella's mouth as she snatched the money from him.

"Fine, Cullen, I'll let you pay," she said with a smug expression, "If _you_ have something too."

Cullen smiled with the left side of his mouth and leaned back into his previous position. She looked allsorts of sexy when she was being manipulative. He liked it.

"Are we negotiating here, Peaches?"

"Absolutely," she replied with a dip of her chin. "I don't like eating on my own so what'll it be?"

Cullen glanced at the man standing by the boating pond with his freezer on wheels and smiled.

"In that case I'll have a popsicle too," he said as he turned back to Isabella.

He reached for his shades and pulled them down his nose, leaning towards her. He stared right at her and whispered, "Peach flavored."

Isabella swallowed. Hard. _Fuck._ How the hell did he do that? Be cool.

Cullen pushed his shades back up and watched as she stood and walked over to the large ice cream man. He watched as she smiled at him and asked for what she wanted. The man, who was at least sixty and had a belly that would put _Jabba the Hut_ to shame, said something to his Peaches that made her laugh loudly. She threw her head back as she did, once again showing the arch of her neck. _So sexy._ The sound drifted back to him and tugged at his mouth so that he was smiling too. It eased the weird feeling that had appeared in his chest not ten minutes before to the point that he felt he could breathe a little better.

Isabella glanced over at Cullen to see him looking in her direction. Whether or not he was looking at _her_ was another question altogether as his beautiful green eyes were hidden by his hot ass shades. Strangely, the tingle at the back of her neck and the warmth in her stomach suggested that his eyes _were_ on her and, for the first time since they had made themselves known, she allowed herself to embrace the feelings that came over her.

She strolled back over to him, smiling gently as she did, and handed him his Popsicle and his change. He pushed the money into his pocket and tore at the wrapper on his ice.

"You, um…you're not gonna check your change?" she asked as she did the same.

Cullen smiled. "Should I?"

Isabella shrugged. "No, I'll just tell you that I took two dollars for my efforts of walking there and back."

Cullen laughed and the sound was wonderful to Isabella's ears. It was hearty and genuine and left goose flesh up her arms. She sank back onto the grass and licked at her ice.

"Holy shit," Cullen remarked as he looked to his side and then down at her. "It really is peach flavor!"

Isabella laughed. "_That's_ what you asked for."

"I know," he answered sounding a little dumbfounded. "But damn." He dropped himself heavily onto his back so that the pair of them were lying side by side.

They were silent as they both looked up at the blue sky, enjoying the cold flavored ice as it worked its magic on their warm bodies. Cullen kept his eyes front and centre at all time because, as God was his witness, he knew that seeing Peaches lick and suck a cock shaped ice was not conducive to rational public behavior and he would _not_ be held accountable for his actions.

But _fuck it_ he wanted to sneak a peek!

He did. He couldn't help it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her sucking gently on the raspberry colored Popsicle. _Sweet Jesus._ Her cheeks were hollowing. He cleared his throat and continued eating his.

"This is nice," Isabella murmured after a moment.

Cullen didn't reply but licked the remaining juice off of the wooden stick that he had in his hand.

"I used to come and sit here with my mom and dad when we stayed in New York."

Cullen paused for a second before her reached for his shades and pulled them off. He attached them to his t-shirt and rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his palm. Isabella looked up at him and smiled gently.

"We'd play hide and seek and he would always pretend that he couldn't find me, even when I knew he could see me." She laughed but it was more of a staggered breath.

Cullen saw the edges of pain that ran around her face and the grief that still remained in her eyes. He reached out with his free hand and tucked a wayward piece of her hair behind her ear. He desperately wanted to trace the curve of her lobe with his finger tip but resisted. Isabella, who was oblivious to the contact, closed her eyes and sighed.

"He liked sitting here," she continued quietly. "He liked it in the Fall. The leaves would surround us and we would just sit here."

Isabella's eyes remained closed as she remembered her father, burying them both in the golden leaves that fell around them. He would wrap her up and hug her in the cold, darkness. She always felt so safe. God, she missed him.

"My dad and I would play here too." Cullen couldn't help the words as the dropped from his mouth and Isabella's eyes immediately snapped open.

He swallowed and avoided her gaze as though he were embarrassed by his words. He trailed his finger slowly along the strands of her mahogany hair that were lying on the grass.

"We'd play by the pond before we would start on the statue." He gestured with a tip of his head in the direction of the bronze Alice in Wonderland structure that was covered in small children. He kept his eyes on his finger. "And my mom would…" He exhaled as though the words hurt to say. "My mom would come and take me."

Isabella was speechless. She had never heard him talk about anything personal before and hearing it, in such a soft lilt, was unnerving. Cullen suddenly looked so small and fragile. She didn't know what to say or do but had the overwhelming desire to hug him. Instead she simply looked at him. His eyes were still averted and the green of them was framed by something dark and troubled. She was desperate to ask more but she knew that he would bolt.

"Maybe we saw each other," Isabella said with a small smile. "It is a small world after all."

_If only you knew the half of it, Peaches…_

Cullen's eyes met hers and the darkness eased. She was so beautiful. But he had always thought so.

"Yeah," he muttered before he sat up again and stretched a little, shaking off the urge to place his mouth against hers.

He didn't know why he had shared that with her. Maybe it was because she looked so sad when she spoke of her father he felt the need to share some of his pain too? He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his stubbled chin before pulling out another smoke.

Isabella followed his position and pulled the bag and her knees closer to her chest. The atmosphere between them had changed to something other than flirty Popsicle talk and she wasn't sure how to change it back. The ground beneath them was shaking dangerously. She could feel it but didn't allow herself to worry. What was the point?

"So, um…I have a question for you," she said as she rummaged in her bag.

Cullen dropped his chin to his chest as he blew out his smoke, waiting for a question about his family or his past or some other equally personal hard limit.

"What Peaches?" he asked despondently as he stared at the floor between his bent knees.

"Which one do you want?"

He frowned as he looked back up at her to see her holding two books in each hand. He coughed a laugh of relief and rubbed his left eye as he closed them. He looked again at the four books and shrugged.

"I don't have a fucking clue. Why?"

Isabella gave him a pointed look that told him she thought he was useless and dropped her hands to her lap.

"We have to study a text and I wanted your input. The class are doing this one, but we don't have to do the same because you're…"

She trailed off and nibbled on her bottom lip as she traced the front cover of one of the books.

"Because I'm…" He gestured for her to continue with a wave of his hand. "What, Peaches? What were you going to say?" He snapped a little, automatically thinking that she was going to say something derogatory or smart ass.

Isabella didn't rise to the bait but looked him squarely in the eye. "I was going to say that we don't have to do the same because you aren't on the same level as they are. You're different."

_Well, shit, I sure as hell didn't expect that…_

"Oh," he replied like an asshole. "Um…thanks?"

Isabella rolled her eyes and threw the books onto the ground in front of him so that he cold pick. "Choose one."

"I haven't read any of them," he confessed. "I know the basics of this one, but other than that I'm at a fucking loss. You're getting good at this, Peaches." He smiled over the tip of his cigarette.

He was taking the fact that he didn't know the texts a lot better than he had on their previous session. Maybe they _were_ making progress?

"Well, I love_ this_ story," Isabella said as she pointed to the book to Cullen's right; the one that he knew the basics of. "I haven't read it for a very long time but it always stayed with me."

He picked it up and read the blurb, his cigarette dangling from his lips as he did, "_A Farewell to Arms_ by Ernest Hemmingway."

"It's a really wonderful story," Isabella added. "But I have to warn you, apart from the war parts it's essentially a tragic love story."

Cullen rolled his eyes and flicked through the pages. "Yeah, I know that. _Whatever," _he grumbled. "I'm sure I'll live."

"Great," Isabella chimed as she pulled out a pad and pen and made some notes. "Do you want to take it home and read it? I can set you maybe two chapters that we'll discuss next session?"

Cullen immediately pulled a face as he stumped out his smoke. Isabella huffed. "What's _that_ face for? We have to do this shit, Cullen. I'm not asking you because I'm being a bitch."

"I know that," he bit back. He took a breath and tapped the book against his knee. "Look, Peaches. It's just…if I take this book there's no way I'm going to read it at home. I'm not gonna lie to you about that shit."

Isabella was surprised at his admission. An intelligent individual like him could have muddled his way through a session even if he hadn't opened the damned thing. She appreciated his honesty.

"Fair enough," she offered. "Then we have to read it together." Her eyes suddenly danced and her chest squeezed. "And we do that on one condition."

Cullen tittered into his hands. "Are we negotiating, Peaches?"

"Absolutely," she replied with a grin. "If we have to read this during the session, _you_ have to read it out loud."

"What?" he bellowed with wide eyes, making the people around them turn and look. He lowered his voice. "Are you fucking around?"

Isabella smiled, crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head from side to side, "Nope. Take it or leave it, Cullen."

The little fucking player, Cullen thought. She was getting entirely too good at playing his ass the way she wanted and secretly, he fucking loved it.

He huffed out a breath and shot her a death glare that was half assed. "Fine," he growled with a wave of his hand. "Whatever."

"You say that a lot," Isabella retorted. "Maybe we need to work on your vocabulary while we're at it."

Cullen stared at her in shock.

"You _are_ fucking around with me," he said with an incredulous expression that Isabella couldn't help but giggle at.

His acting skills were shit. She knew he wasn't as mad as he was making out.

"Are you laughing at me?" he asked as he poked a finger into her ribs.

She squeaked loudly, surprising them both.

"Peaches," Cullen whispered as a devilish look crossed his face. "Are you ticklish?" He glanced down her body, making parts of her sigh and relax.

Isabella adjusted her top and her hair as she picked up her resources to put back in her bag. "Not at all," she replied, lying through her teeth.

"Oh," he retorted. "Well, that's good because I would hate to do this," he poked her again causing her to shriek, "And it make you squeal like a girl."

"I _am_ a girl," she snapped as she pushed her stuff into her bag. Cullen laughed and handed her the remaining papers.

"You know what I mean." He poked her again for good measure and also because she was so fucking soft to touch.

"Quit it!" Isabella said in a high pitched voice as she slapped his hand away. She could feel her body heating up rapidly every time he touched her. Even though it was only the tip of his finger it felt like a bolt of lightning through her veins.

"You're so childish," she complained.

"Tell me something I don't know," Cullen replied as he stood up and rubbed the grass that was attached to his ass. He watched Peaches do the same - trying his damndest not to focus on the curve of her behind - before he picked up his jacket and shook it out. It was still warm from where she had been sitting and he made sure that, that part of the denim was touching his forearm as he carried it.

They set off at a slow walk by the side of the boating pond. It was late afternoon and the park was a bustle of people, running, walking and playing. Isabella glanced at her side to see Cullen looking back down at her. She blushed a little and smiled. The idea that he was looking at her sent a small thrill up her spine.

She needed to get a grip.

Cullen saw the tinge of pink in her cheeks and pushed his hands into his pockets as the urge to just…do _something_ shook his body once more. He thought back to the conversation he had had with Garrett and cursed himself. He was a fucking fool if he thought that he was going to be able to maintain the friendly, slightly flirty relationship that he had built up with Peaches.

He had thought about kissing her and now he wanted to…what? Hold her? Yeah, he wanted to hold her and fuck, he _didn't_ hold women. That was too intimate but dammit if she wouldn't fit fucking perfectly under his arm.

"So," he croaked in an attempt to change the tension between them. "This wasn't so bad, right?"

Isabella laughed a little and looked at the floor. "No," she replied. "It wasn't so bad."

And it was the truth. She _had_ enjoyed herself but more worryingly than that, she had enjoyed Cullen's company, almost to the point that she wanted to do it again.

_Do what again, Swan, the whole park thing? This is a session. Not a date!_

"_That_ was enthusiastic," Cullen joked with a hand through his hair.

Isabella laughed and rolled her eyes. "It was very pleasant, Mr. Cullen. You continue to amaze me with your literary intellect."

"That's more fucking like it," he replied with a mischievous grin. He glanced away as he continued, "But you know, it helps having a great teacher."

Isabella's breath caught for a moment. She found herself grasping the strap of her bag that was on her shoulder, just for something to hold onto. His voice sounded so sincere and she couldn't deny that she was flattered. But she knew it was more than that. She was fairly certain that it was the first genuine compliment that he had ever given her and she was astounded at the emotions that surged through her at that realization.

"Th-thank you," she stammered as she wrapped her arms around her chest. She cleared her throat and lifted her head high. "But if you're trying to butter me up to get more Oreos you're barking up the wrong damn tree."

She laughed uneasily at her lame attempt at brushing his praise off but was stopped by his hand holding her by the crook of her elbow.

She looked down at his hand that was soft and warm against her skin. She glanced up at him in question just as he pulled his shades from his face. When she saw his eyes she stopped breathing altogether. His eyes were the brightest green she had ever seen and they seemed to look deep into her, caressing parts of her that were suddenly aching.

"Cullen?" she whispered as he took a step towards her. She could feel the heat coming from his chest. Standing so close to him, Isabella felt very small. She craned her neck to look up at him.

"Peaches," he murmured as his gaze wandered around the planes of her face. "I…I didn't say it to…I meant it. I think you're…"

The words stuck in Cullen's throat like a fucking plug. They escaped him, leaving him mute with only his eyes to try and convey what he wanted to say to her.

_My head is fucked. I think about you all the time. I think you're amazing, beautiful, a pain in the ass. I think I want to kiss you…_

He allowed his stare to slink down to her lips and then quickly back up as he saw her lick them. _Christ._

Isabella's heart was thumping in her chest. His touch on her arm was so hot now it felt almost nuclear but it was so comforting she daren't ask him to remove it. When he had looked at her mouth she had felt it in her chest and between her legs. She had instinctively wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.

Did she want him to kiss her? Yes. No. Fuck. _I don't know what the hell I'm doing!_

"Cullen," she said again as she placed her hand on top of his. "What…? Are you ok?"

He was still staring at her in a way that made her back arch and her nipples tight and he continuously opened and closed his mouth as though he were struggling to say something but didn't know how to. Eventually he dropped his head towards his chest in defeat before bringing it back up with a muttered curse. He looked out towards the path they were on, looking for the answer to his verbal blockage and froze solid.

The grip he had on Peaches' arm increased ten-fold.

"Fucking shit," he hissed as he pulled her back in the direction they had just come from.

"Cullen!" Isabella protested as he dragged her around a corner and threw her backwards against a tree.

He loomed over her, his arms above her head, gripping the bark with his fingers that were clenched into almost claws. His face had gone a pasty white color, with the apples of his cheeks a ferocious red and his chest was lifting and dropping like a trampoline.

Isabella's anger turned quickly to concern as she watched him as he craned his neck around the tree to see whatever had spooked or angered him.

"Cullen, what's wrong?" she asked tentatively as she watched his eyes dart from left to right while trying to hide them both with the tree and his body. He shook his head but didn't answer.

"Cullen, talk to me," she urged as she placed a palm gently onto his chest.

His heart was thundering under his ribs and the rhythm felt strangely hypnotic under her touch. He finally looked down at her but words were still unreachable for him. He shook his head again.

"Who is it?" she asked as she tried to turn to see who it was he was looking at.

"My father," Cullen answered in a quiet voice that completely belied his huge frame.

Isabella blinked in surprise. _Oh_.

"I just…I don't wanna fucking see him yet. I'm not…I'm not fucking ready." Isabella jumped as his palms slammed against the bark above her head. "Goddamn it."

His breathing began to pick up again. He blew out his cheeks and leaned harder against the tree, trapping Isabella with his arms.

"Cullen," she almost squeaked. "Calm down." She rubbed her palm a little from side to side, feeling the edge of his left chest muscle against the side of her thumb.

"I wanna see him on my time, ya know? On _my_ fucking terms," Cullen's eyes were pleading with hers to understand and as much as she had no clue as to why he was reacting this way, she nodded to calm him.

"It's ok," Isabella soothed with a soft voice, keeping the motion of her hand. "You don't have to do anything you don't want."

Cullen slowly became aware of her hand on him and the fire that burned from her palm to his chest. _Holy fuck it felt good. _And considering he was just about ready to run and jump into the pond to hide, he could use all the good feelings he could get.

His relationship with his father was complicated at best. They hadn't spoken for nearly two years and their last words to each other hadn't been pretty. His father, like many around him, didn't understand the choices Cullen had made with his life. Carlisle Cullen was a self-righteous bastard and a selfish fuck to boot. Cullen hardly knew him really. Once he had become a teenager, between boarding school and juvey, they barely saw one another which suited Cullen just fine.

He took a deep breath and felt his shoulders start to relax gently.

"Are you alright?" Peaches asked him; her big, brown eyes full of concern.

Cullen continued to look down at her. Their chests were touching and his nose was just by her hairline. Her scent was perfect.

"You smell good," he whispered, ignoring her question, as he took in another lungful. "Do you know that?"

Isabella swallowed and shook her head. Her hand on his chest paused but remained attached to him.

"You do," he said as he dropped his shoulders further, bringing his face closer to hers. "You smell really fucking good."

"Th-thank you," she replied, shifting her back against the bark of the tree.

Her body was burning up, even with the breeze that had picked up around them. Her face was flushed and her palms felt sweaty. He was so close to her – so, so close - and she knew she should push him away but every time the thought entered her mind, she wanted to do the complete opposite. She wanted him closer.

She was a fucking idiot.

"What are you thinking?" Cullen asked as his hands slid down the tree until they were resting above Peaches' shoulders.

She licked her lips and let her gaze take in his beautiful face. His hair was a sexy disaster that shone auburn and bronze in the sun. The green of his irises reminded her of Granny Smith apples and the pucker of his top lip ached to be licked. As she shifted her feet nervously, she realized that her panties were drenched.

_Holy Jesus, what is this man doing to me? _

"I'm…I'm thinking that we need to…we need to get…I need to go home," she stuttered as his nose grazed her left temple.

"Do you want to go home, Peaches?" he asked in a low voice that made her ribs vibrate.

"I should," she replied in a whisper. "I need to."

Cullen moved his head back slightly and looked at her, his eyes hooded and sexy. "Can I tell you something?"

Isabella could do nothing but nod. Cullen's stare prowled down her face, coming to a dead stop at her mouth.

"I really, really, _really_ want to kiss you right now."

_Oh fuck._ "Cull-…"

"I know I shouldn't…and I don't usually kiss…but fuck, I want to." He trailed his thumb slowly across her mouth. "I want to find out what your top lip tastes like." He licked his own, "And then compare it to the bottom." He exhaled heavily as his cock twitched in his jeans. "I'm desperate to know if your tongue tastes of peaches."

Isabella's eyes fluttered at his words. "We…I…please," she murmured. "Don't." The word slipped from her softly but it made her stomach clench all the same. She was amazed she had the energy to utter the one syllable at all.

With his eyes still trained on the shit hot bee sting mouth before him Cullen asked, "Would it be so bad?"

He leaned in closer, his breath washing over Isabella's face like a lusty fog.

Everything in Isabella's body was surging towards the gorgeous man in front of her. Her pussy purred, her pupils dilated and her heart was beating so fast she was glad they weren't far from the ER. But she knew that they were about to cross a line: A huge fuck-off line that had her career written all over it. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

_But why do I feel so good?_

"Cullen," she whispered again, in one last ditch attempt to stop what she knew in her heart was inevitable. She had to at least _try_ and fight it, right? "We can't do this."

"I know," he answered, cupping the side of her face while tilting his head. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Peaches."

He moved closer. "Just one taste," he whispered, "Just one. That's all I want."

And then it happened.

Isabella's eyes closed as his lips touched hers. _Oh. My. God._

She remained frozen as their mouths connected. She could feel his palm on her cheek and his nose against hers. The breath that was coming down it was long and steady as though he was in a trance, which wasn't far from the truth.

Cullen couldn't believe how soft she felt. Her mouth was fucking perfect and tasted even better. More like whipped cream than peaches. He smiled inwardly. What a perfect combination. After a moment he opened his own mouth to see if she would respond. Fucking Christ, he wanted her to. She did. Oh so slightly, but he could feel her breath push into him. He couldn't help the sigh that came from him as her sweetness swilled around his mouth.

Their lips moved together, so slowly, gently, and tentatively. But Cullen wanted more.

He cupped the other side of her face - denim jacket forgotten on the floor - and pressed his lips harder to hers. His hips moved forward of their own volition and he hissed as his cock found her soft stomach through his jeans. His mouth opened wider as it twitched in pleasure and he groaned. He'd never been so fucking hard. _My God_, it almost hurt. He wanted to feel more of her. He wanted her to touch him.

Isabella on the other hand was a mess.

She was kissing her student: Her beautiful, lost, broken, angry student who had tickled her and bought her a Popsicle. Who had told her he thought she was great and had given her a precious gift for her birthday. A man who was so full of paradoxes it made her head spin. A man who she had met on prison. This is wrong…

_But fuck me he can kiss._

Isabella knew. She knew that it was fucking stupid. She had promised. She had promised that she _wouldn't_ be stupid and here she was. Here she was with…oh my God his tongue in her mouth. His taste. His dark, rich taste with a hint of smoke and raspberries. It was sublime. It was as though she had been searching for it her entire life and now that she had found it she didn't want to let it go. Her nipples tightened against her wife beater and her clit pulsed with desire but neither could erase the feeling of panic that was starting to rise up the back of her throat.

_Oh Jesus, what am I doing?_ _This can't happen._

She placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed gently. "Please," she muttered against his lips. _Help me, Cullen. Help me stop this._

"Peaches," he moaned, taking her hand and words in the wrong way. He kissed her harder, plunging his tongue further into her mouth and his hips deeper into her stomach. _Oh Jesus, she _does_ taste like peaches_. More. _More._

Isabella shook her head making their lips slide against one another. He was so hard against her. "Please stop."

But the words didn't reach Cullen's ears. He was too far gone. He had his Peaches where he wanted her and he couldn't let go. The feelings that were pulsing through his body were like nothing he had ever experienced. It was like taking a drug for the first time: A wave of euphoria and calm that crashed over and over.

"Please, I can't," Isabella said again, pushing a little harder. "Stop, Cullen." 

Her words finally met his ears. "What?" he asked through his daze, his lips barely stopping.

"Stop," she pushed again and he moved back but not far enough. "I said fucking stop!"

She pushed harder and this time he stumbled back. _Fuck_, she was strong for someone so tiny. Cullen stared at her in confusion taking in her red lips, before she covered them with her hand, and her wide eyes that were…holy fuck is she crying?

She was. She didn't mean to and she didn't mean to yell at him but Christ, what they were doing was so fucked up! She rubbed her eyes with the tips of her fingers and sniffed. Cullen's heart dropped to the soles of his shoes.

"Peaches," he murmured. He took a step towards her but stopped when she held up her hand, "I…what the…? I…fuck did I hurt you?" He didn't know what the hell he would do if she said yes.

She shook her head. "No," she croaked. "You didn't hurt me."

_Thank fuck…_

"Then what?" Cullen asked in relief.

He risked taking another step towards her and breathed when she didn't stop him. The urge to be near her, now that he had tasted her, was so strong he was finding it hard standing in one place.

Isabella took a deep shaky breath. "We just did something…I can't believe…" She looked up at him. "Do you realize what could happen if people knew what we just did?"

Yeah, he did know, but right then he couldn't have given a flying fuck. Selfish bastard? Yep.

"Peaches," he said holding out a hand which she didn't take but simply stared at. "It's ok."

Her head snapped up. "What?" she exclaimed. "Ok? There is nothing ok about this, Cullen. Fuck's sake! I am your _teacher_!"

"Don't yell at me," he fumed through gritted teeth, feeling his temper rise. "I know _exactly_ what you are. I also know that you liked the shit that we just did just as much as I did."

"Regardless," Isabella retorted quickly as she pulled her bag up her shoulder. "It can't happen again. It _won't_ happen again."

The slash of hurt that whipped across Cullen's chest took his breath away. But - as usual - instead of showing his pain he covered it with anger.

"What the fuck ever, Peaches, like I give a shit if it happens again."

Her eyes met his and he immediately saw the hurt. _Fuck._

_I'm a fucking tool._ He swallowed down his pride as best he could. "Peaches, I…shit, I…" He trailed off feeling that somehow sorry wasn't nearly enough to fix the moment.

"I'm going home," she muttered softly. Cullen couldn't help but notice how tired and small she looked. He was almost desperate with the need to look after her and make it better.

She started to turn from him and he took another step towards her.

"Don't," she almost begged as she closed her eyes. "Just…don't." She inhaled and let her shoulders slump. "Cullen, I'm sorry that I…I didn't mean to lead you on. The kiss was…"-_Incredible-_ "I just" _–Want more-_ "I need to go home. I'll see you on Monday."

She kept her eyes on his for a beat, waiting for him to say no - which he didn't - before she dropped her head back to her chest.

Cullen stood and watched her walk away from him feeling utterly empty and wondering what the fuck he could do to make it right.

**Holy first kiss in the park, Batman!  
**

**I hope it was what you expected from our fave couple.**

**Please be forgiving of Peaches. She has a lot more to lose than Cullen does. Remember slow burn, people.**

**Slow burn!**

**I would love your vote for 'Best Written FFn of the year so far' at the A/H Twilight Awards www(.)allhumantwilightawards(.)webs(.)coms – If ya don't wanna vote for me vote for your fave!**

**Leave me love…or hate.**

**TTFN xxx**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hello, you kissing and grinding against the tree lovers! **

**Wow! The reaction to the kiss was immense – Thank you!**

**Love to all my PAW Princesses on Twitter. I cannot believe how many wonderful people I have met through writing this story. Thankyou, Girls. Your love for PAW makes me all gooey inside.**

**UST: 4 (sorry, but I promise it will get higher in the coming chapters!)**

**Twilight ain't mine but PAW belongs to me. Don't take him or Peaches or I'll send the Princesses around!**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 19: Blurred Lines**

_The heart seldom feels what the mouth expresses_. ~ **Jean Galoert de Campistron**

15 years and 49 weeks ago...

_Isabella kneeled in her airplane seat gazing out of the window at the white fluffy clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see. She narrowed hers in an attempt to see where they ended, but failed when all she could see was the crystal clear, blue sky._

_The sun was bright and high and caught the tops of the clouds, causing parts of them to turn pink. Isabella smiled to herself, imagining that the clouds were actually made of cotton candy and that - were she to jump out of the plane window - she would land on the soft stickiness before munching her way through as much as she could fit into her nine year old belly._

_Mommy wouldn't be happy. It would spoil dinner, she'd say._

_Daddy, on the other hand, would probably follow her and eat his fill too. She laughed to herself as she thought of her daddy with pink candy stuck in his moustache. He was so silly sometimes._

_Her small index finger was tracing the outline of the ice cluster that had formed in the corner of the plane window when she heard her father's voice at her ear._

"_Whatcha laughing at, Bells?"_

_She scrunched her shoulder up to the right side of her face as his breath tickled her cheek. He smelled of coffee and mints. She looked at him to see him smiling gently back at her. The corners of his eyes had crinkled into lines that only came from smiling a lot. Isabella shrugged._

"_Nothin'," she answered. "I was just thinkin'." She turned back to the window and the ice that had begun to sparkle like diamonds as the sun caught it._

_She heard her father hum and sigh softly. He shifted in his seat as he placed the papers he had been reading onto the small table in front of him and shuffled closer to Isabella until he was right behind her: his chin resting on her tiny shoulder and his hand on her waist._

_Even the smallest contact with him made Isabella feel safe. For Charles Swan, the contact reminded him how lucky he was to have someone as precious as Isabella in his life._

"_Wow," he breathed as he looked out of the window. "Those clouds are beautiful."_

"_Yeah," Isabella replied. "They look like they go on forever and ever."_

"_All the way to heaven," Charles added quietly._

_Isabella turned her head so that her nose was almost touching his cheek. "Really?" she asked with wide eyes._

_Charles nodded. "Really," he replied. "Only heaven would have clouds so perfect."_

_Isabella gazed back out of the window, wondering how close to heaven they really were. "Is Grandma in heaven?" she asked, referring to Charles's mother who had passed on when Isabella was still very small._

_Charles swallowed a large lump of emotion and nodded again. "She's probably running the place," he answered with a small breath of laughter._

_Isabella smiled. "Do you think she can see us?"_

_Charles kept his eyes on the window along with the tears of hope that pricked them. "I'm sure she can."_

_Isabella lowered her voice to an almost whisper. "Shall we wave?"_

_Charles's hold on his daughter tightened. He looked at her and kissed the tip of her nose. "She would love that, Bells. Go ahead."_

_He watched with a heart full of love and a soul full of regret as his daughter waved with the tips of her fingers in the hopes that her grandmother – who Charles knew would have doted on her grandchild – could see._

_It was one of the most poignant moments of his life._

"_Will I go to heaven, Daddy?" Isabella asked as her hand slowed and dropped back to tracing the ice on the plastic of the window._

_Charles felt his insides clench at her words. The sheer thought of anything or anybody taking his precious beauty away petrified him. He looked at her innocent face and exhaled the breath that had caught in his throat. He sat back in his seat, pulling Isabella with him. He tucked her head under his chin and held her._

"_Why do you ask that, Bells?" _

_Isabella fingered the blue swirl that was embroidered down her father's silk tie and pursed her lips in thought. "I was just wondering," she answered in a small voice._

_Charles leaned down and pulled in a lungful of the scent in her hair. "Well, baby," he said as he rubbed his palm soothingly down her back. "It won't be for a very, very, _very_ long time, but I'm 100% positive that you will go to heaven. You are far too beautiful and special not to. You'd be a perfect angel."_

_Isabella smiled to herself and snuggled closer into her father's chest. "Will you go there too?"_

_Charles laughed a little and lifted his eyebrows in a way that suggested he didn't think so for one moment. "I don't know, Bells. I hope so."_

"_You will," his daughter stated into the lapel of his jacket with no hint of doubt in her voice. "You're too special not to. We would be angels together."_

_Charles dropped his cheek onto the top of Isabella's head and closed his eyes. It was a moment that he wanted to bottle and save for the rest of his life._

"_I love you, Daddy," Isabella said with a small yawn._

_Charles smiled and pulled her tight to his chest. "I love you," he whispered._

Since her father's death almost sixteen years before, Isabella had wished numerous times for the opportunity to see or speak to her father just one more time. The emptiness that triggered the need for him was constantly there: every day, becoming more prominent during special occasions or on the anniversary of his death.

With the anniversary only three weeks away, Isabella knew that her grief and emptiness would be a lot closer to the surface than a normal, average day. She had tried to prepare herself for it in any way that she could, even if she knew that - no matter what - the sorrow would still feel as raw as it always did.

However, Isabella was definitely not prepared for the tsunami of pain that crashed over her, as she drove home from Central Park, after walking away from a man who had kissed in such a way that it had made her spine tingle. The hurt was almost crippling and, when she finally staggered back into her apartment building and into the elevator, her entire body buckled in the middle as she gasped for breath.

It had never been this bad. _Never. _And Heaven and Daddy suddenly felt even further away from her.

She gripped the bar that was situated at her back with sweating palms and breathed deeply, in through her nose and out through her mouth, while keeping her eyes on the red digits above her head that indicated the floors that the elevator passed.

The doors slid open and Isabella found herself moving sluggishly down the hall towards her apartment. Her mind seemed lost in a fog of utter perplexity while her body continued to function as normally as her breathlessness and aching chest would allow.

She threw her door open, slammed it shut and slumped against it, dropping her bag and keys to the floor as she did. She suddenly felt much heavier than her normal one hundred and ten pounds and her knees shook beneath her.

She clutched her chest and continued to suck in as many laboured breaths as she could.

_Anxiety. Panic. Meds._

Apparently the survival part of her brain was still working.

She staggered through the apartment towards the bathroom and towards the cabinet that hid all of her troubles. Isabella couldn't remember the last time she had taken her anxiety pills which must have been some kind of record; the fact that she was about to break that very thing, filled her entire body with an anger so fierce it brought tears to her eyes.

She avoided her reflection, terrified of what or who she would see staring back at her, and pulled the non-descript medicine bottle from off the second shelf. Not even pausing to think about it, she opened the lid allowing one white pill to fall into her palm.

She stared at it.

Isabella couldn't help but believe that it was goading and taunting her and her inability to not buckle under the slightest of pressures.

She was weak and pathetic and, after today, royally fucked up.

She needed to feel numb.

Isabella threw the pill into her mouth, followed by a large handful of cold water, and closed her eyes while she swallowed. The pill felt almost too big for her to take and it took several seconds before she felt it slide down into her body. As she gasped for air, the ache inside of her twisted and scratched at the underside of her skin, making her bend over at the waist in a futile attempt to ease it.

Her heart was slamming in her chest; just as it had been since her lips had touched his. She daren't think his name. The guilt, fear and confusion were just too much to take without adding _that_ into the mix.

What the _hell_ had they been thinking? What the hell had _she_ been thinking?

She clapped her hands to her face and moaned in frustration and utter hopelessness. Her cheeks were wet from the angry tears but she couldn't allow herself to cry. This whole situation was _her_ doing, _her_ fault, and _she_ had to deal with it.

She coughed out a sardonic laugh at _that_ particular thought.

_Deal with it?_ She'd just taken a pill to help ease the anxiety. She couldn't _deal_ with shit.

"Idiot. Idiot. _Fucking_ idiot," she muttered angrily into her palms as she rubbed them hard down her face.

When her hand reached her chin, her finger tips lingered on her lips for a moment as the memory of his mouth and the taste of it, flashed through her brain. _Jesus Christ, he had tasted so good!_ His lips had been soft and attentive. Nothing like she had expected. He had kissed both of her lips as he had promised, almost savouring her.

The heat in her body immediately shot downwards, gathering between her legs, making her pussy pulse with want. Her stomach clenched in a mixture of desire and intense guilt. She had_ no_ right to desire him. She had come to terms with the fact that she had a crush on him – of course, he was beautiful on the outside - but this was _way_ beyond that. The more time she spent with him, the more she saw the shards of beauty that were scattered within him.

His hands against her face had been so gentle, as though he was scared she would shatter under his touch.

That fear, ironically, wasn't without substance. She _had_ shattered. She was in pieces because of _him_.

The emotions that were coursing through her veins were foreign and terrifying, not least because she knew without doubt that she wanted his lips on hers again.

Not allowing herself to think about what would happen the next time she saw him, Isabella made her way to her bed and crawled into the centre of it; curling into a ball while hoping that the meds would work quickly enough for her to disappear for a few hours into sleep.

=PoF=

Cullen's entire apartment shook as he slammed the door shut behind him. He launched his keys and jacket against the wall and threw his hands through his hair, keeping them there; scrunching at his roots, as he leaned heavily against the breakfast bar of his loft.

_What. The. Fuck?_

He had no clue what the hell had happened. All he knew was that his chest felt like it had been trampled on by a herd of fucking horses and he had been struggling to breathe properly since Peaches had walked away from him. _She had walked away_. _Christ that had hurt._

Cullen had never experienced a feeling like it and it had caught him completely off guard. Watching her walk away, when every inch of his body told him to follow, was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. He wanted to try and explain. _What _exactly, he wasn't sure about himself, but at least he could maybe even...apologise?

After an hour of trying to figure it out, however, he still wasn't entirely convinced that he had anything to apologise for.

_Hadn't she felt what he had? Hadn't she reciprocated?_

When Cullen had put his mouth to Peaches', he had lost himself in her taste, smell and softness. She felt so good pressed against him and yet, he could do nothing but touch her as though she would fracture under his finger tips. He had never kissed a woman that way before. He had surprised himself at his own tenderness. The hunger for her, that resided deep within him, was fucking desperate to take her frantic and hard against the tree, but the moment they touched he knew there was no way that he could do that to her.

He beat the hunger back and touched her as gently as he could. _Fuck she had felt so good._ He moaned as his cock agreed wholeheartedly by becoming rock solid at the memory.

He exhaled heavily and dropped his arms to his sides. He had fucked up. He shouldn't have kissed her. Peaches had even told him not to. 'Don't,' she had said, but he had done it regardless. He just didn't have the fight left in him anymore and he had said so.

He had thought about nothing but kissing her and what it would feel like from the minute he had looked at her lips on the day they had stood on the library steps. He was a tenacious motherfucker and, like he had explained, he just wanted one taste. He laughed with a breath down his nose. _One_ taste? What the fuck ever, Cullen.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it quickly.

He knew that, now he had experienced the feel of Peaches on his lips, he had to have it again. And he knew that, that was an impossibility, just as she had told him. Nevertheless, Cullen couldn't help but suspect that her determined promise, that it wouldn't or couldn't happen again, was a carefully constructed front that hid her own desires for him. She had kissed him back for fuck's sake. She wanted it too. Didn't she?

The touches and flirty banter between them had down nothing but escalate since their first meeting, driving Cullen fucking crazy. The more they saw of each other, while he was inside, the more he had wanted to fuck her hard on every surface imaginable and make her scream his name. His cock twitched, giving its vote on the idea.

Now, after today, he would happily settle for just one more, gentle kiss.

He rubbed his brow at the realisation that the situation just wasn't on their side.

Cullen wasn't a _complete _asshole, he understood that she had a lot more to lose than he did and that, should their kiss be found out, she could be in a whole heap of shit.

He understood it. But he didn't have to fucking like it. He sucked on his cigarette as his temper and selfish side started to rise up his body.

How could she tell him that it _wouldn't_ happen again? Who the _fuck_ did she think she was? Yes, she was his teacher, but that didn't give her the right to make decisions concerning him. Didn't he have a fucking say about the entire thing?

He thought back to what he _had_ said to her.

'_What the fuck ever, Peaches, like I give a shit if it happens again.'_

He stamped out his smoke muttering about how much of a lying son of a bitch he was.

But the fact was her words had hurt. He had been hurt before, by many people in his life, but Peaches seemed to know how to cut him to the quick. He wasn't so much of a dick that he couldn't admit that shit and he didn't care if it made him a pussy either. She had hurt him and he was pissed with her.

He was pissed with the situation and he was pissed that he had no idea what the hell he was going to say to her when they met on Monday. _Maybe he wouldn't even turn up?_

He glanced at the clock as he felt a bitch of a headache start in his temples. It was just before five and he needed something to help him chill out and cut loose. He needed to stop thinking about Miss Swan with her soft lips and peach flavored tongue. _Fuck._

He pulled out his cell and found his contacts list. The line rang three times before it was answered.

"Yo, Cullen! How was your date, I mean session?" Jake smiled down the phone.

"Fuck you," Cullen snarled back as he walked towards his bedroom. He toed off his boots and kicked them into the corner.

"Whoa, whoa, such hostility! I take it, it didn't go well?"

Cullen pulled his t-shirt over his head by pulling at the neck of it and dropped down onto the corner of his bed.

"Like you give a shit," he bit back. "Look, what have you got planned for tonight?"

"Not much. Why, you thinkin' of something?"

Cullen ran a hand through his hair. "I need to get shitfaced and quick. Where can we go?"

Jacob laughed lightly into the phone. "I know just the place my man. Come to the body shop in an hour."

Cullen began unfastening his jeans as he walked towards the bathroom. "I'll be there in thirty."

=PoF=

_"Keep moving!" the stranger hissed from under his cap and hood. "We have to get away from them. They'll kill your ass! Move!"_

_"I can't," Isabella sobbed. "My Dad…"_

_The stranger didn't stop to listen. Gunfire filled the air. Isabella screamed. She began running but was wrestled to the floor. He was heavy on top of her back and smelled of cigarettes and musk._

_The sidewalk was so cold._

_"Stay here," he breathed heavily into her hair as she wriggled beneath him. "You can't go back dammit. He told you to run for Christ's sake."_

Isabella shot up from her bed, breathless and hoarse from the scream that died slowly in her throat. Her face was wet, as were her clothes, from the sweat that had been pouring from her.

She situated herself with a groan against the headboard, taking in a huge lungful of air when she realised with relief that she was in her bed and not on a Bronx sidewalk hearing her father die. It had been a while since she had had such a dream, yet the effects of it were just the same. Opening her eyes slowly, she looked at the clock to see that she had been asleep for a little over an hour.

With a head that felt like it was filled with cotton balls she lifted herself heavily from her bed and made her way to the shower, knowing that the heat of the water would relax the muscles in her neck and back that were still tense with fear.

##

Isabella was wrapping a towel around her body when she heard her cell phone ringing from the depths of her bag by the front door. Hurriedly, she made her way over, throwing the papers to the side as she hunted for the elusive contraption. When she found it and saw who was calling her heart jumped from her chest to her throat. _Shit._

She paused for a second before she closed her eyes and answered. "Hello."

"Oh hey, Isabella, I thought for a second it was going to send me to voicemail." Peter's voice, as always, sounded like he was bearing a huge smile, but unlike every other time he had called, Isabella didn't echo it.

"Yeah, sorry, Peter. I was just getting out of the shower."

Peter swallowed as a salacious image of Isabella's dripping wet body shot behind his eyelids. That shit would definitely last him until the end of the day. _Damn._

"No, its fine," he replied with a small cough that cleared his throat. "I was just calling to see if you were still available for tonight?"

Isabella's breath held in her throat as she rubbed her forehead. She was meant to be meeting him for drinks after he had dropped Henry back at his ex-wife's house.

How the hell could she possibly do that after what had happened today?

She was a mess and, even though she and Peter were not exclusive, there was no way she would be able to look him in the eye knowing that she had kissed another man. Her _student_.

_Her beautiful student._

"Um," Isabella began, as unexpected tears sprang behind her closed lids. "I'm so sorry to do this to you, Peter, but can I take a rain check?"

Peter put down the toy that Henry had handed him not five minutes before, feeling the disappointment at Isabella's words creep down his neck, "Um, sure," he replied in as upbeat a tone as he could muster. "That's fine. Are you ok?"

_No, I'm very fucking far from ok..._

"Yeah, yeah," Isabella answered instead. "I think I'm coming down with a cold and I think an early night might help." _And now she was a liar_.

"I could bring you something?" Peter offered. "Henry likes soup when he has a cold."

Isabella felt two tears sneak down her cheeks. She brushed them away angrily, knowing in her heart that she had no business crying over a situation _she_ had caused.

"No, I'm good," she croaked. "But thank you very much for the offer."

Peter sighed. "No problem. You'll let me know if you do need anything, won't you?" he asked.

Isabella sniffed quietly. "Yes, of course. Thank you and I'm sorry again."

Peter tried to laugh off the twinge of hurt that was in his chest. "Hey, don't worry about. Just get better, ok? We'll arrange something for during the week or next weekend if you like?"

"Um, sure," Isabella replied as she shook her head in revulsion at herself.

"Ok," Peter said softly, noticing the sadness in Isabella's voice. "Isabella, please call me if you need anything."

"I will. Bye Peter."

"Goodbye Isabella."

She ended the call and slumped heavily against the wall with her knees up at her chest. The tears came freely. There was no stopping them. The desperate confusion, frustration and anger at herself were simply too much. She made no noise. Isabella didn't cough or hiccup through her tears, she simply let them fall in the hopes that she would know what the hell to do once they ran dry.

=PoF=

"So, what the fuck, man?" Jake asked as he blew smoke down his nose. "What was with the attitude when you called?"

Cullen didn't answer. He simply took a huge mouthful from the bottle of Corona that was in his hand while looking out across the street from the bar they were seated outside of. Jake rolled his eyes as he took in the anger that was making his friend's jaw clench and strain.

"Cullen," he called, kicking the leg of his chair in an attempt to get his attention.

"What?" Cullen yelled in response at the same time that he slammed his bottle of beer onto the table between them.

"What do you mean what?" Jake replied, unafraid of the fire in Cullen's eyes. "You've looked like you're ready to pop a cap in a fucker since you came to the shop and you've hardly said two fucking words to me in the hour we've been here, so I ask again: what the fuck is up?"

Cullen kept his stare on Jake before he dropped his eyes to the table and grabbed the packet of cigarettes that were lying there. He sparked it and sucked on it as hard as he could. _Lungs be damned._

"It's nothing," he answered as he sat back and rubbed his eyebrow with his finger. He saw Jake narrow his eyes in annoyance and sighed. "A complication," he added in hopes of placating him.

"Yuh huh," Jake muttered as he picked up his own beer. "And this 'complication' wouldn't happen to be a five four brunette with a hot ass, would it?"

Jake had known Cullen a lot of years and he had been aware of his less than normal behaviour for a few days. He had been a lot more agreeable just recently, even smiling a little more. Dude was definitely getting some.

Cullen's teeth made a loud snapping sound as he clenched his jaw at Jake's words. Jake smiled knowingly. _Bingo._

"Ah," he mused as he slid lower into his seat. "So it _is_ the teacher."

"Jake," Cullen growled as he closed his eyes slowly. He opened them after taking a deep breath and gave Jake a levelled stare. "I'm not asking, I'm telling. Leave it alone."

Jake stared back, debating internally whether it was worth pushing him even further. The glint in Cullen's eye suggested not.

"Whatever, man," he said as he picked up his own beer. "I thought we were gonna have a good fucking time?"

"We have beer and smokes," Cullen replied dryly. "What's not fun about that?"

Jake sneered and finished his Corona. Cullen watched his friend and the look of boredom that crossed his face and realised what a fucking party pooper he was being. Just because _he_ was feeling like shit, didn't mean he had to make Jake feel the same. He sighed and sat forward.

"I'm sorry, man," he muttered towards his shoes. "It's been a shit day and my head is fucked up and…I'm sorry I'm being…"

"A moody bitch," Jake finished with a small smile which Cullen mirrored.

"Yeah," he replied with a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry for being a moody bitch."

Jake nodded and tipped the neck of the beer in Cullen's direction. "Apology accepted."

Cullen nodded back and took his beer in his hand as Jake rose from his chair to go to the bathroom.

Cullen tried for as long as he could to keep his mind from Peaches, but she kept crawling back into the depths of his brain with annoying regularity. Why the hell he couldn't just relax and think about something else was beyond him. It seemed that every brunette he saw walking down the street made him think of her and the kiss that they had shared and the words they had said to each other.

He remembered how she had looked so fucking hurt when he had snapped at her. Her eyes had widened as the flame, that normally burned so bright in her irises, dimmed as though he himself had blown the fucker out. He didn't like it one bit, least of all because he was the prick that caused it.

When the _hell_ did he begin to care so fucking much?

He did care. Didn't he? Yes. He did.

Jake coming back with two more beers and two whiskey chasers brought his mind back. "Enjoy," he said with a palm gesturing to the drinks.

"Much appreciated," Cullen replied as he knocked back the whiskey in one gulp. Dammit all to hell that shit burned. Surely alcohol would numb the dull ache that was still present inside of him?

"Siobhan called while I was in the john," Jake mumbled around his cigarette, "Wants us to meet her and a few of her friends at a place a few blocks from here." He sipped from his beer. "You wanna go? Your little friend Emily will be there." He wiggled his eyebrows to which Cullen rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on, Cullen," Jake urged with a playful clap of his hands. "You know what they say."

"No," Cullen answered with a shake of his head. "What do they say?"

Jake laughed. "The best way to get over a bitch is to get under one."

Cullen exhaled hard down his nose, willing himself not to jump to Peaches defence. He had to remind himself that Jake was just being Jake. His views on women, after everything he had been through, were distorted at best. He was Cullen's best friend and he was trying to cheer him up in his own way. With that thought in mind, Cullen downed the rest of his beer and slammed the empty bottle onto the table.

"Let's go," he muttered as he stood quickly, scrapping the metal chair along the sidewalk.

"Well alright," Jake replied with a smile. "We can grab a cab."

Within ten minutes they had done just that and were pulling up in front of a club that Cullen hadn't been to in years. The building was the same, but the name and ownership had apparently changed. Even standing outside, Cullen could hear the beats of the R n B tunes that were thumping through the walls. Jake led the way through the waiting line speaking briefly, to a large guy on the door who ushered the two of them in without question.

The place was teeming with bodies, even with it being before nine on a Saturday night and the music was so loud that Cullen could feel it behind his ribs. He looked around himself at the gyrating women and the lack of clothes that they had on. Midriffs, legs, tits and asses were in plentiful supply. Yeah, maybe this was one of Jake's better ideas.

They manoeuvred their way through the throngs of people towards the bar where Jake ordered drinks with a wide smile and a wink at the blond server. She flushed red, fluffed her hair and hurried the order. Cullen shook his head at Jake's satisfied smirk and leaned backwards against the bar, resting his weight on his elbows. Women were all over the damn place and many of them had their eyes attached to Cullen and Jake as they stood with their half price drinks and brooding faces.

Many of the women were in awe of the two beautiful, muscular, tattooed men who seemed unconcerned by the attention they were garnering. They looked dangerous and arrogant and for the majority of the crowd, that was just what they were looking for. A quick fuck with either of them would be a welcome occasion for the girls that stared.

"Jesus," Cullen mumbled as he watched two girls grind to the floor as old school R Kelly busted from the speakers.

Jake laughed at the side of him "Makes you glad to be male and free, right?" he asked as he nudged Cullen's elbow.

Cullen nodded and smiled to be agreeable, but the truth was, seeing the girls bump and grind did nothing but make him think about Peaches and what she was doing at that moment. Maybe she was out somewhere doing just that while men drooled the fuck all over her? _Shit._ He fingered the edge of his cell in his jeans pocket, wondering if he should text her to find out.

He scoffed into the neck of his drink. Why the fuck would he do that? He had no claim over her – as much as he wanted one. She had told him that it wouldn't happen again and then she had walked way from him. _Case closed_. Besides, that definitely wasn't why she had given him her cell number. What the hell would he say anyway? To call would just be fucking stupid. Much like the kiss they had had.

He rubbed his face in frustration. His train of thought tonight seemed to be headed in only one way.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in."

Siobhan's purr was close enough to Cullen's ear that it made him jump a little.

"Wow, Cullen. You seem a little on edge tonight," she smiled at him and winked. Yeah, she was sexy.

"I just have to watch myself with you," Cullen retorted with a replying wink as he sipped his drink. He allowed his slightly mellowed gaze to wander over her.

Siobhan smiled before moving towards Jake which allowed Cullen to relax. He and Siobhan had been there and done that – numerous times – and as hot as she was, regardless of whether Jake was on that shit, Cullen couldn't imagine going there again. He wouldn't allow himself to wonder why.

"Hey stranger."

Cullen turned to see a familiar face standing next to him, wearing a black and red dress that made his mouth dry. Emily was an extremely attractive woman - Cullen couldn't deny it - and the girl could suck a cock. He just hoped that she wasn't looking for a reciprocal offer tonight. He just wanted to get wasted and forget.

"Hi," he replied with a smile. "You look well. How are you?"

Emily pushed her hands down her dress and smiled as she tucked her blonde hair behind her ears. "I'm good. You're looking pretty great yourself."

That was a freaking understatement she thought to herself. The man's v-neck white t-shirt, under his red and blue plaid shirt was so understatedly sexy, she was barely coherent. Along with his dark blue jeans and boots, he was sex incarnate. She was just thankful that she had experienced what joys lay beneath his clothes. She was definitely interested in round two.

"Can I get you a drink?" Cullen asked being as polite as he could be. When he saw the way that her gaze travelled up and down his body and the light that shone in them at his words, however, he wished he hadn't. _Shit._

"Sure," she replied. She placed her hand on his shoulder as she reached up to tell him that she wanted a Gin and Tonic. He looked at her hand with a frown before looking back at Emily's face. _He wasn't in a touching mood. _She seemed surprised by his reaction but removed her palm from him anyway.

Cullen sighed and turned to the bar, hopelessly aware of her body being close to his. His cock was also aware of this, even if he had no intention of using it_. Fucking traitor cock_. He bought Emily her drink and handed it to her with a slight smile. He couldn't be a complete fucker with her, he knew.

"Thank you," she said with a grin as she placed her lips suggestively around the small black straw.

Cullen knocked back the two shots or tequila that he had bought himself and nodded.

"Yeah," he answered as his cock twitched and his fingers found the edge of his cell phone once more.

=PoF=

Isabella had finally lifted herself from off of the floor after a good hour of tears. Unfortunately for her, there was no light at the end of them, no clear answer to how the hell she was to sort out the shit that she had caused.

She had pulled on a pair of sweats, a hoodie and had put on the DVD of '_School of Rock'_ for some light Jack Black entertainment, when there was a light knock at the door. She glanced at the clock, wondering who the hell would turn up at her door at past ten on a Saturday night.

Her heart thumped in her chest when she looked through the peep hole of her apartment door. She slowly unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open, leaning on it with her hip. She stayed silent for a moment, not knowing what to say.

"Can I come in?" Alice asked in a quiet but firm voice.

"Sure," Isabella answered as she stood back to allow her to enter.

Alice stepped in and stood awkwardly as Isabella shut the door behind her. She couldn't help but notice that Isabella looked like shit. Her eyes were puffy and her face held so many lines, she looked at least ten years older. Alice was aware that it was near the anniversary of Charles Swan's passing, but the look on his daughter's face told Alice that there was more to her pain than one might first assume.

"Can I get you a drink?" Isabella said as she tucked her air dried hair behind her ears.

"Sure," Alice replied with a small nod.

Isabella shuffled to the kitchen without looking at her friend. Alice had always been perceptive and Isabella knew that that was the last thing she needed right now. She was too tired and brain fucke to deal with a goddamn lecture.

"Tea, coffee, juice," she listed as she opened up cupboards in her kitchen.

"Juice is fine," Alice replied as she shrug off her coat and placed her bag on the floor.

Once Isabella had poured Alice's drink and had handed it to her, she walked, without a word, back towards the sofa and sat cross legged; hoodie tucked over her knees. Alice followed slowly and sat at the far end of the couch, sipping her drink with her eyes trained on the broken girl before her. Alice had no idea why, but her entire chest hurt. She felt an emptiness and a twist of something else that made her tongue taste funny. It was bitter and sour and entirely unwanted.

Isabella placed the TV on pause as Jack Black started singing about straight A's and turned to her friend, ready for the onslaught that she just knew was coming.

"How are you?" Isabella asked courteously.

Alice gave a small smile at the effort her friend was making. She felt quite ashamed that she had been neglecting Isabella recently, but the truth was, was that she hadn't been sure how to deal with seeing her after what Jasper had told her about his connection to Isabella's student, Cullen: his cousin and _her_ cousin by marriage.

Alice knew that Isabella cared for her student more than any teacher should and that had certainly put a fucking huge spanner in the works for her _get-Isabella-and-Peter-together_-plan. It was a messy situation for certain and she had told her husband and brother-in-law just that.

"I'm ok," Alice replied as she placed her glass on a coaster on the coffee table. "How are you?"

Isabella crossed her arms over her chest and the bitter taste in Alice's mouth grew stronger.

"I'm fine," Isabella replied. "I'm tired."

Alice nodded and clasped her hands in her lap. "Peter said that you weren't feeling well. That's why I came to see if I could do anything for you."

Isabella ran her hands down her face and sighed. "I don't need anything. I'm good."

Isabella didn't mean to sound ungrateful, but the truth was, it annoyed her that Alice hadn't been near or communicative for ages. The one day that Isabella just wanted to be on her own and here she was, looking at her with so much sympathy in her eyes it made Isabella's stomach turn.

"Why are you _really_ here, Alice?" she asked as firmly as she could while keeping the rest of her frayed emotions in check. "I haven't heard from you in nearly two weeks. You haven't replied to any of my texts or my voicemails and now here you are, as though we spoke yesterday."

"I know," Alice conceded as she dropped her chin to her chest. "I've been busy and there has been some family stuff that Jasper has been dealing with." It was as close to the truth as Alice could go after promising Peter that she would allow him to tell Isabella the link between himself and Edward Cullen. It was his and Jasper's story to tell and she had to respect that.

"And you couldn't text me to tell me that?" Isabella asked with a sarcastic tone.

"I could have," Alice replied. "But I didn't."

Isabella blinked at her friend's bluntness. "Have I done something to upset you?" she asked with concern.

Alice smiled and shuffled closer to Isabella on the sofa. "Of course not, Isabella," she soothed with a hand on her Isabella's knee. "You could never do anything to upset me. It's my fault and I apologise for being a crappy friend."

Isabella stared at Alice for a beat, wondering what it was that she wasn't being told before taking a deep breath.

"It's ok," she said softly. "I'm sorry I snapped. I've just had a-…" She looked up at Alice, looking for the right words. "It's been a shitty day."

"Yeah, I can tell," Alice replied, rubbing her palm over her sternum where the emptiness resided. "You wanna talk about it?"

Isabella barked out a laugh and shook her head while making a mumbled noise of words that made no sense. She ran her hands through her hair.

"Not really," she answered, feeling her throat close up again. "I'm just…I'm just a stupid, stupid fucking idiot," she muttered quietly, almost too low for Alice to hear. _Almost._

Alice sat back a little in her seat as she started to understand the feelings she was having while sitting next to Isabella. _Cullen._ "Bells, what happened?" She took a deep breath before asking, "Did he hurt you?"

Isabella's head snapped up, her eyes were wide and wet. "What?" she asked incredulously. "Why would-, who?" She knew exactly who Alice was talking about of course, but some part of her wanted Alice to say his name so that she didn't have to.

"Cullen," Alice answered without pause. "Did Cullen hurt you?"

The tears that Isabella had tried like hell to keep back dropped down her face and onto her lap. Her face scrunched up with the emotions that had been hurtling through her and a sob broke from her throat.

"Sweetheart," Alice whispered as she quickly moved closer and pulled Isabella into her side. "Shh, its ok, Bells." Her heart was beating hard in her chest as the images of what had happened between them swirled around her head. If he had hurt Isabella, she would kill the bastard.

"Alice," Isabella sobbed. "I fucked up."

Alice stayed quiet and stroked Isabella's soft brown hair as she waited for her to continue.

"He didn't hurt me," she added. _Not physically._ "He would never hurt me."

Isabella didn't know why, but she had always known that Cullen would never do anything to cause her physical pain. She felt safe with him, even when he had thrown a table across her classroom. There was something in his eyes, something in the way he moved around her and the way he had held her as they had kissed that made Isabella feel secure and impervious to any danger.

She knew - deep in her soul - that he would protect her if she needed him to.

"So, what, Bells?" Alice asked softly as she kissed where her hands had been.

Isabella sniffed and cleared her throat. "We had our session today in Central Park because we couldn't meet at the library yesterday." She sat up suddenly with a face like thunder and a finger pointing in Alice's face. "And _don't_ tell me that it was a stupid fucking idea or be all judgemental and giving me a fucking lecture, because it was utterly innocent and there was no way around it. There were hundreds of people around and all we did was sit and talk-…"

"Isabella!" Alice cried with her palms up in earnest, "Stop! I didn't say a word!"

Isabella stopped and closed her mouth with an audible pop. _Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?_ Her eyes dropped in embarrassment as did the hand that was pointing at her best friend. She cupped her hands to her face and groaned.

"Oh shit, Alice, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-…I'm so fucking sorry." Isabella lifted her head and Alice gasped at the expression on her face. "I'm so sorry. Forgive me? I…I'm sorry, Alice. So, _so_ fucking sorry."

Alice hugged her again, knowing that the apologies weren't all for her. There was so much behind each one and they all seemed so desperate and heart felt. Alice held her as she cried and mumbled and sighed her remorseful pleas. Alice was sure she heard Isabella whisper for her father, but she couldn't have been sure. Whatever had happened had messed with Isabella's head in a way that Alice had never seen before.

"I'm a bad person, Alice," Isabella said finally with her cheek resting on Alice's lap. "I'm a fucked up, selfish person."

"Isabella," Alice chided gently. "Don't be ridiculous. You're one of the kindest, most caring people I know!"

Isabella scoffed. "I'm not. Ask your brother-in-law."

Alice frowned. Her hand froze on Isabella's hair. What the hell did Peter have to do with this? "What do you mean?"

Isabella sat up slowly and pushed her hair from her own wet, tear-stained face. "Peter. The most amazing guy I know. He is charming and sexy and funny and…he deserves so much better than me."

"Christ, Bells," Alice urged with eyes that were rimmed with anxiety. "What the hell happened today?"

"Cullen," Isabella croaked. "He kissed me. And I kissed him back."

=PoF=

Cullen should have been drunk. He should have been, but fucking Christ he wasn't and he was getting really pissed about it.

"Cullen," Ben yelled across the table at him with a wide smile that screamed narcotics. "You look like shit. Fucking smile, man!"

Cullen flicked him the finger and knocked back another shot of tequila. He was sitting on a leather sofa that curved around the edge of the VIP room of the club that Siobhan and her luscious legs had managed to procure for the night.

There were at least twenty people around the table, some of which Cullen knew, others he didn't. Emily was on his right and another female was to his left. He didn't know her name, but her palm seemed to know his thigh quite well. He had moved it off twice, but had given up when she had flashed her tongue stud at him and winked. _Women._

He felt Emily move and sighed when he felt her lips at his ear and her arm around his neck.

"Do you need something to relax you?" she asked. Her breath was sweet against his cheek. She motioned down to her hand where Cullen saw a small baggy of white powder. He rolled his eyes and picked up his bottle of Corona.

"I'm on parole," he snapped. He'd have given his left fucking nut for a hit of that shit. "Do you know what that fucking means?"

She giggled and cupped her hand to her mouth. "Shit, I'm sorry. I forgot."

"Whatever," Cullen muttered.

"You're on parole," tongue-stud girl asked curiously as she drew her finger around the edge of her glass.

"Yeah," Cullen replied. "What's it to ya?"

"Whaddya do?"

Cullen placed his bottle down onto the table and leaned forward so that his nose was next to hers. He smirked as her pupils grew even wider than they were already from the shit she had been smoking.

"You really wanna know?"

She nodded in response.

He cupped his hand to her ear. "I murdered a man," he whispered, "with my bare hands." Her intake of breath made his smile grow.

Fucking gullible bitch._ Maybe that will help you keep your hands to yourself._

He lifted from his seat and motioned to Jake who was literally wrapped up in Siobhan. That shit needed to get a room. Jake _must_ have been fucked to be doing that shit in public view. It wasn't his usual style, but hell things had changed since he had been inside.

"I'm going for a smoke," Cullen called.

He made his way down a short hallway that led to a small area outside that was cordoned off for dirty-ass smokers just like him. The humid night air eased the tension in hi back somewhat but he still felt as though he as walking around with a goddamn broom handle up the back of his shirt. He sparked his cigarette and sighed as he leaned against a wall and looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful night.

His mind wandered to Peaches – not that it had left her for long – and he wondered what she was doing and how she was. He was so angry with himself for thinking about her that way. Why the hell did he give a shit? He banged his head on the wall behind him in frustration.

He gave a shit because he cared and it bugged him to hell that that was the case.

She was his Peaches, of course he cared, but this felt different somehow and he couldn't quite figure out why. He didn't feel bad about what had happened between them. How could he? It was the best kiss of his life as well as the fucking sexiest. It was what had happened _after_ that that had his brain in fucking knots.

Her words _had_ hurt, but his had been just as hard and he felt like a complete prick for saying what he had. She was upset and panicking about the consequences of it all and he hated himself for putting her in that position. He had just wanted her so much. He didn't do apologies, but he knew that this instance called for one. He would have to do it Monday, but that seemed so fucking far away.

"Hey handsome," Emily called as she walked over to him. He hadn't even seen her come out he had been so wrapped up in his own inner monologue.

"Hey," he answered as he put his foot on the wall behind him so that his left leg was bent at the knee.

Emily eyed the tattoos on the arm that lifted his smoke to his mouth and licked her lips. "You know, that was a dumb thing for me to do in there and I'm sorry." She was referring to the coke incident and Cullen understood the apology immediately.

"Don't worry about it," he muttered.

She walked towards him, stopping in front of him with a small, sexy smile. Cullen looked her up and down and took a deep breath. She wanted him. He knew it and she _definitely_ knew it. The question was: did Cullen want her back?

He needed a fuck, of that he was damn sure. Whacking off in the shower before he met Jake had done absolutely shit all to ease the pressure that he had had in his cock since his lips had touched Peaches'. As if on cue, his cock hardened when he remembered the feel of her tongue against his. _Goddamn._

He licked his lips and looked to see Emily's hand rubbing his stomach through his shirt. "I'd really like to help you with you tension and your…problem."

Cullen hissed as her hand rubbed up the length of his cock over his jeans and exhaled when she pulled her hand back down it.

"That's it," she whispered into his jaw as she did it again. "Just feel and relax."

He wanted to relax. He wanted nothing better than to take her home and let her ride him into oblivion so that he could forget the past day and all that had happened.

But he couldn't. _What the fuck?_

"Harder," he growled through gritted teeth to which Emily pressed her palm against him with more pressure. She traced his neck with small kisses, leading up slowly to his throat and chin. Cullen groaned, but it was in irritation rather than pleasure.

The feel of a woman's hand on his cock should have cleared his mind, but all it did was remind him of what woman he wanted most of all. He cursed and grabbed Emily's wrist as she moved to unbutton his fly.

"Don't," he said firmly as he pushed her hand back.

"Fuck's sake, Cullen!" she snapped as she stumbled over his boot. "Make your fucking mind up."

"Watch your mouth," he bit back as he stood to his full height.

"Or what?" she replied with her hands on her hips. "I'm not scared of you. You either want me to jerk you off or you don't, but don't play me because I don't have time for men who are hung up on other women."

He watched with his mouth agape as she stormed back into the club. _Well, fuck._

Her words echoed in his head. _Hung up on other women._ Was _that_ what his problem was? He snorted in derision at her words before he realised, with a moan and a loud curse, that that was _exactly_ what his problem was.

He couldn't fuck Emily or any other woman because he wanted to fuck Peaches. He had _wanted_ to fuck Peaches. Now he wanted to kiss her again. Being inside her would be fucking amazing, but fucking her wasn't an option. She needed more than that. She needed more from him. She needed more than him.

"I'm losing my fucking mind," he grumbled as he walked quickly back into the club; smack into Jake.

"Whoa, man. Where's the fire?" he asked with a slight slur.

"I gotta go, Jake," Cullen answered. "I need to go home and just…I need to get the fuck outta here; clear my head."

Jake's face suddenly became serious. "You ok?"

_NO!_

"Yeah," Cullen answered as he clapped Jake's shoulder. "I'll call ya. Thanks for tonight."

"Sure," Jake replied. "Take care, man."

=PoF=

Alice had sat for an hour, as she had listened to Isabella's account of what had happened in Central Park with her student.

Alice wished that she had been really surprised by what had happened, but she _really_ wasn't. The only thing that _had_ surprised her was that it had been Cullen who had instigated the kiss. Alice knew that Isabella was fond of him; that had been obvious from the get go, but to hear that Cullen felt the same way was fairly amazing. Obviously Isabella was fucking beautiful and he was a red-blooded male, but to risk him self that way, made Alice think that he was in as deep as Isabella was.

And God was she in deep.

Alice could see it all over Isabella's face and hear it in her voice as she spoke about him. The guilt and confusion that dripped from every word crushed Alice's heart.

Isabella had spoken about her father and how she was petrified to disappoint him wherever he was. She spoke about her mother and how devastated she would be with her daughter's actions and the risk Isabella had taken with a career she had worked so hard for.

She spoke about Peter and about how sorry she was when she realised that she had effectively used him to clear her mind of Cullen. And she spoke of the man him self and how she knew that she had lead him on and hurt him with her words.

The fear that Isabella had over the idea that he wouldn't turn up for their next session, because of her actions, was palpable.

Alice did her best to ease Isabella as she cried and lamented over the potential loss of her student and all he had worked for. Alice realised fairly quickly that Isabella cared more for Cullen and his education and parole than she did about her own career and the ramifications of the entire situation, should it be brought to light. Oh yeah, girl was in deep.

Isabella repeated over and over that it wouldn't happen again and that she knew that she and Cullen had to sit down and talk it out. It would be a hard, awkward, embarrassing conversation, but it was a conversation that needed to happen. Alice had suggested that Isabella look in to finding Cullen another tutor, but she had back-handed that suggestion as quickly as the words left Alice's mouth. Why would he need a new tutor if it was never going to happen again? Isabella had asked. Alice had managed to hold her eye-roll.

Isabella had been amazed that Alice hadn't lectured or interrupted her confession with chiding or scolding comments although she was eternally grateful for it.

Getting it all off of her chest was liberating. She was able to explain why she was so upset. She felt so responsible and guilty for everything and admitting that made her feel a world better. She just had to talk to Cullen and that shit was going to be awkward as ass. She knew what she had to say, but whether she would be able to say it was another matter altogether.

Alice had suggested for her to write it down which Isabella had thought was a pretty good idea. She promised herself that she would make a start on her speech the following day. At that point, all she needed was sleep.

Alice was putting on her coat when the phone for the front desk of her building rang. The two women frowned at each other when they noticed the time.

"Hello," Isabella asked cautiously.

"Hello, Miss Swan, it's Fred in the lobby. I'm sorry to disturb you, but you have a visitor and he was asking if I could let him up. I understand it's a late, but he says it is quite urgent."

"That's fine, Fred," Isabella said quickly. "Who is it?"

"He says his name is Garrett Volture."

Isabella's heart dropped at the name. What the hell had happened for him to be at her building at almost midnight? Oh God. Cullen.

"Yes, let him up immediately," she said loudly. "Thank you, Fred."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"What's wrong?" Alice asked as she took in the look of terror in Isabella's eyes.

"Garrett's here," she replied.

Alice had only heard about this man in the last hour. She nodded slowly before she rubbed her hand down Isabella's arm.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Bells," she offered. She shrugged when she saw the incredulous look on Isabella's face. At this time it could only _be_ bad news, right?

They both jumped when they heard the knock at the door. "What if Cullen's done something?" Isabella whispered, feeling her heart plunge into her stomach. What if he went back to prison?

"Then he's an even bigger ass than I originally thought," Alice replied.

Isabella walked slowly to the door, took a deep breath and opened it.

The squeak of shock that left her mouth, when she saw who it was, echoed down the hallway.

Alice quickly looked around Isabella to see a tall, bronze-haired man who was – _my God_ - stunningly beautiful. She couldn't help but stare at him and his chiselled face and broad shoulders, but his eyes were on one person and one person only.

Cullen took a deep breath and exhaled as he looked at Isabella.

"Peaches," he whispered as he felt the ache in his chest disappear as quickly as it had arrived earlier that afternoon.

Isabella dropped her hand from her mouth and stared at him. He looked so tired and worn, but still gorgeous.

"I…I'm sorry I lied," he muttered as he looked at his feet and then back at her. "But I didn't think you would let me up if…" He looked at Alice fleetingly before looking back at Peaches. "If you knew it was me."

"Cullen," Isabella whispered with a small shake of her head. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Cullen's face tinted slightly pink and his hand grappled through his hair. "I wanted…I had to…I just-…" He slapped his palm against the door frame in annoyance at his own verbal ineptitude. "Fuck, I need to talk to you, ok?"

Alice flinched but Isabella didn't. She knew he was simply frustrated with himself and the situation. She saw the need in his eyes and knew that she couldn't send him away. The talk that she had expected would happen on Monday would happen tonight. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Ok," she said softly with a small smile. "Let's talk."

She heard Alice clear her throat behind her and stepped to the side.

"Um, Cullen this is my best friend Alice. Alice this is Cullen."

"Alice Whitlock," Alice said clearly as she held out her hand for Cullen to take.

Cullen eyed her carefully before realisation slowly dawned on him. "Whitlock, huh?" he said slowly with a sardonic smile as he shook her hand. "Well, that shit's good to know."

"Isn't it," Alice replied knowingly.

Isabella, who had no clue what had just happened between the two people standing in her door way, moved the door further open and gestured for Cullen to enter. He hesitated for a moment before he stepped past her and moved towards the sofa where he stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets.

Isabella turned back to Alice with wide-holy-fuck-help-me eyes.

"Call me if you need _anything_," Alice said quietly. "Be honest and clear."

Isabella nodded. "I will." She leaned into her and kissed Alice's cheek. "Thank you. I love you."

"Love you, Bells," Alice replied. "Call me." She waved at Cullen who waved back.

"Goodbye Alice Whitlock," he called before she disappeared from view.

He watched with a thumping heart and a dry throat as Peaches gradually closed her apartment door, leaving the two of them alone, with a hundred million words that they wanted to say to each other with neither knowing where the hell to start.

**Holy Peaches and PAW in Peaches' apartment with no guards, cameras, nosey neighbours, but a huge, giant, nasty cliffie, Batman!**

**I know, I'm a bitch for leaving it there blah, blah, but these kids have A LOT to say and if I kept going I would surely get carpel tunnel and then PAW would be no more, so I know this is a better option.**

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**www(.)twilightallhumanawards(.)webs(.)com**

**And I have also been nominated at the Hidden Star Awards for 3 categories! (I wet my pants at that news!) Again, voting finishes tomorrow!**

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**Leave me love…or hate.**

**TTFN xxx**


	21. Chapter 21

**Bonjour my PAW lovelies!**

**Can I just bow down to each of you and kiss your pretty little feet for helping PoF win 'Best Written FFn of the Year so Far' at the A/H Twilight Awards.**

**I have never won anything for my stories before so to say that I am thrilled would be a huge motherfunkin' understatement! Thank you so much. To the PAW Princesses on Twitter – your love, banter, support and pimpage of this story (and me) leaves me breathless.**

**Sal, this chapter would never have happened without your help. Thank you, honey!**

**I have also been nominated in the Second Round of 'The Hidden Star Awards' – as has my FF wife Rachel1313 for her shithot banner – link at the bottom. We'd both love your vote. If not, vote for ya faves.**

**I know that this chapter has been built up and highly anticipated by many of you and as a result I am currently shitting my pants that it won't live up to what you want *gulp* Please be gentle?**

**Once again, for people who missed it in previous A/N's - PAW stands for PunkAssWard!**

**UST: 9.5**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 20: Midnight ****Caller**

"_It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare, it is because we do not dare that they are difficult." ~ _**Seneca**

Isabella stood, breathing as deeply as she could, with her sweating hand on the brass handle of her apartment door. She closed her eyes tightly in a futile attempt at gathering herself together before she turned to face the man who was standing in her living room.

She couldn't hear him, but she could feel him. She knew that he was looking at her as the familiar warmth of his stare ran up her neck and caressed the back of her head. It felt warm and more comforting than it should.

_He's here. I can't believe he's here._

After taking one, last, deep breath, she released the handle and turned slowly to look at him.

He was beautiful in his stillness. He stood next to her sofa with his hands in his pockets and stared back with eyes that burned into the very depths of her. Isabella found herself leaning against the door for support. He looked incredible, too. His casual attire simply oozed sex. And the white v-neck? _Holy shit._

Isabella noticed that his expression was unreadable, which made her even more nervous.

What the _hell_ was she meant to say to him? She hadn't been prepared for this. He was in _her _apartment and _she_ was the one who seemed most out of place. Goddamn it! She _had_ to take control of the situati-

"She calls you _Bells_?" Cullen asked suddenly, with a slight nod towards the door.

Isabella was taken aback by his question; it was the last damn thing she thought he was going to say.

"Who? Alice?" she asked with a thumb over her shoulder. Cullen nodded. "Um, yeah, she does. Why?"

Cullen sniffed and shrugged gently while his lips turned down into a disapproving pout. "I don't like it."

Isabella's eyes widened in surprise, "You don't_ like_ it," she repeated slowly. He nodded again. Isabella frowned. "What's wrong with it?"

Cullen's eyes left hers and moved gradually around the room. His entire body remained still as he took in his surroundings, as far as his gaze would allow. "It doesn't suit you," he replied matter-of-factly, as he noticed the beautiful artwork that was placed haphazardly on the far wall of the room.

Isabella sighed at his arrogance and crossed her arms over her chest. "And _Peaches_ suits me?" she snapped.

She probably should have kept her temper better, but she was tired and Goddamn it, _that_ name was synonymous with her father. It was his name for her and she liked it.

Cullen's eyes snapped back to her, recognising the bite in her tone. "Yes," he answered. "_Peaches_ suits you."

Unlike Isabella's, however, _his_ voice remained low and even. His eyes went back to the artwork. "_Bells _isn't...sophisticated enough for you."

Isabella scoffed quietly, "Says the man who named me after a fruit, which I still don't understand, by the way."

Cullen didn't look back at her. He knew that he should come clean about why he had given her the name, but truthfully, he was too exhausted to even contemplate her reaction, let alone actually see it.

"I know you don't," he replied instead.

Annoyed with his cryptic answer, Isabella followed his stare to the paintings that adorned her living room walls. She felt her heart skip a beat as she looked at the Chinese oil painting called _'Heaven'_. The light blue and pink, fading to white and silver, for her, symbolised perfectly her vision of where her father was; somewhere peaceful, calm and beautiful. It was no coincidence that it looked exactly like the clouds she had seen out of an airplane window nearly sixteen years before.

"You would prefer I called you _Bells_," Cullen said quietly as he looked from the paintings to her face. He didn't ask. He loved calling her _Peaches_, but if she preferred something else – even fucking _Bells_ - he would try and do it.

Isabella looked back at him. Would she prefer something else? The name _Peaches_ was to Cullen what _Bells_ was to her father - a link to the man. She wasn't sure that she wanted that link to be taken away. In fact, she was sure of it. She shook her head.

"I like it when you call me _Peaches_," she muttered as she ran a hand through her hair, averting her gaze to Cullen's boots, which she noticed were both scruffy and untied.

Cullen felt his shoulders relax. "So do I," he said, just as softly. "But I could call you Isabella, too?"

Cullen wasn't sure what her friends would make of the nickname he had christened her with if they heard it. It may lead to questions that he wasn't prepared to answer; not before Peaches knew the truth herself, anyway.

Even though the sound of her full name on Cullen's lips did funny things to her body, Isabella scrunched up her face at his suggestion. "Only my mother calls me that!"

Cullen smirked, "Fair enough." His eyes softened as he continued to look at her. "We'll come up with something," he added gently.

Isabella tried to shrug with indifference, but his eyes were so penetrating she could barely lift her shoulders. The air seemed to crackle and buzz around them, even more so than it had done that afternoon in the park. Isabella felt her lungs give an anxious squeeze. Everything about the situation with Cullen screamed danger, but everything in her body gravitated towards him. Her confusion was both frustrating and exciting as hell.

"Do you...um, can I get you a drink?" she asked, gesturing with a hand towards the kitchen, utterly petrified by the idea of moving from her safe spot by the door.

Cullen looked, turning his head for the first time, in the direction she had pointed. "Sure," he replied with a glint in his eye. "You have beer, right?"

Isabella looked panicked. "Actually, I don't. I have wine."

Cullen smiled and held his hand up. "Water will be fine." He wasn't drunk by any stretch of the imagination, but he was buzzed. He knew that if he drank more, he would be a lot more likely to say shit that he really shouldn't.

Yeah, water was a fucking great idea.

He watched as Peaches took a tentative step towards the kitchen. Her body seemed slow to catch up with the idea of walking, but she eventually made it, clattering glasses around nervously as she poured Cullen his drink. She was definitely edgy and that immediately made Cullen feel better. Hell, at least he wasn't alone in the shit-scared department.

"Your apartment is um...it's nice," he offered, still rooted to his spot in the living room.

He actually thought her place was stunning. It was clean, which was no big shock, but it was also effortlessly elegant, with its warm colours and stylish artwork. It was Peaches to a 'T'. He couldn't imagine her living anywhere else. It was perfect and told him more about her than she probably ever would. She had tropical fish, which surprised him, until he realised that they were beautiful and graceful too, just like she was. The whole place screamed peace and sanctuary, and he at once felt like a fucker for spoiling that shit by standing in the middle of it.

"Thanks," Isabella replied bashfully as she walked towards him with the two glasses of water.

She held one out to him, like a lion tamer with a prime rib steak. Cullen noticed the slight shake of her hand, but chose to ignore it. It was understandable for her to feel that way with a criminal standing in her apartment at nearly midnight, even if she _did_ know him. He was a fucking idiot for thinking that this was a good idea. He took the glass from her, nonetheless, thanking her with a nod while holding it awkwardly against his chest.

"Sit, please," Isabella said as she moved quickly from him and placed herself at the far end of her couch.

Cullen didn't want to make her any more uncomfortable than she already was, so he took a seat in the single leather chair. He watched her as she sipped from her glass. She looked tired, he thought; tired and fragile. She looked minute, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest and her hoodie hanging from her body. It was the most casual and least put together he had ever seen her. Her eyes were dull and her skin was blotchy, as though she had been crying. _He_ had made her cry at the park. He was such a fucking tool.

The silence between them was deafening and was slowly driving Isabella crazy. She was sure she was either going to throw a complete fit and demand that he speak, or run to the bathroom and throw up. Neither sounded like an enjoyable or exciting prospect, so, instead, she continued to clutch her glass and avoid his stare.

After an age, Cullen cleared his throat and began talking. "You're, um...you're probably wondering why the fuck I turned up at your door at midnight on a Saturday, huh?"

Isabella looked up at him but didn't answer. Her expression told Cullen all he needed to know.

He raised his eyebrows into a confused furrow. "The truth is, Peaches, I don't really know myself."

He laughed without humour and sat forward to place his glass on the low, wooden table in front of him. His hands moved to his jeans pocket before moving back to his knees that were bouncing in earnest.

Isabella allowed herself to smile a little as she recognised the mannerism she had seen so many times in Arthur Kill.

"You can smoke," she said quietly as she pushed towards him the empty glass that Alice had left, offering him a make-shift ash-tray.

Cullen would have quite happily kissed her fucking feet. "Are you sure? I mean, I know you don't smoke and I don't want your apartment to-..."

"It's fine," Isabella interrupted with a small, dismissive wave of her hand.

Cullen quickly found his smokes and lit one by taking a long, hard pull. The pout of his lips around the filter made Isabella's chest flush and her mouth dry. She remembered what he tasted like there. It had been buttery and sweet, with a hint of chocolate and raspberry. She fidgeted in her seat and rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers.

_This was ridiculous_.

"I should quit," she heard him mutter quietly as he looked at the floor between his feet. She stared at his hair that was in fabulous and sexy disarray. She realised she wanted to run her hands through it.

"Why?" Isabella surprised herself by asking. "You enjoy it, right?"

Cullen looked up at her and nodded. "But they ain't exactly good for me," he said with a wry smile.

Isabella exhaled down her nose. "Not all things that we enjoy have to be good for us." _Like you and me._

Cullen caught on to the double meaning of her words instantly and was at once rock hard.

_Fucking Christ, but he wanted her.__ He wanted to enjoy every damn inch of her._

_Starting with her mouth._

His head dropped once more and his cigarette _once again_ met his lips.

"What the fuck are we doing here, Peaches?" he asked as he closed his eyes in an attempt to find the answer.

He had meant his question to be rhetorical, but, even so, he heard her whisper '_I don't know.'_ It made him feel a little better, knowing that she was as confused as he was. He had been so sure that she had meant what she had said about them never kissing again.

Right now, though, there was a tinge of uncertainty to her voice that he wanted to grab a hold of, unashamedly.

_Rules be fucking damned._

He blew the smoke from between his lips as he lifted his head to look at her.

Isabella swallowed when she saw the look in his eyes. It was hunger surrounded by desperation. What he was desperate for, she wouldn't allow herself to think about, although there were parts of her – more parts than she was willing to admit – that returned that desperation unequivocally.

"I've been thinking a lot about today," Cullen said finally. His voice was low and rough, and it made Isabella's toes curl.

"Have you?" she asked lamely. _Like she'd been thinking of anything but the kiss all fucking day._

Cullen nodded and extinguished his cigarette in the crystal glass that Peaches had given him.

He had so much to fucking say, but he'd be damned if his tongue wasn't in fucking knots. He put his hands together as though he was in prayer and placed the sides of his index fingers against his lips, the tips touching his nostrils. He needed a minute to sort through the cluster fuck of words that were littering his brain. He had had an entire speech ready in his mind as he had walked the twenty blocks to her apartment. Now, that speech was as good as fucking deleted.

Isabella watched his face as it changed from hungry, to frustrated and back again. He looked lost. He looked how she felt on the inside (except for the guilt). It was her fault that he looked that way and her heart thumped twice in quick succession while that realisation sunk in. She took a deep breath at the same that she felt the salt of her tears start to sting her eyes. She bit her lip to try and stop the sob that wanted to escape them.

"I'm so sorry, Cullen," she croaked.

She pulled the arms of her hoodie down over the ends of her fingers and then shoved her hands into her armpits, wrapping her arms around herself. It was the only way she knew how to keep herself together.

Cullen watched her face as she tried like hell to hold back her tears. It broke his fucking heart that she was fighting a losing battle with that shit. He realised with a jolt that he wanted nothing more than to put his own arms around her and hold her to him.

The intimate shit was becoming a real mindfuck.

"What the hell are you apologising for?" he asked with an incredulous shrug, which seemed to be all he was capable of doing without actually moving towards her.

_Jesus, his whole body just screamed to be near her._

The relief that he had felt as soon as she had opened the door of her apartment had nearly buckled his fucking knees. The feelings that coursed through him when he saw her were terrifying, but, nonetheless, he found himself still confused to all fuck as to whether he wanted to embrace them, or run the fuck away.

_You're here, Dickwad. You made your choice._

Cullen continued to sit and wait for Peaches to answer. She had her head down, her eyes away from him, but her small shoulders shook with the silent tears she was crying. Cullen hated seeing her cry. It made him fidgety and anxious. He'd seen many women cry over the years - some as a result of shit that _he_ had said or done - but they had never affected him the way Peaches' tears did. He exhaled in annoyance at his own social ineptitude. He was as uncomfortable as all ass with not knowing what to do, until finally - grabbing the situation hard by the balls - he took a deep breath and moved over to the sofa, where he planted himself right the fuck next to her.

Isabella gasped and jumped when the sofa dipped at her side. She hadn't even heard him move.

She wiped quickly at the bottom of her eyes with the tips of her fingers in an effort to hide the evidence that she was utterly fucked up. _He couldn't see her this way_. She immediately felt a wave of longing wash over her and a bolt of heat pulse through her when, seemingly not caring about her horrendous, snot-faced appearance, Cullen clutched her wrists gently and pulled her hands away from her face.

Although he was touching her, he wasn't too close. There was a safe distance between them and for that she was eternally grateful. She could just about cope with his hands where they were.

Cullen's eyes met hers, making sure that the contact was alright, and he smiled softly. He didn't have a fucking clue where his courage to touch her had come from. It was almost as though he had been compelled to do it. It was a compulsion that he knew he was helpless to fight. As it was with most things that concerned Peaches, he yielded easily and without argument. That shit just was.

He held onto her wrists, holding them between their bodies, and sighed. "Peaches," he whispered as his eyes flicked between hers. _They look so sad._ "You're far too beautiful to cry."

Isabella's head felt too heavy for her neck as she immersed herself in his words. She gave him a watery smile, but shook her head quickly after. She couldn't allow him to say things like that to her. It wasn't fair. On either of them.

"Don't be nice to me," she ordered with a shaky voice. "I'm not a nice person. You know this."

Cullen scoffed and frowned. "That's bullshit," he replied firmly. "Why the hell would you think that about yourself?"

Isabella looked at him and cocked her head to the right in amazement. Could he not see that she was a selfish bitch who had put them both in a fuck-awful position?

"Today," she whispered. "I broke the first _major_ rule of teaching." Cullen continued to stare at her with a blank expression on his face. "I got involved with my student."

Cullen's face pinched at the sound of the word _student_. He knew that's what he was, but, shit, she didn't have to say it. The label made him feel even less of a man than he already did. It made him remember what it felt like to be thirteen and in boarding school, away from everyone he knew and cared about, while being taught by self-righteous fuckers who knew shit-all about him _or_ his life. He didn't like it one bit.

"I may be your _student_, Peaches," he grumbled with a look of warning in his eyes, "but I'm also a grown-ass man."

Isabella nodded and exhaled. "I don't mean to offend you, Cullen, but that's what our relationship is." Pulling her right wrist from his gentle grasp, she gestured weakly between them. "I'm so sorry for putting you in this position...I'm...so sorry for everything."

"Stop apologising," Cullen said with a determined tone. "If I remember that shit correctly, I was the one who instigated the...the kiss." The words stuttered on his tongue as the memory of the moment flashed before his eyes. The taste of her had been astonishing and he craved more.

Isabella bit her lip as the hunger in his eyes returned with a vengeance. She felt almost hypnotised by his bright green stare. "I kissed you back," she murmured, to which Cullen nodded.

His eyes dropped quickly to her mouth before bouncing back to her eyes. "Yeah," he growled. _Fucking right she had._

He shifted closer to her, keeping his fingers wrapped around her left wrist. His thigh touched hers and the warmth of her skin through his jeans made him suck in a ragged breath. He wanted to feel it all over his body. He wanted to feel _her_ all over him ... on him ... in him ... and _vice versa_.

The hunger that he had for her snarled deep within his stomach, making his hand tighten slightly around her small wrist. She felt so breakable under his touch, with skin as thin as paper. He took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes tightly in an effort to calm himself while swallowing his desires down.

It was no mean feat. He wanted her. And from the look in her eyes at that moment, she wanted him just as much.

"Peaches," he said in a deep voice. "That kiss was…shit, it was…There is something between us that..._fuck_...I don't even know what to call it, but I know you feel it, too. I felt it on your lips and I can see it in your eyes."

"It doesn't matter-..."

"Let me finish," Cullen snapped with an eye-roll. "_Christ_, woman, you can be a pain in the ass." He ran a hand through his hair before pinching the bridge of his nose.

Isabella closed her mouth and waited for him to continue. He was so sexy in his frustration. She was desperate to iron out the creases in his forehead that she knew she had caused and then kiss the hell out of him to make sure that they never appeared again.

Cullen could feel her eyes on him and reflexively licked his lips. He had to focus, though; he couldn't think about her that way just now. He had to lay everything out for her. She had to know where he stood. Exactly_ how_ he was going to put his thoughts into coherent sentences, however, he wasn't sure. But, fuck it; he'd have a damned good go.

"You drive me fucking crazy," he continued in a voice like gravel as he dropped his hand from his nose. "You interrupt, you're self-righteous, and you're bitchy. You're suspicious of people who wanna do right by you, and your moods and temper? Goddamn, they change so fast it's like dealing with a fucking psych patient."

Isabella blinked once in utter shock at his words and felt that same temper start to bubble under her skin. How fucking dare he! Self-righteous? Moody?

She tried to pull her wrist out of his grasp, but he held it tight. "Let go of me," she hissed.

"Let me fucking finish first," he retorted in a sing-song voice.

Her reaction was simply supporting everything he had just said. And, fuck, if Isabella didn't realise that. She huffed, raised her eyebrows in expectation and shoved her tongue into the right side of her mouth so that it wouldn't run away with her.

Cullen smiled. Her sass and fire were fucking awesome. He wouldn't have her any other way. She had to know.

"You are all those things," he continued with a slow nod. He let his gaze slide over her, from her curved hairline to her dainty toes, and sighed in defeat, "But dammit if I don't want every fucking part of you."

_Dear Lord in Heaven._Isabella was speechless. Her tongue lay flaccid at the bottom of her mouth and, with God as her witness; every fucking bit of moisture in her body high-tailed it to converge between her legs. And, oh Jesus, she throbbed.

He wanted her. Oh God, _he_ wanted _her_. Not that she hadn't already suspected as much, he _had_ kissed her after all, but, hell, hearing it from his mouth..._his mouth_...hearing it, was a completely different ball game. She wanted nothing more than to tell him that she wanted him too because, at that moment, she had never wanted anyone or anything more, but the words stuck in her throat like a fucking chicken bone.

Cullen waited for her to say something. His heart was pounding in his chest. He felt like a virgin teenager telling a girl that he had a fucking crush. He was in unchartered territory and he was fucking petrified. He had put himself out there, laid himself out for all to see, and now she was looking at him like he had just asked her to elope with him to Outer Mongolia.

There was panic, of that Cullen was certain. The want in her eyes was still there, but it was gradually being overtaken by a look of hopelessness. Fuck, this can't be good.

"Cullen," Isabella whispered. "I...we...we can't do this."

_Bull. Shit._ "But you want me," he urged as he moved so that he was facing her. "I fucking know you do, Peaches." She wanted him so much he could almost taste it. He wanted to taste her.

He lifted his hand and caressed the side of her face. He watched her eyes roll back into her head and sighed when he felt her lean into his touch. It was just about the sexiest fucking thing he had ever seen.

"Look at me," he said softly, as he saw another tear slide down her pale cheek. She slowly opened her brown eyes and looked at him. For the first time, Cullen noticed that she had small hazel flecks around her pupils, making her eyes look like marbles. _Stunning._

"I know," Cullen uttered as his thumb traced the apple of her cheek. "You have this...deep-seated guilt that...I don't fucking know, like you think you coerced me into something? But that's bullshit, Peaches. I didn't need to be coerced into anything; I came willingly. This can't be wrong if we both want it." And, fuck, did he want it.

The words that were tumbling from Cullen's mouth were causing a huge fog to appear in Isabella's mind, engulfing everything she wanted to say to him. All the strong, succinct words that she knew were needed were swallowed up into a smog of lust. She had wanted so much to be clear with him. This..._whatever_ it was that was happening between them, _couldn't_ happen. Isabella _knew_ this. Alice and she had spoken at length about the reasons why and Isabella had been so damned determined.

But now, here she was, with her face in his hand, wanting him to kiss her and make her body sing. She wanted him in her bed. Holy shit, she wanted him inside of her.

_No. Fuck, no__! This is wrong!_

She placed her fingers around Cullen's wrist and lifted his palm from her cheek. She immediately felt the loss and cold, and straight away wanted to put it back. But she didn't.

"Cullen," she said quietly. "I...I do... I understand how...hard it must have been to be so honest with me. But the guilt I have...it isn't just for you."

Cullen held back the biting retort about her patronising ass and instead clenched his teeth.

"I made a promise, a long time ago, to help people and make a difference. This," she looked down at their laced hands, "was not part of that promise."

Cullen watched the uncertainty and fear creep over her face and dance in her eyes. _But she wants me for fuck's sake!_ She had to admit it. He was terrified too, but _he_ had been honest. Why couldn't she do the same?

Completely incensed, he pulled his hands from her grasp and sat back on the sofa. _Fuck this._ He pulled out a smoke and lit it in record time. His head was beaten. His buzz was fading and Peaches' words made him feel totally helpless. It wasn't a nice feeling. At all. He despised it, in fact.

She wanted him, he wanted her. Black and white. _Yes_, there were rules, but surely some could be bent so that they could..._what..._be together? Yeah, be together. He wanted to be with her. Naked. Naked and wet. Naked and wet and moaning and…

_No, Cullen, one step at a time._

He hated that she was denying what was in front of her. It wasn't even about his ego and the rebuff it was receiving (women _didn't_ say no to him). He hated the fact that she was filled with a guilt that he knew - no matter how deeply rooted - was without substance.

How could she not see that they could be fucking amazing together? How could _he _make her see?

Maybe he really wasn't worthy of her? He had some pretty fucked up shit hidden in his proverbial closet.

He shook his head at that thought. No, that wasn't why she denied him. She didn't even know about that crap. The fact that she knew a Whitlock would be mulled over later. What a fucking curve ball _that_ was.

Back to the point in hand, Cullen knew that she denied him because of their teacher/student relationship. But surely, that was easily dealt with? It was just sex. It was only sex that he wanted, right?

He looked over at her. _No. With Peaches it would be more than that._ Strangely, that thought didn't scare him half as much as he had expected. She looked so troubled with her lip wedged between her teeth. He wanted to do that to her and then kiss it better. Goddamn it, she was ruining him. _How could she not see that?_

"You could quit," he muttered around his cigarette before he threw it into the glass where it continued to burn and smoke up the crystal. Isabella's eyes flashed to his in question. "You could stop tutoring me." Cullen had to admit, his suggestion surprised even him, but if she wanted him she would find a way to be with him.

Isabella shook her head and Cullen growled deep in his chest. _God fucking dammit_

"No," she said firmly. "Why would I do that? So that... what?" she asked in exasperation. "So that I could kiss you and touch you without feeling like a complete-"

Her words were lost as Cullen's mouth suddenly crashed against hers.

The shock of it was over the second she felt him push his large hands into her hair and hold her face firmly to his. He had her trapped and she could do nothing but melt into it as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

The kiss was so completely different from the one in the park. This kiss was ravenous, desperate and hot as hell. Cullen's mouth enveloped hers, nipping, sucking and moving all over, covering every inch of both her lips. His mouth was warm, wet and slippery and made Isabella's whole body feel the exact same way. Her hands found the lapels of his shirt and gripped them for dear life. _More. Closer._

She moaned loudly when his tongue pushed into her mouth and his taste invaded all of her senses. It was fucking perfect. It was smoke, whiskey and sour lemon as it flicked and twisted inside of her. His tongue penetrated her in a way that she had imagined other parts of him would: forceful, dominating and needy. Isabella ached in places that had been dormant for too fucking long and, like a volcano, the yearning and passion that she felt for this man were now just bubbling under the surface, ready to erupt.

His face, with its two days of growth, felt rough against her cheek and chin, but she didn't care. She liked it. No, she fucking loved it. She wanted more of it: the pain and the pleasure. She pushed against him, kneeling on the sofa; her knees touching his, trying to get nearer to him. She felt her pussy purr and clench in satisfaction when he groaned in response.

_Yes, Peaches,_ Cullen thought as she begged him for more with her mouth. _Have me. Have every fucking inch of me. Feel how good we could be, baby. _His fingers tangled tightly in her hair as..._shit_... he began to lose himself again. _Naked. Wet. _He wanted to touch her, make her cum.

_Not this time__, Cullen,_ he repeated silently.

Her smell, her taste and the feel of her small hands fisting his shirt were enough to make_ him_ cum there and then. She felt so good and they were still fully dressed. _Goddamn._ His cock wept, it ached, and his mouth watered at the possibilities laid out before him. She had such control over his body that, for one short moment, he felt owned by her. And, for that one short moment, he liked it.

His hands travelled to her neck when he suckled on her bottom lip and she began whimpering into his mouth. _Her sounds._ Fuck, her sounds made him want to lay her back, spread her legs and work at increasing the volume of every single one. He wanted to hear her scream his name at the height of her orgasm and he wanted to feel her fall apart around his mouth, fingers and cock. _Respectively._

But now _wasn't _the time. That would miss the point he was trying to make.

With his hands still cupping her small face and with the will he didn't even know he had, he slowed his mouth and laid languid strokes of his tongue across her lips. _So soft._ Slowing further, he placed a string of quick, gentle pecks from one corner of her mouth to the other. Eventually, he pulled back and smiled.

_Success._

Peaches' lips were still puckered, and her eyes were half closed and heavy. Her chest was rising and falling with the shallow breaths that she was taking and he could feel the speed at which her heart was racing from the pulse in her neck. She was fucking gorgeous.

He groaned inwardly at the thought of the severe case of blue balls he was going to have to deal with after tonight, but he'd suffered worse. Much worse. And, if things went according to plan, it wouldn't last long.

Isabella's eyes gradually flickered open and she found herself back on Earth, looking at a beautiful man with an equally beautiful expression on his face.

"You back with me?" he asked as he cocked an eyebrow.

She couldn't even be pissed at his arrogance because, fuck, if that wasn't the best kiss she had had in her entire life. She had never experienced anything like it and she immediately wanted to _experience_ it again. Without saying a word, she grabbed his shirt and moved toward him - needing his mouth against hers - but his hands on her shoulders stopped her dead.

Cullen gave himself an inner fist-pump as he held her back. _She's hot for me_. He must have been fucking insane. She wanted more. She wanted more of _him_. It was written, clear as day, across her beautiful face and there _he _was, denying her. The simple fact was he knew he had to be cautious. He wanted her to embrace her own desires for him and be with him completely, not simply because she was lost in the moment of a fuck-hot kiss. If he was going to have her – and by Christ he was determined to – then they both had to be copasetic.

Even if she _was_ red-faced and breathless, she was also still guilt-ridden and confused and, until that was erased and she realised what she truly wanted, he would back off and let her come to him. He needed it to be on her terms. For his own sanity.

"We can't," he said softly. Holy hell the words tasted like fucking ass on his tongue. How the hell did she manage saying that so damn much? He took in her expression and felt his stomach flip-flop. _Here it comes._

Isabella stared at him, utterly perplexed.

Hadn't he just practically raped her mouth after she had said those exact words_? _"What?"

Cullen sighed and moved away from her so that his elbows were resting on his knees. "You're right, Peaches," he murmured with a slow shake of his head. "We shouldn't...can't...do this."

Isabella blinked at least six times in quick succession. "Wh-what?" she stuttered. _Was he for real?_ "You just asked me to quit being your tutor!" she exclaimed. "Then kissed me like...well, I... And now you're saying I was _right?"_

He ran his hands through his hair and dropped his chin to his chest. "I know," he murmured. "I wasn't fucking thinking straight. I just needed to feel your mouth again. _Fuck._ It was a selfish thing to do." _But you need to see, Peaches._

Starting to feel seriously fatigued, Isabella mirrored his pose, entirely mystified by his actions and the words that contradicted them. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He had put the brakes on big time and yet he seemed contemplative and calm.

Maybe that was a _goodbye-this-can-never-happen-again _kiss? In many ways, Isabella was amazed at his ability to put a stop to it. She hadn't wanted to stop it and that was a dangerous admission to make.

Truthfully, she had been about two seconds from mounting his fine ass and grinding the shit out of him. His mouth was so needy against hers that she was convinced he was about to bulldoze through the walls of reason and sense that she had started to rebuild inside herself. But he had pulled back. He was the sensible one this time and she was..._thankful_? Maybe. _Pissed?_ Yup. _Fuck._

She gripped her head in annoyance at her own indecisiveness. She needed to sleep.

"So, what now?" she asked, her voice shaking with weariness.

Cullen turned to her and gave her a small smile. "There's nothing we can do if you are determined that we don't…pursue this. We carry on as normal. We try and...behave." Cullen couldn't help but smirk as he noticed her wince a little.

Isabella couldn't believe how he made it sound so simple. After _that_ kiss, she wasn't convinced it would be. At. All.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said quietly after a moment of silence as he focused on his hands that were now clasped in front of him.

"Sure," Isabella replied.

"Is it _really_ because I'm your student?" Her silence told Cullen that she didn't understand. He tried to explain. "If I wasn't your student...would you ... ? Could you ...?"

"Does it matter?" Isabella asked with a small scoff.

"It does to me," he answered sharply.

It really did and he hated his insecurities. He may have been a cocky motherfucker, but he still needed to know that the only reason she denied him was because she was scared of the consequences and not because she didn't want him. He knew she did, but part of him needed her to want him as much as he wanted her. _Pathetic? Sue me._

Isabella took a deep breath and blew it out towards the floor. Of course she would allow herself to have him if he wasn't her student. She doubted that she had ever desired or wanted a man as much, but it was a moot point. He _was_ her student and she was breaking rules and promises by having feelings for him. _Shit!_ _Was _she developing feelings for him? Her forehead suddenly felt cold and clammy.

"I think it's time for you to go, Cullen," she murmured. She daren't look at him for fear of what she would see: disappointment, anger. And she deserved ever bit of it.

When Cullen had neither replied nor moved, Isabella lifted her head timidly to look at him. What she saw nearly knocked her ass off of the sofa and onto the damn floor.

He was smiling.

It wasn't a wide, toothy smile. No. This smile was one of knowing. It was mischievous and naughty. Christ, Isabella thought in absolute terror, the man can see straight through me. Cullen held her stare for what felt like a lifetime before he slapped his palms to his knees and lifted so that he was standing over her. She felt exceptionally small as she looked up at him through her clogged eyelashes, which did nothing but poke relentlessly at her ego.

Isabella had always prided herself for being determined, independent and spirited. She wasn't a hard-core feminist and she had plenty of friends and family, but she liked that she could rely on herself to achieve and cope when life turned on a dime. However, the more time she spent with Cullen, the more she noticed how much she wanted him to look after her and..._protect her?_

_What_ she needed protection from, she wasn't sure. Maybe herself? She scoffed inwardly. That shit was for _damn _certain.

Isabella lifted from the sofa and shuffled behind Cullen as he headed for the door. She tried to keep her eyes from his ass, but hell, she failed with honours. She came to a halt when she noticed Cullen was stationary with one hand on the brass handle.

"Are we still meeting on Monday?" he asked, his voice giving no indication as to what he was thinking or feeling.

Isabella nodded and gave a small smile. "Of course," she replied. "Four o'clock sharp."

Cullen returned the smile and shifted his feet. "I'm sorry for...disturbing you tonight and for..." He gestured towards the sofa and the corners of his mouth turned up and then down, quickly, "My bad."

"It's ok," Isabella answered embarrassedly as she pushed her hands slowly into the front pocket of her hoodie.

_You can do it again. Any time._

She dropped her chin to her chest and toed the floor. "I'm sorr-" she began but stopped when she felt him move closer to her. She looked up at him, her forehead only coming up to his stubbled chin.

"Stop apologising," he whispered firmly. "I'm here because I wanted to be and because I thought we could find a way to sort this. I understand your reasons for saying no. I do. I don't like them, but I get it. We're fine and we'll carry on as though nothing happened. Easy."

His stare was piercing as he lifted his hand and slowly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. He was so gentle; Isabella couldn't help but close her eyes as he did. She was becoming all too fond of his touch. _Easy? What-the-fuck-ever!_

"Do you speak Italian, Peaches?" Cullen asked as his index finger traced the soft lobe of her right ear. She didn't give a verbal answer, seemingly only able to shake her head no. "No? That surprises me, Miss Swan." Isabella could hear the smile in his voice. "Did you know that _Bella_ means beautiful?"

She nodded and steadily opened her eyes to see him leaning down towards her.

"So fitting," he murmured.

She held her breath as he moved to place a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth. It was warm, electric and sensual and made Isabella's body rejoice.

"Goodnight _Bella_," Cullen whispered against her skin.

"Night," she answered in a daze as she felt her heart skip a beat. _How the hell did he do that?_

Before Isabella could even figure out how to get her brain to engage with her mouth, Cullen had opened her door and had slipped out of it. The click of it closing behind him jolted Isabella from her stupor, leaving her exhausted and alone, and having no idea what the fuck she was going to do.

##

Cullen wandered down the hallway towards the elevator, too unsteady on his feet to take the stairs. How the fuck he had walked out of Peaches' door he had no clue. The burning desire he had, to carry her to bed and do unthinkable things to her glorious body, almost overwhelmed him, but he had been strong and determined in his plans - even if she _had_ made it really fucking difficult. Good God he'd never experienced want like it.

When he had asked her whether she would have him if he wasn't her student, the expression on her face had answered so loudly, it had been as though she had screamed her reply from the top of her lungs. The pink in her cheeks and the way her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, told Cullen that she would have him in a heartbeat. But that wasn't what had excited Cullen the most. No. That had been caused by the absolute look of frustration and uncertainty that danced in her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. He could read her so fucking well.

She was so close to giving in to him, that Cullen could hardly wait.

Maybe it was cruel to play with her in such a way, but where was the harm in giving her a gentle shove in his direction? The consequences of their behaviour – of which there were many - would be dealt with in time. As the elevator opened and Cullen entered it, he couldn't help but wonder how long it would take his Peaches, his _Bella, _to fall off of her moral high horse.

All he knew for certain was that, when it did happen, he would be there with open arms to catch her. _Bella._ That sounded a shit-ton better than _Bells_!

His moment of excitement, as well as the wood he was sporting where both deflated quickly by the horrendously loud ringing of the cell phone that was in the ass pocket of his jean. He groaned in annoyance. Who the fuck would be calling him now?

He rolled his eyes when he saw the name and pressed accept. "Paul, dude," he whined. "What the-"

"Cullen!"

Cullen was instantly on alert, and all thoughts of his beautiful Peaches were forgotten, as a cold chill shot up the back of his neck. Shit had to have gone down. Paul's voice – which was usually wicked cool and calm – was allsorts of fucking panicked._ Fuck._

"What's happened, man?" Cullen asked, trying to hide the agitation in his voice.

There was a shuffling at the other end of the line and muffled voices that Cullen couldn't make out. "Paul!" he called as the elevator doors slid open, allowing him to haul ass across the lobby of Peaches' building and out onto the sidewalk.

"I'm here," Paul replied with a sharp tone. "Look where the hell are you?"

"I'm in Soho," Cullen answered quickly. _Why the hell did that matter? _He felt his patience wane and his temper start to rise. "Paul, what the fuck is going on?"

Paul exhaled heavily down the phone. "It's Jake," he answered, making Cullen's heart drop to his feet. "You need to get here, man, he's in bad shape. They were…relentless."

"Who?" Cullen growled into his cell as his vision narrowed and his _brother-from-another-mother_ protective loyalty, surged through his chest.

Paul's voice became scarily quiet as his one word answer, slipped down the receiver, "Aro."

**Holy not another cliffie coz I can't cope, Batman!**

**I hope that lived up to your expectations. Things are moving along quite nicely for Peaches and our sneaky boy PAW. Please don't be too annoyed with his master plan.**

**Reverse psychology? Hmmm, let's hope it doesn't backfire, huh?**

**Thanks again for all the love that you give this story. I am continually amazed by your support and feedback.**

**Follow me on Twitter (at)sophiejax and PAW (at)PunkAssWard**

**Also, Caro2lalala, one of the awesome PAW Princesses on Twitter has set up a PAW Chatroom that you can join after you have read the update so you can fawn over PAW debate, moan, whine or whinge at me! Ha**

**The link is: http:(/)savorchat(.)com/r/4n2 **

**It is accessed through Twitter and the password is Peaches.**

**Please place your votes at the Hidden Star awards – closing date is Monday 20****th**** Sept– www(.)thehiddenstarawards(.)blogspot(.)com**

**PAW has been nominated****, as well as Rachel1313 for her amazing PoF banner. She's a genius. Just sayin'.**

**Leave me love…or hate.**

**TTFN xxx**


	22. Chapter 22

**I'm here! I'm alive!**

**After the epic fail that was FF(crap)net at the weekend, my Internet up and died so here we are!**

**To all of you who have waited patiently: I thank you greatly.**

**I appreciate everyone who reads and reviews or follows this story, and I realise in FFiction land a week between posts can feel like a year, but please understand these things do happen – as well as real life sometimes - so there may be delays and begging relentlessly will not get the chapter out faster.**

**I do my utmost to update regularly and so far have only missed three weeks. Thank you for your understanding. I think you're all wonderful!**

**PoF won 'Most Original Story' at the Hidden Star Awards last week. Thank you so much for your votes. I was speechless.**

**Thanks again to all the PAW Princesses on Twitter. You are all exceptional human beings and you make writing this a pleasure. Thank you! See ya on the chat room!**

**UST: 5**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 21: House of Cards**

"_One kiss breaches the distance between friendship and love." ~ _**Unknown**_._

3 years ago...

_Cullen exploded through the office door of Black's body shop like a man possessed._

_He launched the flimsy piece of dry wood open so hard against the wall behind it, that the plexi-glass within the door shattered. The sound echoed through the entire building, signalling the absolute fury that was inside him._

_The glass crunched under his boots, but he didn't give a shit._

_What he did give a shit about was the one kilo brick of uncut cocaine that he had inside the bag that was secured to his sweating back and the stupid motherfucking asshole who had landed it._

_The man in question was standing behind the office desk, rifling through a pile of papers. He didn't even flinch at the sound of the intrusion or at the sight of the brick as Cullen slammed it down in front of him._

"_What the fuck, Jake?" Cullen snarled as his eyes bore holes into his best friend's scalp._

_Cullen was met with silence which, unluckily for Jake, was not the best way to calm him down. Cullen crashed his fist down onto the desk between them and yelled his question again. _

_Jake paused his shuffling of papers and slowly placed his hands on his hips. He took a deep breath and looked up at his friend. Cullen's expression was terrifying. Jake had seen Cullen mad before, but this was a whole new level. He looked vicious, bordering on homicidal._

_The ringing in Cullen's ears could attest to that shit. He was fucking raging._

_Cullen lifted his eyebrows, still waiting for a response. For Jake's sake, he hoped it was good. He couldn't for one moment even start to contemplate why he had found the shit under the passenger seat of the car that they both used at the garage for drop-offs and lunch runs, not least because the stamp of Aro Bartollini was all over the fucking thing._

"_Explain," he growled through clenched teeth as he nodded curtly towards the brick._

"_Explain what?" Jake asked in a quiet almost exhausted voice._

_Cullen wasn't in the mood for Jake's bullshit. At. All. "Don't be cute with me, Black. Explain why the fuck there is a k of coke with the Bartollini code sitting on this fucking desk."_

"_Because he gave it to me," Jake replied calmly without missing a beat._

_Cullen's eye narrowed in confusion. "He gave it to you to what? Sell?"_

_Jake shrugged and dropped his eyes to the package. "I have no clue, but I couldn't say no."_

"_But we don't work for him anymore, Jake. We run our own ring: you and me. So why the fuck would he do that?"_

_Cullen felt his blood start to run cold as a fuck awful thought occurred to him. "Did you make a deal?" He whispered the words for fear that, should they be too loud, they would most certainly be true._

_Jake's chin dropped to his chest and Cullen felt his shoulders sag in defeat. Fuck._

"_Jake," Cullen murmured as he rubbed his face with his right palm. "What the-"_

"_She's pregnant, Cullen."_

_Time stood still for a moment as the words that Jake had uttered, whooshed around Cullen's brain like a goddamn tornado. Pregnant? Oh holy shit._

"_Vanessa," Cullen said on the breath that escaped his lips. Of fucking course it would be Vanessa. She was the only woman that Jake had been seeing for the past eighteen months._

_In secret._

_Behind her drug dealer father's back._

_And she was pregnant._

_This was _so_ not a good situation._

"_She told me last week," Jake muttered as he fingered the wood of the desk. "Two months gone. I...I'm going to be a father."_

_Cullen took in the look of wistfulness that crossed Jake's face, but didn't linger on it. "Does Aro know?"_

_Jake's head snapped up and his eyes burned a fire of hate. "No," he barked. "And he won't ever fucking know!"_

"_She's his daughter, Jake," Cullen argued. "How the fuck is she gonna explain the appearance of a fucking kid in seven months?"_

"_We're leaving," Jake said matter-of-factly as he walked around the desk towards the safe at the back of the office._

_Cullen was incredulous. "Leaving?" he repeated. "And just how fucking far do the two of you think you'll get?"_

_Jake spun around from the safe with a handful of cash. There was easily forty grand in his hands, secured with multi-coloured bands of elastic._

"_Far enough," he said firmly as he placed the money on the desk. "I've been saving."_

"_No shit," Cullen muttered as Jake turned and pulled out more cash. He rubbed a hand through his hair and exhaled noisily as he watched the amount grow. "This is fucking insane, Jake," he groaned. "You have to see that? Aro's daughter!"_

_Jake slammed his palms against the top of the safe. "Don't, man," he warned as he glared over his shoulder at Cullen. "Don't start with your holier than thou bullshit."_

"_Me," Cullen thumbed his own chest, "Holier than thou? Give me a fucking break!"_

"_I fucking love her, Cullen." Jake said the words softly, but he may as well have screamed them into Cullen's ears._

_Love? Was he fucking crazy? Cullen stood, utterly dumbfounded, with no clue what to say._

"_She loves me and we're gonna make this work. No matter what," Jake continued as he pushed the money into a large trash bag._

_The determination in his voice would have been fucking touching - if not Hallmark card-esque - had it not been for the sirens that could suddenly be heard in the distance. The two men looked towards the sound that was becoming gradually louder and froze for a millisecond. Cullen looked down at the block of coke and felt the cold, hard pieces of the moment slide in place._

"_Aro," he muttered through gritted teeth, "That motherfucker."_

"_What?" Jake asked with wide eyes, as though it would help him to see what Cullen so clearly did._

_Cullen turned to Jake with sombre eyes. "He fucking knows, Jake."_

_Jake's face immediately lost its normally russet glow while he wet his lips quickly with the tip of his tongue. "He couldn't...there's no way...I mean..."But the slight stammer to his voice suggested he had just realised, like Cullen, that Aro knew fucking everything._

"_He sent you home with this and then called the fucking cops," Cullen said as he picked up the brick and stuffed it back into his bag._

"_Cullen, what the fuck are you-..."_

"_Go," Cullen said firmly, keeping his eyes on the bag. "Get your ass outta here, find an alibi and a place to lay low and then get to Vanessa."_

"_Cullen, I can't let you take the heat for this," Jake urged as he stood almost chest to chest with his friend._

_Cullen shook his head, "And what, you go down and never see your kid? Fuck that."_

_He pushed Jake towards the back door as the sirens grew louder, and the familiar red and blue lights, licked up the walls of the body shop entrance._

_Jake shook his head. "Cullen, man, think about this...it's my problem."_

"_No," Cullen retorted with a determined shake of his head. "Your problem is looking after Vanessa and your kid."_

"_You can't fuck-"_

"_You love her, right?" Cullen cried as he stared hard at Jake._

_Jake's face dropped gently, his nostrils flaring as he nodded slowly._

"_Then fucking go, asshole," Cullen ordered with another shove of Jake's shoulder._

_Jake paused, knowing and hating that his friend was right. He had to look after Vanessa and their baby. That was his priority. Cullen would take the fall for his stupidity: a way to make things even between the two of them. Evening the score aside, Jake knew that, if Cullen went down, he'd owe the fucker until his dying day._

_He took a huge breath, clapped Cullen on the shoulder and beat feet out of the door; the bag of money clutched in his right hand._

_Cullen had seen the remorse in Jake's eyes and that was fine. It was a fucked up situation that Black had gotten himself into and now, Cullen appeared to be right in the middle of it._

_He sighed in resignation, knowing what a kilo of uncut cocaine, which had a street worth of around $24,000, meant in terms of jail time. He'd be lucky to get less than five years._

_Fuck it. He didn't have anything better to do, and it would sure as shit put Bartollini's nose out of joint if Cullen went down instead of the guy who had knocked up his daughter._

_Cullen smiled to himself, pulled the bag further up his shoulder, and walked out of the office towards three police cruisers that had come to a screeching stop outside of the body shop._

=PoF=

Cullen heard Jake before he saw him. The idiot was shouting something about leaving him the fuck alone. There was scuffling and a yelp. Cullen strode into Jake's sitting room, past a furious looking Paul to find Jake, slumped across his couch, looking three sheets to the wind with a bust nose and a right eye that was closing up nicely.

"Fuck's sake," Cullen muttered under his breath.

"Cullen!" Jake called with a wide, drunken smile. "Check out my gifts courtesy of Marcus-I-like-to-suck-cock-a-lot's fists!" He proceeded to lift his shirt to show large bruises and a cut along his rib. Jake frowned. "That may have been the fucker's boot. I can't remember."

Cullen's head snapped towards Paul, Seth and Ben, the latter of whom was sitting in the corner of the room, with a joint in his hand and a whore on his arm. "Where the fuck were you when all this went down?"

Paul held his hands up and shook his head. "Don't bring it here, man," he warned. "The fucking idiot left us, told us to stay where we were. He was looking for a fight the minute Marcus showed up with his cronies."

"No doubt," Cullen muttered under his breath. "Were the cops involved?"

Paul shook his head. "We hauled ass before they made an entrance. That's when I called you."

Cullen walked over to Jake, who had shut up and mellowed as he watched his friend Jack spark a smoke and hand it to him. Jake moaned as he inhaled and blew out the smoke, but flinched and grimaced when he tried to move. Cullen sighed. The fuckers had sure given him a beating.

"How many were there?" Cullen asked Paul

"I don't know," he replied. "There were two when I got there, but there could have been more."

Yeah, no shit. Jake looked like he'd been set upon by the entire National Guard. _Motherfuckers._

Siobhan, still in her club outfit, appeared from the kitchen with a bowl of water and a towel. She gave Cullen a tight smile as she kneeled at Jake's side and began trying to clean him up. Trying being the operative word as Jake swatted her away while mumbling expletives. But Siobhan wasn't taking any of his shit.

"Stop it, Black," she snapped, "Before I put you on your ass for real!"

Jake grinned at her, cigarette dangling from his bloodied lips, and winked with his good eye. "You know you make me hard when ya talk that way, baby."

Siobhan rolled her own eyes and continued to dab at Jake's mangled face.

"We need to get your dumb ass to the hospital," Cullen said as he perched himself on the table by the sofa. Siobhan had unfastened Jake's shirt and the full extent of what the bastards had done to him could be seen by all. Cullen felt his fists tighten at his sides when Jake jumped as Siobhan ran the towel over his chest.

"I'm fine," Jake answered in a long breath. "Besides, the hospital asks questions."

"You haven't got anything to hide, Jake," Cullen argued. "If we just take-"

"I'm not going," Jake said in a tone which demanded compliance. He was a stubborn fucking ass when he wanted to be.

Cullen ran a hand through his hair and exhaled loudly while Jake eyed him curiously.

"I thought you were going home," Jake said as he blew smoke down his nose. "But then Paul said something about you being in SoHo."

Cullen avoided Jake's stare and grabbed for the cigarettes in his back pocket. "Yeah," he muttered noncommittally. "I went for a walk."

Jake snorted and winced all at the same time. "A walk, huh? And what's _her _name?"

Cullen shook his head as he opened his flick lighter. "No-one you know." He wasn't about to tell Jake and all that surrounded him about Peaches and what had happened between them.

That was his business and, as such, it wasn't about to be shared. _Fuck. That._

"You stink like perfume," Siobhan said with a smug smile and a glance over her shoulder.

Cullen smirked back. "So do you," he retorted.

##

Nearly two hours later and Cullen was sitting with a beer in his hand, next to a very stoned Jake. Everyone had left, after much coaxing. Paul had wanted to stay but Cullen had waved him off, telling him that he would stay instead. He was far too livid and riled to sleep at fucking all, and he knew for certain that sleep would be a long time coming for Jake too.

The two men had simply sat smoking and drinking while listening to Jake's iPod. The current track was Kings of Leon, _Closer_. Cullen couldn't help but think about how apt the lyrics were for the night as a fucking whole.

Actually, it had been a strange fucking day. Starting with his work out with Alec, to then meeting Peaches in the park. _The kiss._ The rebuff. The almost hand job and then the trip to Peaches' house to where he was currently sitting. It all seemed like a hazy, dream-like experience.

He allowed his mind to wander back to Soho, to his Peaches, and wondered what she was doing. He glanced at the clock, and blinked in surprise when he saw the time was four in the damn morning.

_She'd be sleeping, Dickhead._

He sipped languidly from his bottle of Corona and sighed as he thought about her naked and tangled in her sheets. _Damn. _He'd love to see that. Maybe she would let him, once she realised and accepted that she wanted him? He scratched his chin in thought. Had he made the right decision in regards to playing with Peaches' emotions?

He had been positive, as he had sauntered out of her apartment, that it had been the right thing to do, but now, he wasn't so sure. Thinking back to seeing Jake on the couch, battered and bruised the way he was, as well as Ben and his bitch and the drugs he had on him, Cullen had begun to wonder whether he wasn't dragging Peaches' into something that she was miles above and far too fucking good for.

She was better than his world, but then he had always known that. The two of them had been reacquainted in a goddamn prison for fuck's sake. Not exactly a love story setting. Wait. _What? Love?_ Cullen felt his face contort slightly as the word whipped around his brain. He suddenly felt too big for his skin and his clothes felt too tight. He shifted in his seat and tried to erase that thought completely. Love was stupid and thankless. He only had to look at Jake to see that. As well as his own parents. It wasn't for him and he was _definitely_ not the loving type!

Nope. _No siree._

"You got ants in ya damn pants?" Jake murmured as Cullen wriggled in his seat in an attempt to get comfy.

"No, I'm good," he replied as his bottle of beer met his lips.

"So," Jake continued with heavy lids and a slack mouth. "Where were you _really_ tonight?"

"Soho," Cullen answered quickly.

Jake turned his head so that his cheek was resting on the back of the sofa as he looked at Cullen. "And _who_ is in Soho?"

Could Cullen really tell Jake about what was going on with Peaches? Would it be a wise decision? He wasn't sure, but maybe, in his trashed state, Jake would have some words of wisdom. Stranger fucking things had happened.

"I um, I was at Peach-, um, Miss Swan's apartment," he said quietly as he picked at the label on his beer.

Jake snorted and smiled. "I fucking knew it!"

"What?" Cullen asked as his head snapped around to face Jake. "What did you know?"

"You're boning the tutor. Nice!"

Cullen rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. "We're not fucking boning," he bit back. "We just...talked."

"Yuh, huh," Jake murmured unconvinced. He rubbed at his black eye, seemingly forgetting that it was sore, and cursed when he was reminded by the pain that shot through his cheek bone. "You 'talked'," he mimicked with a knowing smile. "I feel ya, man. No worries."

Cullen didn't try to correct his friend. What would be the point? Cullen could understand completely why Jake would think that he had fucked his tutor given his sexual history. Hell, that _was_ the end game after all - or so Cullen kept telling himself - but Cullen couldn't help but feel slightly pissed. Was he really such an asshole that people – including his best friend – thought him incapable of being in a room with a woman without having his dick in or on her?

_Whatever._ Cullen knew that he had pulled back when he and Peaches had kissed and he was damn proud of that fact.

"Apparently, my tutor is acquainted with the Whitlock's," Cullen mused aloud, diverting Jake's attention from the alleged boning.

Jake straightened a little in his seat. "No shit," he replied. "She know that you are 'acquainted' too?"

Cullen shook his head, "Didn't seem that way. She didn't say anything at least."

Cullen had wondered briefly how Peaches knew the Whitlock's. He knew that Peter was married so that had to mean that the small woman he met tonight belonged to Jasper. _Small fucking world. _The way that this Alice had looked at him, however, suggested that she knew _exactly_ who Cullen was. Why she had not said anything to Peaches, though, was a small tic under Cullen's skin. He would have to ask about that shit. Something was definitely up.

"It would have been his birthday today," Jake muttered through lips that hardly moved, breaking the silence and jumping Cullen's train of thought.

Cullen frowned in confusion. Shit, Jake was probably just messed up from the pot. He'd been chugging on that shit for the best part of two hours. Cullen decided to humour him anyway.

"Whose birthday?" he asked casually.

"My son's," Jake replied with a shaking voice, "My son's birthday."

Cullen kept his stare on his knees before closing his eyes briefly in rage. _Aro and his motherfuckers._ They would have known this fuck awful nugget of information and would have used it against Jake to get a rise from him. Cullen was one of a very small group of people who knew about what had happened between Jake and Vanessa, and the miscarriage that she had suffered.

The fact that Jake hadn't been there when it had happened, ate away at him every day. Cullen understood that Jake's asshole demeanour was just armour that hid a shit-load of hurt and pain. He understood it better than anyone. Hell, he had the goddamn franchise on that crap.

"Is that what Marcus said to you?" Cullen asked in a low voice. "Was he baiting you with that shit?" Cullen knew Marcus well, and knowing what a sadistic fucker he was, it was no surprise that the shit would have a hard-on for Jake tonight.

Jake leaned his head back against the couch and exhaled a grey stream of smoke. "No," he replied. "But he knew that it would be on my mind." He rubbed a hand across his eyes. "I just...I just saw red, man, you know?"

Cullen nodded slowly. He knew how Jake was when it came to Vanessa and the pregnancy. He was fiercely protective of her, even though they had been apart for nearly three years, and if anyone mentioned the baby, then Jake's reaction was similar to that of throwing kerosene on a bonfire. Yeah, Cullen knew exactly what Jake meant by seeing red. It was just a pity that Jake had been outnumbered. One on one, Marcus would have been shit out of luck.

The right side of Jake's face was still puffed-up and bruises had begun to gather along his jaw line. Cullen knew that he would make Marcus pay for what he had done. Aro or not, Cullen wasn't afraid of that fucker. He'd get him alone and show him what the consequences were of messing with his family, because blood or not, Jake was Cullen's brother in every way that truly mattered.

"I...I miss her," Jake whispered as he closed his eyes, his voice sounding hoarse. "Christ, I miss her so fucking much."

Cullen sat in silence, beer still in hand. There was nothing that he could say that would take the pain away. Being there was enough. Gingerly, he placed his palm on Jake's shoulder and squeezed as he watched the tears of anger and grief roll slowly down his friend's swollen face.

=PoF=

Isabella was late. _Fuck._ She was so fucking late.

She had slept through three alarms and as a result was hauling ass across the Arthur Kill car lot, hair all over the place, bags thumping against her legs. She stumbled through the main doors, smiling weakly at the lady at the reception desk and jogged as best as she could in the heels that she was wearing.

Three security doors down, and speeding up past Newton's office, she barrelled into her classroom where she was met with a resounding cheer and whistle from one Emmett McCarty. She ignored him as best as she could when he started clapping, and slammed her bags down onto her desk, muttering an apology.

Angela looked sympathetic as Isabella straightened her skirt and clipped her hair up away from her face, but Isabella didn't have time to respond. She wanted to get on with her lesson and get her mind away from the surreal mind-fuckery that was the past two days of the weekend.

As she began to hand out the resources for the next couple of hours and much to her annoyance, her mind wandered slowly back to the past forty-eight hours: starting with the two kisses that she and Cullen had shared.

She felt her cheeks grow hot and her heart pick up the pace as she remembered the feel of his rough cheek against hers and the words he had spoken to her. She hadn't slept after he had left. Not a wink. No, she had stayed awake, trying to figure out what the hell she was meant to do.

_Should she quit as his tutor? Who would she speak to about that? Would they know why? Was it worth it? Did she want him enough to make that decision? Was it just about sex?_

So many questions had pummelled her head that it was no wonder she had needed a stick of TNT up her ass to get her out of bed.

The conversation on Sunday with Alice had been interesting to say the least, almost as interesting as her conversation with Peter. Both had been fleeting and filled with white lies that Isabella just knew would come back to bite her on the ass.

Yes, she and Cullen had spoken at length, she'd told Alice. Yes, she had tried to be clear with him. No, nothing had happened between them that shouldn't have. See. The lies were just coming far too easy now.

And with Peter, it had been even worse. Yes, I'm feeling better. No, I don't need anything. Sorry, I'm busy tonight and tomorrow night, can we arrange something for another time.

Yeah, Isabella thought, she was an A1 bitch of epic proportions.

The fact that she had been entertaining the idea of quitting as Cullen's tutor just so they could go at it like rabbits should have been enough to make Isabella sit up and take a long hard look at the highly unorthodox relationship the two of them had forged. But no. Isabella had entertained it and, what was worse, she liked the idea of it.

Yeah, she was going straight to hell.

The guilt and the morals that she had surrounded herself with had, after Cullen had left, seemed to crumble at their very foundations. It was scary and unnerving that he had so much power over her. But she couldn't help but think how he made her feel: body and soul. No man had ever conjured reactions from her body like Cullen did.

But could she really put her career in jeopardy just so she could get her rocks off? No. No, she couldn't. The truth was Cullen had seemed content to back off. His decision had surprised the hell out of her, but it also showed that he respected her. Isabella had a feeling that Cullen didn't respect a lot of people so surely that meant something.

One thing she did know for certain was that she couldn't allow herself to show how affected she was by him. Granted, she had practically thrown herself at him on her sofa, but she could put that down to a lack of sleep and judgement. They had to behave, just like he had said which meant things had to change.

The problem, however, was that Isabella had already changed. She could feel it – deep in her stomach – something had shifted. There were parts of her: secret, untouched parts, which seemed to be coming alive and that fact alone, scared the ever loving shit out of her.

An outsider would say that Isabella was falling for Cullen. Isabella would say that she was simply confused. Either way she was walking a dangerous line that seemed to be leading in only one direction.

##

At the end of Isabella's session, she found herself walking towards Garrett's office. Her feet and legs felt sluggish, almost willing her not to keep going. But she had to. She needed answers and direction. And truthfully, there was no one else.

After taking a deep breath, she knocked lightly against the door.

"Come in."

Isabella opened the door slightly and put her head around it to find Garrett sitting at his desk with a file open in front of him. He smiled gently at her.

"Miss Swan," he said as he stood from his seat. "Good to see you. What can I do for you?"

Isabella bit her lip and allowed her whole body to slide slowly into the room, closing the door behind her, grasping the handle as though her life depended on it. Her knees felt loose, almost as though they had forgotten what their job was, which was holding her ass the hell up.

Garrett's face dropped a little as he took in her expression. "Are you alright?"

Isabella tried to smile back, to reassure him, but it fell flat. She cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck with her palm.

"I need to ask you a hypothetical question," she muttered towards her feet.

Garrett frowned in surprised confusion. "Hypothetical," he repeated to which Isabella nodded.

"Well," Garrett continued. "I'll certainly do my best."

He gestured for Isabella to take the seat on the other side of his desk before he sat back down and replaced the papers he had been reading back into the folder.

Isabella slinked over to the chair and sat down quickly. This was hell. She likened it to being in the Principal's office after doing something naughty at school. The irony of that thought was not missed on her at all. She fisted her hands in her lap and averted her eyes. She was never like this. She never behaved like this. Ever. She was usually so strong and steadfast, and the fact that she wasn't made her angry to the point of tears.

"Miss Swan," Garrett said softly as he sat forward. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she croaked through a dry throat. "I was just...I um..."

"He came to see you, didn't he?"

Isabella's head shot up so fast her eyes took a second to catch up, "Wh- what?"

"Edward," Garrett clarified as he pushed a hand through his hair. "He came to see you on Saturday."

Isabella blinked in shock, "How did-...?" She couldn't even finish her sentence. Her tongue suddenly felt too big for her damned mouth.

Garrett held up his cell phone and twisted it gently in his hand. His expression was one of remorse and apology. "I received a call from him asking for your address. He said it was urgent. I know I shouldn't have, Miss Swan, but he said that you had had a fight and he sounded..."

"No," Isabella interrupted with a hand towards him. "Don't...don't worry. I'm glad you did." And she was. She was glad that Cullen had someone as good as Garrett that he could go to when he needed something.

Garrett exhaled and nodded. "Good. I was hoping that you would see it that way. If I thought for one moment that he would do anything stupid I wouldn't have told him. Edward rarely asks for help or assistance from anyone, so I knew it was serious when he called."

Isabella smiled a little and rubbed her palms against her skirt in an effort to stop them sweating.

"Is that what this is about?" he asked with a tilt of his head. "Did he do something wrong?"

Isabella shook her head. No. Everything Cullen had done had been oh so right...

"Who do I speak to about quitting as his tutor?"

The words tumbled from her mouth with such speed she was amazed they came out in the correct order. She figured she'd do it like a band-aid: quick and painless. However, as the words settled around them, all she _did_ feel was pain. Not physically, but emotionally. She felt anger at herself for asking the question she never thought she would. She felt guilty because of her family and friends, as well as grief and regret.

Her eyes began to become blurry but she swallowed the tears back as best as she could. She'd done enough crying to last her a life time thank you very much.

Garrett sighed as he saw the turmoil zigzag its way across Isabella's face. She looked so small and vulnerable in the large leather backed chair. It wasn't a good look on her at all.

"Why would you want that?" he asked in the soft voice he usually used with his daughter when she had fallen and hurt herself. "Did he do something?" Fear rose in his throat. Oh God, what if he had hurt her in some way?

The smile that tugged at Isabella's lips was weak but reassuring. She shook her head. "He didn't hurt me. He wouldn't. Ever," she murmured. "I just...Who do I speak to and what are the procedures?"

Garrett heard something in her voice that sounded suspiciously like affection as she spoke of Edward, but he let it go. It didn't take a genius to work out why she was asking what she was. It was written all over her face and etched in every inch of her eyes as they met his. She'd fallen for him. _Fuck. _

"Isabella," he said gently. "Why do you want this?" he held his hand up when she started to jump in with an answer. "What I mean is if he hasn't done anything wrong or violated the conditions of his parole, how are you going to justify quitting as his tutor?"

Isabella closed her mouth gradually as she felt her shoulders slump in defeat.

"The truth is," Garrett continued. "If you want to quit as his tutor – and you have every right to if you so wish – you have to give just cause in front of the board and Mr Newton."

_Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit._

"Really?" she asked in a voice she didn't recognise as her own. It was quiet and beaten.

Garrett nodded solemnly before he sat forward and rested his elbows on the desk. "It will cause questions and...I'm not sure you'd want to answer them."

Isabella nodded in understanding and took a long, shaky breath. Well. That was that.

"Isabella, if I may?" Garrett motioned to stand and nodded towards the chair at Isabella's side.

"Sure," she replied and watched as he came around his desk and sat down next to her. Isabella had forgotten what a big guy Garrett was, but as he took his seat and smiled at her he seemed more like a gentle giant.

"I don't want to upset you with what I want to say..."

"It's ok, Garrett," Isabella interrupted. "Really, I'm willing to listen to just about anything right now."

"Ok." Garrett cleared his throat and fiddled with his tie clasp. "If you and Edward are involved in a relationship that is more than simply teacher/student, then I have to warn you. I have to tell you that you are contravening the teacher code of the facility and placing yourself at risk of prosecution."

Isabella's face crumpled.

"But," Garrett added. "If you weren't together until the nine month probationary period of his parole is over," he shrugged, "Then there would be no problem."

Isabella dropped her chin to her chest and nodded. She knew this already. She knew that she would have to wait until her contracted time with Cullen was over before they could be together. _If _she wanted them to be together. Was that what she wanted? She wanted to see what was between them, of course, she couldn't deny that. Almost mounting him on her sofa had pretty much sealed that deal. But it was fucking useless. The odds were stacked against them both.

"Maybe I'm not being clear," Garrett said as he pulled off his glasses and wiped the left lens with his tie. "What I meant to say was if you and Edward are together and _nobody_ knows until the end of his probationary period, then there would be no problem."

Isabella lifted her head and frowned at the man before her. _Was he being serious? _She narrowed her eyes in an attempt to see through his bullshit but came up wanting. He was being totally serious.

"Are you saying that-...?"

"All I'm saying," Garrett said with his hands up in surrender. "Is that what people don't know can't hurt 'em."

The two of them stared at each other for a time, both silent but saying so much. Isabella couldn't understand why Garrett would be willing to be discreet about her relationship with Cullen. He had nothing to gain from it. Or was that the catch? Did he want something? She felt her back straighten and her muscles tighten in defence.

"Why?" she asked in a firm, no nonsense tone that surprised Garrett. "Why are you saying this? What's in this for you?"

Garrett frowned and looked around himself as though he was searching for a set of keys or something else that was equally elusive.

"There's nothing in it for-..."

"Are you doing this so you can run to the board yourself," Isabella snapped accusingly, her voice like ice, "So that you can tell Newton and get me fired and-...?"

"HEY!" Garrett slammed his hands down on the arm rests of the chair he was seated in as he shouted.

Isabella jumped at his reaction and immediately felt remorseful and exceptionally embarrassed. Of course Garrett wasn't like that. He'd been nothing but supportive and helpful to Isabella in her quest to help Cullen. Why the hell, would that have changed?

For fuck's sake she needed to get a grip.

She cupped her hand to her mouth and released a small cry. "Oh Christ, Garrett, I'm so sorry. I know you wouldn't...I know you'd never..."

Garrett's face returned to its usual softness as he saw Isabella's small shoulders shake in apologetic sobs. He slowly placed a hand on her forearm and gave it a small squeeze which only made the tears come faster.

"He needs you, Isabella," Garrett murmured quietly, "Even if he hasn't truly realised it yet. He needs you."

"I...I can't do this, I..."

Garrett smiled a little. "Isabella, you are the only person who can. You put him in his place, you don't take his bullshit, you have reached out to him and he loves you for it."

The word love settled around the two of them, but neither acknowledged it. For Isabella, the word, although slightly uncomfortable and alien in her ears, didn't feel wrong. And that was unnerving as shit.

Garrett's touch and soothing voice, however, did help slow the flow of tears that had left streak marks down Isabella's cheeks.

Garrett wished he could do more. He saw the turmoil and the yearning in Isabella's face and at once remembered hearing the exact same things in Edward's voice when he had called, asking for Isabella's address. The two of them, no matter how much they fought it, were connected in a way that Garrett knew was undeniable.

Edward had told him that he wasn't stupid and that he knew what he was doing. Truthfully, if it hadn't been for the determined lilt in Edward's voice, Garrett wouldn't have even entertained him, but it had been there and it was, for Garrett, an exceptional sound. A sound he'd never imagine hearing from Edward's self-righteous and angry mouth.

Whatever it was that Isabella did or had Edward gravitated to it and, in turn, became the man Garrett knew had been hiding under the punk ass swagger he was so renowned for. Isabella was breaking him down piece by piece and, from the looks of it; he was doing the exact same thing to her.

Garrett watched as Isabella began to calm down and her breathing resumed to a steady pace. She explained briefly what had happened when Edward had turned up at her apartment (leaving out the moment on the couch) and what they had said to one another. Garrett couldn't be certain, but he thought he saw guilt around the edges of her pretty face as well as frustration and possibly anger in her eyes.

He wasn't so much surprised to see those particular emotions as he was saddened by them. It was a strange situation that the pair were in, and although many folks would find it inappropriate and immoral, Garrett could only see it for what it was: meant to be.

His advice was succinct and honest. "Take your time and try not to panic or worry. I know this shit sounds clichéd and sugary sweet, but just let Fate take its course. What more can you do?"

Isabella nodded slowly and thanked Garrett for his time and understanding.

She trusted him and his kind face to keep what had been said between them. She knew she was still nowhere near the answers that she was looking for, but goddamn it felt good to get some of it off of her chest.

Despite the fears that Isabella had about her friends and family and their reactions towards her and Cullen's relationship, it made her heart feel less heavy, knowing that there were people that saw it as something positive.

Isabella decided there and then that she'd start to do exactly the same.

=PoF=

Later that afternoon found Cullen sprawled eagerly under the sexiest lady he seen in a while. Tight, fast and hot were the order of the day and Cullen had found himself more than a little excited at the sounds she had made as he touched and played with her.

"Seth, throw me that socket wrench, man," he called from behind the back passenger wheel of the '67 GTO. The suspension on the damn thing was shot to shit and he was determined to fix it, and had been all morning; even taking to having his lunch while still underneath her.

"Seth!" he called again when he got no response. "Fuck's sake, am I here on my own?"

He pushed angrily with his feet and slid the wheeled board he was lying on, out from under the vehicle. There was no one around but he could hear muffled, excited voices coming from the shop doorway.

Well, shit, at least some one was having a good fucking time!

Cullen stood and wiped his oil covered hands against the legs of his overalls and stomped across the cold, concrete floor to bust someone's ass for being lazy motherf-

"Edward Anthony Masen Cullen. I'll be goddamned!"

Cullen stopped midstride as he heard the loud, familiar female voice echo across the space towards him. He couldn't help the smile that lit up his face like a fucking July fourth bonfire or the warmth that spread through him from his feet upwards.

The woman in question was a hell of a sight: Tall, almost statuesque; with blonde hair, that would have put Marilyn Monroe to fucking shame, framed a flawless face that needed no crap to make beautiful, and a body that – had the situation been different – Cullen would have had naked on his bed at the earliest opportunity.

As it was, however, the woman who was sauntering over to him like a jungle cat was virtually his sister. In the same way Jake was his brother.

"Well, holy shit, Rosalie Hale," Cullen said through his wide smile. "Aren't you a sight for sore fucking eyes? Who the hell did I piss off to have to deal with you?"

He watched while she tried to keep her face pouty and pissed, but she failed miserably as, after a moment, she laughed loudly and threw her arms around his neck. He caught her and squeezed her to his chest.

"Fuck, it's good to see you," he muttered into her hair.

"You too, asshole," she replied before placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Cullen groaned in annoyance, knowing that he would have a huge fucking lipstick mark on his face.

Rosalie stepped back and looked him up and down as he wiped at the red Maybelline off of his skin with the palm of his hand.

"You're too fucking skinny, Cullen," she said with her hand on her right hip that cocked out like a damn pro.

"And you're fucking ugly," he retorted, dodging her hand that shot out to swat his shoulder.

"Fuck you," she laughed with a shake of her head.

Cullen pulled an eek expression. "And wouldn't that be just all sorts of wrong. You're practically family!"

"You're an idiot," Rosalie chided. She turned to Jake, Paul and Seth who had been watching the entire exchange with incredulity and amusement. "He hasn't changed a fucking bit!" she pointed out with a thumb in Cullen's direction.

"So, really, how come you're here?" Cullen asked as he leaned against the ass of a BMW X5.

"I'm here working," Rosalie answered as she took a cigarette from the packet that Jake offered her.

"I didn't know the circus was in town," Cullen muttered which resulted in an enthusiastic thump in the stomach from Rosalie. He bent in the middle to catch his breath.

Holy fuck he'd forgotten how strong she was. Those defence classes had worked fucking wonders.

"I'm a PA for an advertising executive, smart ass. I love it. We've just been to Rome and, after New York, we're headed to LA."

Cullen smiled at the look of excitement on her face. It was such a good thing to see. At one point, not too long ago, Cullen had wondered whether he would ever see anything but heart ache and pain in her eyes, but now they shined with promise and optimism.

"That's fucking awesome, Rose," he said honestly as he nudged her shoulder with his own after he stood upright. "How long ya in town for?"

"Two weeks," she replied as she exhaled her smoke. "But the company may be looking at a permanent base here."

Cullen's eyebrows shot up and a smirk appeared around his cigarette. "No shit."

"Shit," she answered with a nod. "You may have me here a lot more often.

Cullen turned to Jake. "That's it. We're moving the motherfucking shop," he deadpanned.

Rosalie's fist once again slammed into Cullen's stomach. "Fucking Christ, Rose," he gasped.

"We need to go out. Clubbing. Dancing. Drinking," Rosalie said, ignoring Cullen as he continued to cough, much to the delight of Jake, who patted his back supportively.

"Sounds good, Rose," Jake laughed as best he could with a still swollen face, "Just as soon as my boy here regains the use of his lungs. Call during the week. We'll arrange this weekend?"

"Perfect," Rosalie smiled. She bent down and placed a kiss at the side of Cullen's mouth. "See ya then, asshole!"

"Yeah," Cullen replied as he rubbed discreetly at his stomach. "I'll be sure to wear my fucking Kevlar vest."

He laughed lightly as he watched her wave and wink nonchalantly while walking down the sidewalk and across the road to a shit-hot, silver McLaren Mercedes.

"She looks great," Jake said sincerely, waving at Rosalie as she drove past.

"Yeah," Cullen replied with a quick nod and a grimace, "Punches great too."

##

An hour later and Cullen was running up the library steps, taking two at a time, feeling his heart rate speed up as he got nearer to where his Peaches would be waiting. Since he had left her apartment on Saturday night, thoughts of Peaches had been regular and detailed.

Sure, dealing with Jake and staying with him, had kept him busy, but he had found that she was always at the forefront of his mind during everything that he did.

He wandered through the library after signing in at the front desk, grinning like a dickhead at Mrs Cope, who eyed him with hr usual disdain, to find Peaches sitting in her usual spot, playing with her cell phone. He looked hurriedly at the clock on the wall. Nope. He was on time for a fucking change. Bonus.

She looked beautifully solemn with her hair in an elegant twist at the nape of her neck, and the soft blue of her sweater, set off the pale delicacy of the skin on her collarbone. He wondered for a moment what that part of her would taste like. He realised he was licking lips and was, unsurprisingly, hard as a damn rock. Hell, he was only human after all.

He took a deep breath as he approached her and let his cool facade slide firmly into place.

"Hey," he said brightly as he walked around to the chair opposite her. He placed his bike helmet down on the desk and looked down at her. He immediately wished he hadn't.

Her eyes were literally shooting daggers at him and her face was so ferocious he almost cupped his balls to protect them. He paused momentarily as he began taking off his leather jacket.

"Um...are you ok?" he asked nervously.

Her mouth, which was in the tightest line he had ever seen, hardly moved as she replied with: "I'm fine."

_Oooookay._ Cullen shook off his jacket and placed it on the back of his chair as Peaches began banging shit around like she wanted the whole of fucking Manhattan to know where she was. Cullen sat his ass down in his seat, his eyes still on the obviously pissed woman before him. He grabbed at his bag of Oreos and sat back, trying to look as indifferent as possible.

He wasn't sure what he had expected from her after what had happened over the weekend, but this sure as shit wasn't it. He licked at his cookie slowly and carefully as Peaches threw him a copy of Hemingway's _A Farewell to Arms_ and his notebook.

She slammed back in her seat and exhaled hard enough to warrant a damn wind breaker. _What. The. Fuck?_

"Peaches," he said quietly, leaning forward slightly in his seat. "Are you sure you're ok because right now, you look like you're ready to cut a motherfucker."

Brown met green as Peaches stared hard at him, her lips lifting into a sexy as hell pout that just screamed for his tongue along it. The twitch in his cock suggested it wasn't half as fucking worried about Peaches temper than Cullen was.

"I'm fine," she repeated in a tone that sent shivers of burning hot lust through Cullen's crotch. "Can we just start? I'd like to begin by exploring the title: What can we assume about the genre, content, plot of this story from it?"

Cullen stared back at her, feeling his mouth lift into an almost snarl with his need to cover her bitchy fucking mouth with his own. Ok, he thought, let's play. Whatever game this was, he was ready for it. Denial was a bitch and she reeked of the damned stuff. She was denying her desire for him and it was making her about as approachable as a pre-menstrual cactus. _Fine._ This was her problem, not his.

"_Farewell_ obviously means goodbye, so we're talking about a parting or maybe even a death. The _Arms_ could be in reference to the arms of an actual person which could imply a romance genre or the arms of war, which would suggest that, action or period. The formality of the language would suggest the latter.

"In closing, the title in its entirety, in my mind, denotes a couple during the war who are separated by it, and one of them kicks the fucking bucket." He threw the book back down onto the table. Hard. "How'd I do, Miss Swan?"

Peaches looked about ready to explode which was just fine. Anger had always suited her.

"Great," she growled back. "Now open up the first chapter and start fucking reading."

Shit. He'd promised he'd read it aloud hadn't he? _Fuck._

"Yes, Ma'am," Cullen replied quickly and sarcastically. He opened the book to chapter one and cleared his throat. "_The summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains..."_

As he read, Cullen's gaze flickered back to Peaches who was trying to look as though she was reading along, but the anger in her eyes told him that the words were probably not registering. As sexy as she was when she was pissed, not knowing the origin of her annoyance vexed the hell out of Cullen. As far as he was aware he hadn't done anything wrong. They had parted on good terms when he had left her apartment. Hadn't they?

Cullen finished the first chapter and Peaches silently handed him a sheet with a number of discussion points. The discussion, however, was entirely one-sided. She nodded and hmm'd in response, but that was the extent of her communication with him and, by the end of the two hours, Cullen was just about ready to burn the fucking library down.

He watched; teeth fused together tightly, as she packed up her giant-ass bag, muttering something about seeing him on Wednesday. He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to work her the fuck out, but she didn't see. Her eyes were anywhere but on him. And it pissed him off. He rubbed the centre of his chest in aggravation, as it twinged with what was most likely stress, and grunted a goodbye as she walked away from him.

It seemed that the back of Peaches' head and he were becoming well a-fucking-quainted.

He sat for a couple of minutes after she had left, foot tapping out a hard and fast rhythm against the leg of the table before he leapt to his feet, grumbling and cursing, and made a mad dash out of the library doors; helmet and jacket in hand. Why the hell was he always chasing after this fucking woman?

_Oh yeah, because I'm a fucking idiot, that's why._

His eyes scoured the crowds of 47th before he spotted her, hair blowing in the wind as she hurried down the sidewalk and across the street. He barged past a guy with a ponytail as he launched himself down the stairs and beat feet after her stubborn, pissy ass.

Dammit, she could walk fast for a small person.

"Bella!"

The name slipped from his mouth before he could stop it, but she didn't hear him. Instead she kept walking. He was sure that if he found her to be ignoring him he would have to hit something. Really fucking hard.

"Bella!"

She rounded a corner and Cullen picked up the pace, weaving in and out of the stupid goddamn people that were in his way. He hit the corner just in time to see her throwing her bags into the trunk of her Mini Cooper before slamming that shit down with a force he didn't think she was capable of.

He flat out sprinted towards her, grabbing her arm as she moved it to open the car door.

"What?" she yelled up at him as he spun her around.

Her venomous tone along with the proof that she had indeed been ignoring him did nothing but light a huge fucking fuse under his patience and anger. He dropped his jacket and helmet onto the sidewalk and pinned her hard against the side of her car with his hands gripping her hips. If he hurt her, she didn't let on.

"What the fuck?" he growled. "What the hell is up your fucking ass?"

"What do you fucking care?" she spat back, her teeth clenched and her eyes wild, "Just leave me alone."

The raw feeling that ripped up the centre of his chest on hearing her words, made Cullen take a moment to collect him self. He tried to take a breath but found it was easier said than done. He shook his head and tightened his frown.

"Not until you tell me what the hell is up with you. You've done nothing but look at me like I've slaughtered a pack of fucking puppies since I walked into the library. Now what fucking gives?"

She turned her face from him and he instantly caught her chin and brought it back to his.

"Peaches," he said with a slightly gentler tone. "Talk to me. What…what did I do?"

He noticed how his voice sounded almost pleading but he couldn't have cared less. They were going to sort this shit out before she put one part of herself in the damn car.

"Look in the mirror," she said finally, through a mouth that hardly shifted.

"What?" Cullen asked incredulously. What the fuck was she talking about?

"Look in the fucking mirror." Peaches pointed to the wing mirror of her car and raised an eyebrow in expectation.

Cullen took a deep, annoyed breath and quickly dipped his head to see what the fucking hell she was losing her shit-

_Oh fuck me._

"I'm not sure that shade of lipstick suits you," Peaches snapped as she tried to move from his grasp at the same time that Cullen rubbed mercilessly at the side of his mouth.

He wasn't for letting her go. He stood back up, red smeared over his cheek, where he had tried to get it off and tried to get his words in the right order before he tried to explain.

"It's not what you think," he began.

"Do you know what, Cullen," Peaches retorted. "I really don't give a shit because it's _really_ none of my fucking business."

Well, that part was technically true. But standing in front of her with some woman's lipstick mark all over his fucking puss, Cullen felt like he _had_ to try and explain him self. And he never explained himself. Ever. Go figure.

"You're pissed," he said in a low voice.

"Yeah. I am," she answered. "But only because I'm a fucking idiot."

Cullen frowned again, making his temples ache. "Why are you a fucking idiot?"

Wait a minute. Cullen lifted his head back slightly and the sides of his mouth twitched into a smirk.

"Are you…are you jealous, Peaches?"

The force of Peaches palm connecting with Cullen's left cheek made his head flick sharply to the right.

It didn't hurt. At least the impact hadn't hurt, but the look of pain that crossed Peaches' face and the tears that had filled her eyes, shot through Cullen's chest like a blunt blade.

"You arrogant fucking pig," she whispered as a tear escaped and rolled down the side of her nose. "You have…you have no idea what I have been through this weekend since you turned up at my apartment in the dead of night and kissed me. You _kissed_ me."

Cullen was entirely mute as he listened to her voice shake with emotion. He had no idea what to say or do. He felt useless as she pushed him away. He stumbled back and released his grip on her waist. His hands were instantly cold.

"I went to Garrett today," Peaches continued, wrapping her arms around herself, "Spilled my fucking heart out about everything, and like a fucking moron I even asked about quitting as your tutor so that…" She paused and scoffed while shaking her head in what looked like disgust.

"So that what?" Cullen's brain hadn't even registered the words as he said them. His voice sounded like how he felt on the inside: raw and sorry.

"So that nothing, Cullen. Absolutely. Nothing."

Cullen's nose scrunched as though he had smelled something bad. But it was simply the ache that had taken over his body at the sound of the words that had left Peaches' lips that caused it.

He wanted to kiss her again. Jesus, he needed to. He wanted to hold her and tell her he was sorry for being a fucking insensitive, arrogant prick; but he wasn't built like that. His inner walls, although crumbling, were still high and tight in many places. He was emotionally fucking impotent. Ironic really.

He took a small step towards her, hoping that she would see it as his way of apologising, his way of connecting with her, but she held her hand up to stop him.

"Don't," she said firmly. She shook her head and looked at her shoes. "I'm done, Cullen."

"No," he growled, shocking the hell out of himself.

"Yes," she bit back. "No more kissing, no more charm and turning up at my apartment. No more park meetings. We meet at the library, we study, we go home. End of."

She moved away from him and opened the car door. As Cullen took another step towards her, she turned back to face him.

"Please," she pleaded in a voice that was so young and innocent he couldn't help but think of the fateful night they had met. "Please, Cullen. Don't make this harder for me."

Her eyes lingered on his: wide, brown and beautiful and Cullen immediately felt something shift and stir deep in his chest. He rubbed at it again with the heel of his hand as she slowly dropped into her car and started the engine.

Cullen had no idea what he was meant to do. He felt lost.

The only thing that did register, as Peaches drove off, was that he was fairly sure she'd taken half of him away with her.

**Holy heart-broken Cullen, Batman!**

**Please don't worry. There is method to my madness and it will all work out. Promise.**

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**TTFN xxx**


	23. Chapter 23

**Hello my young PAW lovers. Hope you are all well.**

**Again huge thanks to my Twitter girls, the PAW Princesses. You make my days sunny and smiley. I can't thank you enough for all your support!**

**Part of this chapter came about even before I had the whole story concocted in my head. It was dreamt up while I was sleeping in my FFn wife's spare room! I then told her about it and…well, let's just say…she had a 'reaction'.**

**So, this one's for you, Rachel1313. I lubs ya hard, bb. Thank you for your never ending support!**

**This song needs to be listened to during the club scene. Just sayin' www(.)youtube(.)com/watch?v=wH5Xk_G9sJM**

**No UST rating but more of a throb rating courtesy of Rachel and attention h00r on Twitter! Rating: 9**

**See you on the other side!**

**Chapter 22: Shooting for the Moon**

_Obstacles are those frightful things you see when you take your eyes off your goal. ~ _**Henry Ford**

Cullen rode home on his precious _Kala,_ in a complete fog of perplexity and anger.

_Lipstick_.

Goddamn lipstick.

Goddamn motherfucking, cock sucking, piece of shit, lipstick.

Why the _fuck_ hadn't he checked himself in a mirror?

_Oh yeah, because I'm an arrogant fucking tool!_

_Why?_ Why did it have to be today that Rosalie had visited? Why had it been today that she kissed him and Peaches saw the mark of it? Why was it today that he hadn't stapled his fucking tongue to the roof of his fucking mouth so that he wouldn't say stupid fucking things to the woman that he...nope. _No. No. No._

He revved _Kala_ hard; clearing his mind by filling it with metal, grease and dust, and shot down the highway like a bat out of hell. He'd thought about following Peaches. Thought about doing a Tom Cruise and chasing her car while on his bike, but what the hell would he say when he caught her? You're right, I'm a prick? Yeah, not the best line, Cullen.

The pain in his chest, that had appeared when Peaches had left, was still fucking there and was becoming more acute as the minutes passed.

Maybe he needed an antacid or something?

He had stood, alone and speechless, on the sidewalk that Peaches had left him on, for at least half an hour before he could begin to convince his fucking feet and legs to move. They were weights holding his body up at that point and were apparently useless.

His face had stung as the wind hit the cheek that Peaches had struck, but he wasn't mad about that. How could he be? It simply reminded him what an utter asshole he really was.

How could he have been so fucking insensitive?

_Jealous._ He'd actually accused her of being jealous. And, yeah, maybe she was – just a tiny bit – but that wasn't what had caused the tears that she had cried or the utterly wounded and pained look that he saw on her beautiful face.

That shit was caused because Cullen had played a stupid game with her and had gotten bitten on the ass as a result. Reverse psychology had seen Peaches going to Garrett. _Holy shit._ She'd actually asked about quitting as his tutor. She had laid herself out there, put herself at risk, 'spilled her heart out' she'd said, and all Cullen had done was act like a fucking teenager with a hard-on.

_Perfect Cullen. Well fucking played._

He busted into his apartment, keys and jacket landing where-the-fuck-ever, and stormed with heavy feet over to his freezer. He'd have murdered a fucker for a blunt, but he was due at the clinic for a test in two days, and he didn't want to fail at something fucking else: Grey Goose would have to do.

He poured that shit straight into a glass and shot it back with a click of his tongue. Another followed. And another. He grabbed at the bottle and the glass and made his way over to his sofa where he dropped onto his back and proceeded to glare at the ceiling. He exhaled in frustration and pulled out his cell as it vibrated against his ass.

Jake. _Meeting at bar at 9. You in?_

Cullen considered it for all of two seconds before simply typing: _No._

He wasn't in the mood for company. Alcohol, yes. But he wanted to get steamed on his own. Actually that wasn't true. He'd liked to have had Peaches with him.

_Peaches. His_ Peaches. _Not any more, Dickwad_.

Cullen rubbed his chest again as the pain of – what he could only assume was heartburn or indigestion – flared, hot and burning.

He closed his eyes and saw Peaches once more, standing by her car. Christ, she'd sounded and looked so fucking vulnerable. Cullen was so used to seeing her sass and attitude that it had knocked the wind out of him. He may have been an asshole but he never, ever, ever wanted to be the man responsible for making her cry.

He dropped his forearm over his eyes and exhaled a long breath filled with creative curses.

She had to see that he hadn't meant to sound like a smug bastard. It just came so easily to him. But how could he explain? He wasn't used to running after women or apologising. It wasn't his style, and, truthfully, women always came to him. He wasn't one for grand gestures or terms of endearment; simply because he didn't care enough about anybody to warrant doing either.

But when it came to Peaches; he did care. He cared a lot...

"Fuck it," he grumbled as he picked up his phone and searched through his contacts until he found her number.

He looked at the digits on the screen and immediately felt a tugging in his stomach as though someone had a hold of his intestines and was knotting them up. It was uncomfortable and unnerving as shit.

"Pussy," Cullen mumbled into his palm as he rubbed his face and quickly pressed call. He slammed the phone up to his ear and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, praying that the Gods of competent speech were shining their fucking rays down on his ass.

But he needn't have worried. She didn't pick up. And why the hell would she?

This question prompted shot number four, and that fucker burned.

Undeterred and pushing himself up into a seated position, Cullen found Garrett's number on his phone and pressed dial. It was answered on the third ring.

"Edward."

"Garrett."

"How are yo-..?"

"What did she say to you?"

There was a long pause which had Cullen looking at the screen of his cell to see if they had been cut off.

"G?" Cullen frowned down the phone.

There was a shuffling sound in the background followed by the click of a door closing.

"Who?" Garrett asked in a voice that sounded altogether too innocent.

Cullen snorted. Holy fuck, wasn't _he_ meant to be the criminal liar? "Peaches," he snapped as his patience waned. "She came to see you today. What did she say to you?"

Garrett cleared his throat and breathed heavily down the phone. "If you are referring to Miss Swan," he muttered, "Then I need to know what _you_ know first."

"I know that she came to see you. About me," Cullen replied in a petulant voice that he knew would drive Garrett crazy. But he didn't give a shit.

"I suggest you change your tone if you want me to help you in any way here, Edward," Garrett warned.

Cullen jutted out his chin and rolled his eyes. Ok, maybe he _did_ give a shit. "Fine," he retorted. "Can you _please_ tell me what Peaches said to you today?"

"Why?" Garrett asked quickly.

Cullen was half expecting him to tag on a quick: '_What did you do?_' But he didn't.

Cullen poured another shot and hit it. He dropped the glass onto the table and ran his hand through his hair. "I fucked up," he answered in a rough voice. "And...I need to know how to fix it to...to get her..." – he rubbed his chest – "back, to get her to listen to me.

Cullen could practically hear Garrett frowning. Cullen sighed and then explained in a low, monotone voice what had happened – from Saturday's Central Park disaster, to the moment he hit his sixth shot of Grey Goose, which he did with a loud gasp and groan.

"Getting shit-faced isn't going to help," Garrett stated in a voice that suggested he knew his words would go unheeded.

"Yeah," Cullen replied. "But it makes me feel a fuck load better." He sat back on his couch and leaned his head against the soft cushions. "So, come on, tit-for-tat. What did she say?"

"She's a mess, Edward," Garrett said bluntly. His tone was annoyed and firm. "She doesn't know whether she's coming or going."

_Ditto that shit._

"She wanted to know about quitting as your tutor. She was serious, Edward. No bullshit."

Cullen's hands were in his hair again. His phone was resting on his knee; speaker on. He'd fucked up more than he first imagined. He was a fucking idiot who had played around with the one thing he shouldn't have. The remorse and regret surged through him like a fucking freight train from his chest, to his stomach, and back again.

He was silent for a long time, searching his mind for the answers to the situation. She wanted to be with him. Why else would she have gone to see Garrett? She was willing to take a chance on him and he had thrown it back in her face. Regardless of whether it was intentional or not, his treatment of her had been shitty at best. And she didn't deserve that. She deserved so much more.

"I have to fix this," Cullen murmured. "Tell me how to fix this, Garrett. I haven't a fucking clue what to do and I...I don't like it."

"Have you tried to contact her?" Garrett asked with a long breath.

"Yeah, I called her, but she didn't answer."

"She won't," Garrett said matter-of-factly. "Women need to have their space when they have been hurt by a person that they care about."

_Ouch._

"I didn't mean to..." Cullen muttered; trailing off as the remorse hit again.

"I know," Garrett replied in a clipped, no nonsense manner. "I know you didn't, Edward, but, here's the thing, if you want to fix this then you need to step off, drop the punk ass, and try and behave like a normal person."

Cullen paused and blinked in shock. "Fuck me, G, you wanna start being honest? I'm not sure I like your softly, softly approach." He poured another shot.

"I'm not sugar coating this shit to satisfy your ego," Garrett snapped. "Isabella is a young, beautiful girl who deserves to be treated right."

"I fucking know-"

"And she cares about you. A lot."

Cullen's chin dropped to his chest and his eyes closed as Garrett's words seeped deep into his skull. She did care about him didn't she? She wouldn't have reacted the way she had to the lipstick if she didn't. She wouldn't have given a shit about helping him get parole if she didn't, or met him in Central Park. She wouldn't have let him in her apartment and heard him out, or even...kissed him back.

"You care for her, Edward," Garrett said gently. "Do what feels right."

Cullen cursed and slapped his palms to his thighs. "I can't do the whole flowers and candlelight shit, G. That's not me." Besides the fact that he had never done it before. He hadn't ever been on a real date.

"And it doesn't have to be," Garrett retorted resolutely. "Do what you can do. You know her better than you think. Do what you know she'd want. Be gentle, give her time, but stop pretending like you don't give a shit and man the fuck up!"

Cullen's annoyance spiked but he didn't get a chance to air it as Garrett continued without taking a breath.

"I gotta go, Edward. I have a meeting with Emmett. Let me know how it goes."

Cullen stared at his now silent cell phone as though it had just become animate and offered a high-five. _Well, fuck._ Who the hell knew Garrett had it in him?

Cullen had never heard Garrett speak so passionately about anything before. Sure, he was passionate about his family and the inmates he counselled, but he never got on his soapbox in any way. Diplomatic was how Garrett was usually but, Cullen had to admit, he liked this new improved, no bullshit G.

What he had said had definitely struck a chord with something deep within Cullen. He did care about Peaches – he always had, even before they met again – she had always been one good thing that he had done in his life, and he couldn't lose her. He _wouldn't_ lose her.

He picked up his cell and went to his messages. Be gentle, Garrett had said. Do what you know she would want. Cullen stared at the flashing cursor in the text box and swallowed. She would want him to be honest, right? She would want him to admit to being a fucking idiot.

_I know I'm an asshole but I want to make this right. Will you let me?_

He bit the inside of his mouth as his thumb hovered over the send button. What if she didn't reply? Shit, she'd have to see him on Wednesday for their session; he could ask for forgiveness then.

His thumb pressed send before his brain could even compute it and a huge whoosh of air left his lungs.

"Christ," he mumbled as he slumped back into his seat. Being nearly twenty seven years old and having no real relationship experience with women, was not doing much for Cullen's ego.

Women in general; he had a lot of experience, fuck you very much. The notches on his bed post were a testament to how easily he could charm the panties off of any woman, but that didn't go anyway in helping him deal with the Peaches situation. This was something entirely different.

Yes, he wanted her in his bed; Goddamnit he'd thought of nothing else since they had been reacquainted. But now he wanted more. He wanted to find out about her likes, her dislikes, what made her laugh and cry. He wanted to delve into her brain and learn about what made her tick.

He wanted to know about her memories of him on the night that her father died.

Maybe she didn't even remember that she had been with him – a hooded stranger - in a freezing doorway for nearly two hours?

_Fuck it._

Trying to ignore his cell and its lack of response, Cullen stood up from the sofa and leaned a little to the right: Courtesy of the Goose. He corrected himself quickly and walked over to the corner of the room and the black guitar that was sitting there. He grabbed it by the neck and returned to his seat. It had been a long time since he had played and...Yep, the fucker was _way_ out of tune. He strummed and tuned it for ages, bringing the instrument slowly back to life.

Arranging himself on his couch and, after lighting a cigarette, Cullen began playing: plucking and finding chords and harmonies that worked for him. He was, admittedly, a complete guitar snob. _He_ was damn good at playing – having done so since he was seven – and didn't have time for the punk fuckers who deemed themselves capable of playing. There was a big fucking difference between plucking some simple ass _Oasis_ chords and rocking the hell out of a _Jimi Hendrix_ tune. Those jerk offs knew nothing.

His jam partner was usually Paul so, for now, he would play solo.

With his smoke dangling from his puckered lips, he began to play a tune that seemed to flow through him like water. He'd never heard it before, but it felt so familiar he almost stopped to try and identify it. But he didn't. He kept playing. He played for a long time, finding his rhythm once again with the guitar he'd owned for seven years. The tune was slow, melodic and aching in parts and made Cullen's skin rise up into goose bumps.

The one thought that kept returning to him as he played, was the look on Peaches' face as her palm met his face.

Shit.

He had to make it right with her. He _would_ make it right.

##

By lunch time of the following day, Peaches' still hadn't replied to Cullen's text or call and he was almost climbing the damn walls. He'd almost ripped Seth's head the fuck off on two occasions, and felt like utter shit as a result.

Garrett had told him to be gentle, to step off, and that was fine, but surely she would have the common decency to answer? He sat, cigarette in his mouth and cell in his hand, as if staring at the fucking thing would make her text back sooner.

He looked at the time and inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke at the screen of his cell that was now showing the messages inbox.

_Nothin'. Nada. Fuck all._

"Fuck it," he muttered as he began to type.

He knew that she would be at Arthur Kill, but that didn't mean that she couldn't reply later. This chasing and waiting shit was hard fucking work, but he was determined as all hell.

_Could you at least let me know that you got my text yesterday? I know you're working, but I want a chance to explain._

He pressed send and felt a tightening in his chest. He had no idea what the following day and the session would bring. He felt...anxious. Nervous at the very least and he didn't like it.

"Jesus Cullen, smile why dontcha?"

Cullen rolled his eyes at the sound of Rosalie's voice, but smiled when he lifted his head. She was strutting over to him, away from her car, heels and skirt in place, with a wide smile on her face and a bag in her right hand that was filled with…something that smelled suspiciously like steak cheese sandwiches.

"Well, now I have a reason to," he answered as she kissed him on the cheek. He rubbed furiously at the spot where her lips had touched and moaned in annoyance.

"Christ, woman, do you have to kiss me with that shit on your lips?"

Rosalie snorted in a very unladylike way and made her way into the shop where there was a rapturous collection of moans and shouts at the delights that she had brought. Cullen followed slowly after launching his smoke into the gutter and found six grown men in almost silence as they inhaled their sandwiches.

"For you," Rosalie said to him with a wink as she placed a sandwich into Cullen's eager hands.

"Thanks," he muttered as he opened it and took a huge bite. Fuck, that shit was good.

"So, to what do we owe this pleasure?" Jacob asked through a mouthful of masticated steak and bread.

"I just wanted to see my boys and to invite you all to drinks on Saturday night." She nudged Cullen who smiled with less enthusiasm than he meant to show.

"What's that look for?" asked Rosalie, not missing a damn beat.

Before Cullen could answer, Jake perked up with a - still, very bruised - sardonic expression and a dry tone. _Cock._

"Oh, Cullen has apparently become infected with boring as fuck germs. Isn't that right, Cullen?"

Cullen knew Jake was making a point about Cullen's lack of appearance at the bar the night before, but he couldn't have cared less. He very slowly and gracefully, lifted his right hand and extended his middle finger in Jake's direction. Fucker was just asking for another black eye.

The guys began laughing and sniggering around their food as did Rosalie which garnered the stink eye from Cullen.

"Fucking traitor," he mumbled with a shake of his head.

"Oh come on," Rosalie cried. "It'll be great! When was the last time we all went out together? We'll have a few drinks at your place" –she pointed at Cullen- "and then we'll hit the club."

"Invite yourself why dontcha?" Cullen smiled, mimicking Rosalie's voice.

"Whatever, Edward Anthony," she shot back, knowing that that shit made Cullen's hackles rise like nothing else.

Cullen balled up the wrapper from his sandwich and threw it at Rosalie, smacking her directly in the middle of her forehead. "When do you leave again?" he deadpanned as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Never if you keep that shit up" she replied smarmily. "My girls and I will be at your place for seven on Saturday." And with a sly smile and a flick of her hair, Rosalie Hale sauntered out of the shop as though she owned the fucking place.

Cullen watched her, smiling incredulously as she did.

"She's so fucking hot," Jared muttered as he leaned back on his seat so that he could watch her leave.

Cullen spun around quickly; smacking the smart ass motherfucker around the head with his hand, hard enough to make the boy's eyes shake in his damn head.

"_She_ is out of fucking bounds," Cullen growled with a finger pointed in the kid's face while his other hand held onto the back of the chair Jared was sitting in. "Keep your filthy paws off and your cock behind your fly. Got it?"

The warning in Cullen's stare and the ice in his tone told Jared not to question a word that had come from his mouth. Jared simply nodded and rubbed at the back of his head where Cullen's hand had connected. It was tender to say the very fucking least.

Jake's calm voice severed the tense silence that had settled around the group of men. "He was only playin', Cullen. Relax man."

Cullen pulled his glare from Jared and glanced at Jake who gave him an understanding nod. Cullen gradually stood to his full height and took in a long breath. His lungs just didn't seem big enough, however, and a sudden feeling of claustrophobia began to set in. He fingered the cell phone in his pocket as his mind immediately and inexplicably went to Peaches. His Peaches. _Bella._

_She'd slapped _him_ and she hadn't replied._ Fuck. _What if she never replied?_ _Had he lost her? Why the hell did he care so fucking much?_

Cullen looked around himself as though he had just realised where he was, looking down at a slightly dizzy Jared and then back at Jake. He gripped his hair in his fists and breathed deeply. His whole body started to feel as though it had been crushed under a huge weight. His emotions were all over the fucking place. _Christ._

What the hell was wrong with him?

_You lov-…_

Nope. _No. No. NO!_

Cullen shut the voice in his head down quickly before it said something really fucking ridiculous and rubbed his palms down the sides of his face.

Jake frowned and stood up slowly. "You ok, dude?" he asked gently, dipping his head to the left. Truth was Cullen looked far from ok.

Cullen shook his head. His ears were making a sound he recognised from being under water: A dull roar that could only be the blood that was pounding in his head.

"I…um, I think I need to go home. I um, I'm not feeling so good."

_Yeah, love sick._

_Fuck you._

"You want me to drive you?" Paul asked with a concerned tone. "You look a little sick there, man."

_See._

Cullen shook his head again. The roaring persisted. "I'm good…I'll call you later." In a daze, Cullen turned from the faces of the utterly perplexed men around him and made his way to the office to grab his stuff.

He staggered a little through the door and reached for his jacket and keys. He wasn't surprised to hear Jake behind him as Cullen pulled the jacket over his shoulders.

"You wanna talk about what the fuck just happened?" Jake asked. His words were blunt but his voice was quiet and held no malice or judgement.

"I have no clue," Cullen answered honestly. He turned to face his best friend and shrugged helplessly when words escaped him. "I don't know where my head is at, man, and that's the God's honest truth."

Jake kept his gaze firmly on Cullen's face. The concern he had in his eyes was momentarily hidden by a flicker of recognition which, as Cullen saw it, made him dip his head and fiddle with the zip of his pocket. Jake lifted a scabbed eyebrow.

"Is it the tutor?"

"What?"

Jake crossed his arms slowly over his chest. "You heard me," he said quietly. "Is she fucking with your head?"

If it hadn't been for the undeniable loyalty and protective undercurrent of the words Jake had uttered, Cullen would have jumped instantly to Peaches' defence. Instead he shook his head and twirled his keys around his index finger.

"No," he answered resolutely. The truth was; it was Cullen who had been playing mind games. He exhaled in acceptance of his own idiocy. "She isn't. It's not...She's...I fucked up and I need to make it right."

"Don't let her get in here," Jake demanded, tapping his own temple with his pointer finger. "You do that and you're as good as fucked, my friend."

Cullen let his stare linger on Jake as the determined bitterness oozed from his mouth, and at once felt a wave of sympathy for him. As fiercely defensive as he was in regards to his past with Vanessa and the resulting loss that the two of them had suffered, Jake still resented what had happened and the heartbreak that he had endured. It had made him hard and angry, and his treatment of women since had been disrespectful at best.

It was his way of coping, a defence mechanism, Cullen knew, but it was still difficult to witness; especially when it was Peaches in the firing line of his acerbic tongue.

"I won't," Cullen said, hating the lie that covered the words as they left his fucking mouth.

He clapped Jake on the shoulder and promised to text him later. His best friend didn't need to know that Peaches was already well and truly burrowed inside every nook and cranny of his grey matter. She was the one thing he thought most about and, as much as it drove him damn near distraction, the thought of her was paradoxically calming.

Yep. Jake was right. Cullen was as good as fucked.

##

As he made his way back into his apartment, Cullen's cell phone vibrated in his overall's pocket.

Without even thinking about who the message was from, he pulled the piece of crap out and glanced quickly at the screen.

Holy. Shit.

It was Peaches.

_**I got your text. There is nothing to explain.**_

Bull. Shit.

Goddamn it! As if she thought there was _nothing_ to explain.

If there was nothing to explain, why the fuck had she made off like the Daytona races and ignored his call and text for twenty-four hours. _Nothing to explain my ass._

Cullen strode through to his bedroom, firing off his boots into the corner of the room while pulling his t-shirt over his head. He dropped onto the edge of his bed and stared at the nine words that she had sent to him before texting her back.

_There is a fuck load to explain, Peaches. I know I hurt you. I get it._

_**I'm not hurt. I'm indifferent. It's not my business.**_

Cullen was just about ready to launch his fucking cell phone against the nearest wall. Her sass and apparent 'indifference' over text simply came across as vulnerability. Cullen sighed and rubbed the centre of his chest. He had considered for one quick second about calling her, but he knew she wouldn't answer. It was safer for her to not speak to him directly. He understood that.

_I think it is. _He typed. _You wouldn't be upset if it wasn't and I'm not saying that to be a prick. I spoke to Garrett._

_**When?**_

_Yesterday. I didn't know what to do after you left, so I called him._

_**And?**_

_And I know what you went through yesterday. You see me with my sister's lipstick on my face and you think it's all a game to me. It isn't, Peaches._

_**Sister? You don't have a sister, Cullen.**_

_We're practically family. The point is I want you to know that I'm serious._

_**About what?**_

_You._

Cullen took a huge fucking breath and pressed send.

Three letters had never terrified him so much in his life. But she had to know the truth. He _was_ serious about her. It may have taken her slapping some sense into him and driving away, but he was on point now. He just prayed that they were closer to being on the same page.

The claustrophobia that he had felt, he knew for certain, was caused by the bullshit, pussy footing crap and he was tired of it. She had laid her cards on the table so he had responded in kind.

"Let the damn chips fall where they may," he muttered as he fell back heavily onto his bed with his cell clutched to his bare chest.

His heart thumped hard when he felt it vibrate against his skin. He lifted it slowly as though it were a bomb wired to blow and squinted as he read what she had sent.

_**I'll see you tomorrow. Don't be late.**_

He felt a small smile tug at the sides of his mouth and a breath, which sounded suspiciously like relief, whipped through his lips. He rubbed his palm across his forehead before responding.

_I wouldn't dream of it, Miss Swan._

=PoF=

Almost twenty-four hours later and Isabella Swan was sitting opposite one Edward Cullen, praying to God that her mask of indifference was still in place.

Their hellos at the library door had been fucking torturous. Awkward would have been acceptable but, the ugly truth was, she really didn't know how to act around him. Which was fucking ridiculous. She'd known him for months now and just because he had said he was 'serious' about her, didn't mean that she could get away with acting like a complete idiot.

Besides, she was still pissed.

Once she had arrived home, after leaving his dumb ass on the sidewalk Monday evening, she had called Jamie, grabbed a bottle of Gin and gone to work on that fucker like there was no tomorrow. Jamie had been a little concerned, but, luck for him, he hadn't pushed her and that was fine. They had talked cautiously and politely about work and Victoria and had ordered Chinese.

Jamie had had to carry her to bed after she had passed out, but again, it was all fine.

_Fine. Fine. Fine._

For fuck's sake - Isabella ran an agitated hand through her hair - that had been her mantra for two fucking days. Even when Cullen had called and sent her the first of two text messages, she had found momentary peace in the decline and delete buttons on her cell.

Even the texts from Peter - of which there had been three - were answered briefly or not at all. She would deal with that later. It was only fair to speak to Peter face to face about her recent behaviour and tell him that she wanted to just be friends. _Fuck._ The guy didn't deserve her nonsensical actions in his life. She couldn't keep using him to block out what she truly wanted. He deserved more. Much more. _Fuck._

At work the previous day, it had been the second text from Cullen that had been Isabella's undoing.

It had sounded almost pleading. Isabella wasn't interested in his so called explanation but the fact that he was worried that she hadn't received his text certainly pulled at her more merciful, I-give-a-shit parts.

And that's when he had told her. _His sister._

It really shouldn't have mattered to Isabella one iota that he had had lipstick at the corner of his mouth. It really shouldn't have mattered to her, what he had been doing while she was putting her career on the line by going to see Garrett, and it really shouldn't have affected her so much when she found out that it was his 'sister' who placed the shocking red stain on his skin.

But whatever. It had and it did.

He had seemed so blasé about the entire thing and Isabella had slapped him for being so damned arrogant and conceited. Even though she had never struck anybody in her life or supported violence of any description, she had to admit, it had made her feel better.

As she'd thought about it more, later on that evening, while Jamie watched her with confusion and worry etched all over his face, a small part of her had hoped that it had hurt him.

At least the two of them would be feeling the same thing if it had, Goddamn it.

One epiphany that she had had, as she drank her body weight in Gordon's, was that she was in deep with Cullen, and she was sick to fucking death of pretending like she wasn't. She had said far too much to him, as they had stood face to face by her car, but hell, it was too late to take any of it back now. And in truth, she was glad she had because it had clearly changed something in Cullen.

He was usually so cool, calm and confident around her, giving nothing away, but as soon as he had looked at Isabella when he walked into the library, he had seemed so much smaller than his broad, six-two frame.

She couldn't lie. She had been overcome with the desire to hug him, just like she had when she had seen the crushed expression on his face when she had struck him.

And dammit, it was _so_ good to see him.

Isabella shifted in her seat and brought herself back to the moment and the fact that Cullen was reading Hemingway in his low, sexy voice. He was sitting with his right ankle resting on his left knee: black jeans, boots, grey _Greenday_ t-shirt, tattoos, and a black beanie that covered his auburn hair: Masculine, sexy and broad. He was beautiful.

She cleared her throat when he looked up at her, as if sensing her staring at him, and paused in his reading. She felt her cheeks warm and averted her eyes back to the page.

Cullen frowned gently before he continued: '_"__I had treated seeing Catherine very lightly, I had gotten somewhat drunk and had nearly forgotten to come but when I could not see her there I was feeling lonely and hollow."'_

"Ok, stop there," Isabella said as she laid her copy of the text face down on the desk between them, alongside the Oreo box and can of Coke that Cullen had brought.

Cullen stretched his arms above his head, showing a small sliver of white stomach and a black band of underwear that made Isabella's mouth dry. Isabella pushed a sheet across to him and pointed at it with the end of her pen.

"Ok, in regards to the last few pages, what do you notice about the change in Henry's attitude towards Catherine?"

Cullen seemed to fidget slightly in his chair and his fingers became wedged under the edge of his beanie as he scratched his head. His eyes flickered to hers almost as though he were embarrassed in some way.

"He's um, he's confused by his feelings," he answered eventually. He picked up his can of Coke and took a long sip.

"How do you know that?" Isabella asked as she watched his Adam's apple dip and rise in his throat.

"Because he misses her...when um, when she's not there."

His eyes met Isabella's for a split second, but that was enough time to send a burning hot dagger of desire straight through her centre. This was more than unfair. No matter what obstacles there were or dangers that Isabella noted of their being together; her yearning for him never abated. Fuck, if anything it got more intense. The two of them seemed to connect and click on so many levels that it would be a fool to deny the chemistry. I am a fool, she thought to herself.

She swallowed and leaned forwards in her seat. "How do you know that he's confused?"

Cullen smiled a little with the right corner of his mouth; a knowing look shimmering across his high cheek bones. "A hunch," he looked down at the text. "And also the fact that he feels _'hollow'_." He paused again and scratched at his jaw. "He's…he's empty without her."

His green gaze lifted gradually from Hemingway's words and connected with Isabella's.

What she saw made her heart almost stop.

Usually, when Cullen looked at her, Isabella saw raw sex and lust. He was a sexual creature, of that there was no doubt. It always tinged his irises, making them a deep sea green. That was still there, but more prevalent than that was a remorseful haze that surrounded every inch of his pupils. It was so clear Isabella knew, without him saying a word, how he was feeling. And she felt exactly the same.

She had no idea how long they sat - simply looking at one another, lost in one another - and only became aware of where she was, when Cullen touched her. His palm was warm and comfortable on the back of hers and the hot fizz of energy that was always present between them, seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

It felt like forever since they had touched.

Cullen sat forward in his seat, his eyes trained on hers. She watched as he licked his lips, but it wasn't sexual, it was as though he was taking a moment to gather himself.

"Bella," he said softly as his thumb smoothed its way across her skin. He took a deep breath and looked at the table to where their hands were joined. "I'm sorry."

The small sob that left Isabella surprised her enough for her to cup her free hand to her mouth. Cullen immediately moved closer to her, off his seat, until he was almost kneeling at her side. He made no move to touch her – more than holding her hand - and for that Isabella was grateful.

"I'm so sorry for being such a fucking asshole," Cullen continued.

Isabella nodded and sniffed back her tears as best as she could. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have hit you."

Cullen shrugged. "I deserved it. I was an arrogant fuck." He looked up at her. "I never would have said what I did about...you being jealous if I'd known that you had been to Garrett."

He lifted his left hand and traced a thumb underneath her eye, catching the small tears that were threatening to spill.

"Shit, Bella. I'm sorry I made you cry," he whispered. "I don't ever want to be..._that_ guy."

Isabella looked him directly in the eye and shook her head. "You're not."

A look of surprise washed over Cullen's face but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He exhaled, his smoky, chocolate breath caressing Isabella's face, and his shoulders sagged slightly.

"Can we start over?" he asked gently, almost pleadingly. His tone was, for Isabella, a little unnerving. "I mean, can we just," he paused. "Can we just forget everything that has happened these past couple of days and just...I dunno...be?"

Isabella smiled a little. She couldn't deny that his words made her stomach clench.

"I'd like that," she replied as a small laugh slipped from her lips.

"What?" Cullen smiled back at her.

Isabella shook her head. "Nothing, it's just...it's weird not yelling at you."

After a brief pause Cullen chuckled too. "Well, fuck, I'll let you yell at me if it'll make you feel better, Peaches?"

Isabella laughed more and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sure it's just a momentary lapse in our usual repartee. I won't get too excited."

Cullen gave a sly grin, and Isabella swallowed as the deep green spread across his irises. "I like it when you yell at me." He sniffed, "Just sayin'."

Isabella rolled her eyes and matched his smile. "I know you do. Weirdo."

Cullen laughed a deep, warm sound that made Isabella's heart expand. Christ, he was even more beautiful when he wasn't so damn brooding and dark.

He looked up at her and gave a quick, endearing wink. "So, are we ok?" he asked as he gave her hand a small squeeze.

Isabella looked down at him and smiled as she felt her chest swell in the knowledge that they were, in fact, ok.

"Yeah, we are," she replied. "We're good."

Cullen looked at her for another moment, seemingly wanting to say something, but instead, he lifted from his haunches and sat back in his seat. Isabella watched him as he brought an Oreo to his mouth and began licking.

Damn cookies and their sexual innuendos.

"So," she said as she wiped her hands against her skirt and then wiped discreetly at her face, trying like hell to make herself look reasonably presentable, "Sister, huh?"

Cullen grinned and nodded. "Not by blood." He dropped the licked piece of cookie onto the table and picked up his pen, tapping out a slow beat. "Rosalie and I have known each other since we were kids. She's back in the city working and I hadn't seen her for a while." He pointed to his face, "Hence the um...the lipstick."

Isabella dropped her eyes to the table between them and twisted her hands together. She felt her face heat like it had when he had walked into the library on Monday with the fucking stuff on his face. She_ had_ been jealous. _Crazy_ jealous. Claw a bitch's eyes out kinda jealous, and that was just...stupid?

"I _was_ jealous," she blurted with no thought, rhyme or reason. _Oh. Shit_.

Her wide eyes shot to Cullen's and stayed there for a fucking age. He didn't say anything or react. He didn't even look surprised. He simply looked calm. His face was gentle and held no judgement and that had to have been a good sign, right?

Isabella cleared her throat of the mortification that was lodged there and twisted her hands even more. "You were right, Cullen, and I'm sorry. I had no right to be."

Cullen shook his head and smiled. His cheeks were tinged a soft pink that made him look even more stunning. "It's ok, Bella," he said eventually in a low, soft and sexy voice. "After what was said in your apartment...fuck it, after everything...I'd probably react the same way."

Well, that definitely made Isabella feel better. The fact that he had admitted to it too made parts of her body tighten and purr. She liked the thought of him being possessive over her. She liked the thought of belonging to him. Sure, she wasn't going to win any feminist of the year awards, but to hell with that. Bullshit aside; that was what she wanted. She wanted to be owned by him. She scoffed inwardly. Like that wasn't the case already?

Isabella's attraction towards Cullen was slowly turning into something more; something scary and irrevocable. The feeling of absolute devastation that had flowed through her as she had driven away from him, put paid to that. She was tired of denying it, of course, but she still had to tread a careful and wary path.

The clicking of Mrs Cope's heels on the marble floor brought Isabella back from her musings and to the realisation that it was time to leave. Isabella lifted from her seat, as Cullen did the same. She noticed him smiling, as charming a smile as Isabella had ever seen, in the direction of the old librarian, whose exceedingly annoyed eyes were on his half empty box of Oreos.

"I need brain food," Cullen explained with a crooked, I-look-like-sex grin.

Mrs Cope, however, was apparently immune. "Make sure you clean up," she barked, before storming back to her desk.

Isabella snorted behind her hand as Cullen blinked at the woman's retreating form.

"Fuck me, and I thought _you _were bossy," he muttered as he began clearing.

Isabella ignored the predictable jibe and pulled a folder full of papers from her bag. "Do you want these now or on Friday?" she asked as she placed them onto the table.

Cullen frowned before cocking one eyebrow back up. "And what are 'these'?" he asked as he slid the folder towards himself.

"Your resources for next week," she replied.

Cullen looked back at her, still seemingly confused.

"I'm going away," she said quietly, a strange tension creeping up her back, "With my family…to Washington State." She let her finger tips dance nervously along the edging of the table. "We do it every year. I'll be out of town from Sunday to Sunday."

Cullen's face looked different. He didn't look pissed but he didn't look happy. He slowly slid his hands into his pockets and sighed, "Um...yeah, ok." His frown was tight above the bridge of his nose and his voice had lost its playfulness.

"Just do what you can," Isabella said quickly, trying to distil the weird atmosphere that had settled. "I've set you some more reading, questions and we need to talk about an assessment paper for you to take..."

She trailed off as Cullen's dark, sombre gaze met hers.

"Text me," she said firmly without thinking. "Or call me...if you need any help. Don't hesitate…I…yeah, just…just call me."

Cullen looked down at the folder and nodded. "I will," he replied quietly.

Isabella tried to smile but it was harder work than she expected. Leaving to be with her family at this time of the year was one thing; leaving Cullen for a whole week was another. She suddenly felt very..._hollow_.

"It'll be great for you. Think of all the earache you will save yourself with me gone for a whole week." Isabella laughed lightly but it sounded off and echoed oddly against the high book cases at the right of where they were standing.

Cullen's mouth twitched but his frown remained. "One less headache," he offered.

Isabella nodded and pulled her bag up her shoulder. "Come on. We'd better go before Mrs Cope comes back and sees your Coke can. Heaven help us."

Luckily, Cullen d_id_ find that particular comment funny and grabbed the offending article before following Isabella out of the library.

=PoF=

Cullen was edgy: Edgy, anxious and fucking miserable to be quite honest.

He'd been that way since he had said a heinously awkward goodbye to Peaches on the steps of the library on Friday, after their last session for a whole fucking week.

When she had told him that she was going away, his entire body had felt like it was in free fall. It was ridiculous and unnecessary, but fuck it if he couldn't make it stop.

He took a huge gulp from the fifth bottle of Corona that had been placed in his hand by Rosalie and rubbed a finger along his eyebrow as he caught her smiling at him from across the bar. He smiled back but he couldn't make it last. Not when he was mulling over Peaches being away for a week.

Apparently she was going to Washington State – what the hell for, God alone knew - which meant that he would have to do all his work at home. Alone. Without her.

Fuck's sake. He was officially a pussy. Maybe he'd have some foam fingers made that read: _Edward Cullen – Pussy Extraordinaire._

Seriously, seven days. How fucking hard could it be? He only saw her three times a week anyway, so technically it was only the six hours that they spent in the library together that he would be missing. Big. Fucking. Deal.

But, fuck, it _was_ a big fucking deal, especially when the two of them had seemed to be back on track and actually being civil to each other again.

To say that it had taken effort to apologise to Bella would have been a gross fucking understatement. Cullen never apologised. _Ever._ To anyone. Strange thing was, however, once he had decided to say the word to her, it had slipped freely, making the build up seem fucking senseless. Cullen _was_ sorry for what he had done, for being a prick, for being insensitive and childish and seeing Bella's reaction to it had made it all worth while. She'd clearly appreciated it.

She had apologised too, for hitting him, and that had done funny things to his chest, but he'd managed to refrain from rubbing it as was his apparently new found tic.

Bella had also admitted that she had been jealous and, as much as Cullen would ordinarily dance on the fucking tables while shouting a huge fucking _I-told-you-so_, he had felt nothing but warmth. Warmth and guilt. Right or wrong, that was how it was.

Her vulnerability made him feel even worse. She was clearly as messed up as he was in terms of the…feelings that were bouncing around and even though it should have made Cullen feel better, it really didn't. The warmth had made him want to ease her. To touch her. And not in the Biblical sense. He'd wanted to…hold her.

He gulped his drink again. Yep. _Pussy Extraordinaire._ T-shirts could be made. Shit.

Rosalie landed heavily on the leather couch at the side of him. "What's up your ass, Cullen?" she asked above the music.

Cullen saw Jared's eyes linger on her legs. He kicked at the fucker's chair, making him jump like a Jack rabbit before hauling balls towards the bar. Paul and Seth laughed at Cullen's side as they watched the pathetic display.

"Nothin'," Cullen replied, leaning his arm along the back of Rosalie's seat, "You havin' a good time?"

"Don't deflect," she demanded with a stern stare. "Is it because we're in this club?"

The club that she was referring to was the club in which Jake had had his ass handed to him a week before. It really _didn't_ bother him, but it hadn't stopped Cullen from scouring the crowd for Marcus's melon head just so he'd have an excuse to lay the fucker out. _Bastard._

He smiled. "No, _Rosie_, I'm great, honestly."

She visibly bristled at the nick name. "Don't call me that!"

Cullen laughed and chinked his bottle to her cocktail glass. "Where _is_ Jake?" he asked, narrowing his eyes towards the dance floor and then back at the bar.

"Outside having a smoke," she replied with a wave of her hand, "With my friend Holly." She rolled her own blue eyes and gave a knowing smirk. Son-of-a-bitch worked fast. "It's about time we found _you_ a woman, Cullen. I'm sick of seeing you hittin' and quittin'."

Cullen gasped and clutched at his chest in mock hurt. "I would never do that," he insisted. He winked at Rosalie and finished his beer. "I don't need a woman. Too much like hard work and fucking trouble."

Besides, he didn't just want _any_ woman. He wanted one very _specific_ woman.

He exhaled and ran his hand through his hair as Paul set down another round of drinks. He grabbed eagerly at the Jack and Coke and took half of that shit down in one. Yep. That was what he needed.

He turned his head slowly to see Rosalie staring at him in a way that made his ass shift in its seat. "What?" he asked looking around himself.

"You already have someone, don't you?"

_Shitshitshit…_

Cullen scoffed and snorted and added a head shake for good measure. "Christ, Rosalie, gimme a break."

Instead of backing off as he'd hoped Rosalie crossed her legs and moved closer to him, her expression screaming with satisfaction. "You sly dog," she murmured. "Who is she? Do I know her?"

Cullen immediately dropped the incredulity and became defensive. His eyes narrowed, his shoulders tensed and he could feel the hackles on his neck rising. Rosalie could obviously sense it too as her expression changed quickly to one of love and concern.

"I just worry about you is all," she explained with a shrug of her small shoulders.

Cullen exhaled and immediately felt bad for giving her the stink eye. "I know," he replied as he nudged her shoulder. "It's just…fuck, it's complicated."

Rosalie nodded and smiled gently. "As long as she treats my boy right," she said firmly. "I don't wanna have to lay a bitch out." She lifted her right hand. "I've just had my nails done."

Cullen laughed and nodded before pulling her into a tight hug. "I know you got my back," he said through a smile.

Rosalie smacked his chest and pushed him away. "You may mock, but you know I would be there for you."

Her face instantly lost its light and with a deep fury that rose through her cheeks and burned through her eyes. "After…you helped me…" She looked at Cullen in a way only he was familiar with. She took a deep determined breath. "I owe you my life, Cullen. Don't doubt that I will see that debt settled at some point. I promise."

Cullen swallowed at the rage before him and nodded. "I know, Rose. Its ok, honey, I know."

Like a switch had been flipped, Rosalie flicked her hair, sipped her drink and jumped up from her seat. She held her hand out for Cullen to take. "Dance with me." She ginned.

Cullen barked a laugh that yelled you-out-of-your-fucking-mind-woman and sat back in his seat. "No."

"Oh, come on, you boring bastard!" She pushed her hand further under his nose. "You're a great dancer. Come on!"

Cullen looked at Paul and Seth with begging eyes to which they simply laughed and shot back a ton of abuse about him being a pussy assed bitch. HA! If only they fucking knew.

He threw down the rest of his drink, cursed and took Rosalie's hand to a round of applause from the guys. Cullen didn't hesitate in flipping them the bird as Rosalie dragged him onto the dance floor, through a wall of hot, sweating and gyrating bodies. Luckily, the club played some pretty sweet music and the song that began, as Cullen took his place opposite Rosalie, was _Jay-Z/Linkin Park,_ _Encore_.

This suited Cullen to the motherfucking ground as it only required slight bobbing on his part as Rosalie sang the _Linkin Park_ parts at the top of her voice.

He wasn't a bad dancer, in fact, out of all of the guys, Cullen was the best, but he really had to be in the mood. He was quite happy mouthing _Jay-Z _word for word while Rosalie danced around him, garnering cock induced stares from the men around her, which Cullen batted right the fuck back with his height and don't fuck vibe.

He couldn't help but feel relieved when Jake and Rosalie's friend appeared with Paul. They danced with Cullen and Rosalie until the place erupted when _Encore_ finished and _Blackstreet and Dr Dre_ started busting from the speakers singing _No Diggity_.

Rosalie and Paul began grinding as did Jake and his new flavour. Cullen danced, oblivious to being the fifth wheel. _Play on player._ The tune was epic and he wasn't going anywh-

Holy. Mother. Of. Fuck.

Cullen came to a grinding halt and blinked twice to try and clear his vision. _Shit._ It couldn't be. Could it?

Cullen almost broke his fucking neck as he tried to see - over and around the bodies between them - the small brunette who was dancing about twenty feet away from him. _Oh God._

It _was_ Peaches.

And fuck him running if she wasn't wearing the sexiest fucking dress he had ever seen. It was black and silk and dipped so low at the back that he could almost see the dimples above her ass. _Christ._ And a bare back meant only one fucking thing. No bra.

His cock was suddenly biting through the buttons on his fly to get at her and his heart thumped like a damn hammer in his chest. _I can't get her outta ma mind. I think about the girl all the time._ Peaches was dancing. Oh, holy fuck was she_ dancing_. Her body moved like it was fluid: graceful and flowing. My God she was fucking beautiful. Her hair was up in a slight twist that was sexy and elegant and the heels she wore would have looked fucking amazing…on Cullen's shoulders.

He licked his lips and smiled as he saw her dip and mime the words to the song. Her hands moved against her hips which was just fucking wrong. It should have been Cullen's hands. He managed to drag his eyes from her to see that she seemed to be dancing with a small blonde girl who was seemingly involved with a tall guy who had his hands on her waist. She was cute but, fuck, Peaches looked like sex. No, scratch that. She looked like hot, raw, against the wall fucking and Cullen immediately wanted all over that shit.

And apparently so did the guy standing at Peaches' left.

Cullen felt a growl build in his chest and his fists tightened at his thighs as he saw the cock sucker walk towards her, adjusting his shirt as he did.

Oh, no, motherfucker. _Mine._

Before he could think about it, Cullen was pushing his way through the crowd towards Peaches and the prick who clearly didn't like his head on his goddamn shoulders. Cullen had never felt so fucking possessive about anything in his life and the adrenaline was a thing of beauty. He felt invincible and determined to make the guy pay for touching his woman.

Just as the prick reached out for Peaches waist, Cullen grabbed his wrist and twisted it. Hard. Prick stumbled as Cullen pushed him backwards and his eyes widened when he saw the ferocious look on Cullen's face. Cullen leaned in closely to the fuck's ear to make sure that he heard every word.

"You do not fucking touch, asshole. You do? I'll rip your arm from the socket. Back. The. Fuck. Off."

Prick didn't even argue as Cullen released him and mouthed: 'Fuck off.' He didn't need telling twice. Cullen exhaled his growl as the fucker slinked off into the depths of the crowd before he turned around towards Peaches. Luckily she hadn't noticed the exchange or him which was perfect for what he had planned in his mind. Granted his mind was currently three feet from his skull, but what the fuck ever.

He moved behind her and slowly lifted his hands. The blonde that Peaches was with, noticed his move. Her face was a picture as she took Cullen in from head to feet, wanting and hungry, but Cullen couldn't have given a shit. All he cared about was touching the delicious creature in front of him. Peaches, however, sensed that someone was behind her and made to spin around. Cullen grabbed the tops of her arms, holding her in position – facing away from him – and leaned into her ear. Oh fucking Jesus, she smelled incredible.

"Do you know what you are doing to every man in this club, Peaches?"

He felt her whole body stiffen in his hands and he was sure he heard a gasp. He loosened his grip on her arms and let his palms slide slowly down to the crooks of her elbows. He smiled when he saw goose flesh pop up all over her and pulled her back against him.

"Do you know what you are doing to me, Peaches?"

He hands moved even further down, over her forearms to her wrists and then to her hands. Cullen paused, waiting for her to tell him to stop, praying to everything that was holy that she wouldn't. Instead, she turned her head slightly towards his so that her nose grazed the right side of his jaw. His cock twitched.

"What do I do to you, Cullen?" she purred as she twisted her fingers in between his and squeezed their hands against her stomach.

Well, fuck.

"You make me want to commit fucking murder against every fucker who's looking at you and thinking about touching you."

He felt her moan and saw the twists of a smile on her lips. Her plump, glossy lips.

"Are you jealous, Cullen?" she asked softly as she moved her hips, oh so fucking slowly against him.

He pushed back and that time he did hear the gasp that she released when his cock pressed against her luscious ass. Hell, what was the point in hiding it? And, not to be a prick, but there was too much down there to hide successfully.

"So fucking jealous," he replied as he moved his nose further into her hair, breathing the awesome scent of sweet, juicy peaches. "Can you feel it?" He pushed against her again and moaned deep in his throat when she rotated her hips in reply.

_Premature ejaculation coming up. No pun intended._

Holy fuck, she oozed sex like it was her fucking job.

He slowly released his hands from her but kept his palms flat against her silk covered stomach. He edged them gradually outwards until he came to her small hips. He clutched onto them, holding her against him and dipped to the music. Cullen couldn't hold back his groan as she started dancing, pressing herself into him and leaning her head to his so that they were nose to cheek.

Peaches' hands found his and grasped them as she moved a little faster. _I like the way you work it. No Diggity. I 'bout to bag it up._

"What are you doing, Peaches?" he croaked as her mouth breathed hot air against his neck.

"I'm dancing with you, Cullen. Why? What does it feel like?"

It felt like he was about to cum in his pants is what it felt like. Christ alive, one swivel of her hips and he was seventeen again.

"It feels fucking perfect," he replied as his hands moved up her sides so that his thumbs were brushing the undersides of her breasts.

Oh, fuck what he would give to feel them. To feel her nipples tightening under his finger tips. To have his mouth on them. To taste the skin all over her immaculate body.

He ground his hips into her again as they both moved down to the floor and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. Her response was to lean her head back onto _his_ shoulder and curl her arms upwards and behind his neck.

_Yes, baby. I want it too. So fucking much. _

Cullen growled into her neck as she pulled on his hair. They were moving from side to side, Peaches' ass perfectly placed in his crotch as he moved his hands up and down the sides of her body. When his palms reached the edge of her dress on her thighs, he was bold enough to let his fingertips dance across her soft skin. She gripped his hair tighter and moaned.

Fuck's sake, he needed her naked. He needed her wet and open and crying out his name.

"I want you," he murmured into her ear, before placing another kiss under her lobe. "Goddamn it, Bella, I want you so fucking much."

She moved her face further around so that they were nose to nose, looking him straight in the eye and smiled like a fucking vixen. "I want you too," she whispered.

_Taxi for two motherfuckers. _

Cullen spun Peaches around, grasping her small hand in his and pulled her fast and hard towards a dark corner of the club. He eyeballed the asshole that was standing near where he wanted at in such a way, that the dude shifted as though his ass were on fire.

Cullen pulled Peaches to his side and pushed her against the wall, nose to nose, his hands against the wall at either side of her head.

"Say it again," he demanded as he watched her lick her lips.

"What?" she asked; her eyes wide and glazed from whatever she had been drinking.

"Tell me that you want me," he ordered. His heart was racing and his cock was throbbing with every beat of the music. "I need to hear that shit, Bella. You have no fucking idea."

"I want you," she replied in a firm, determined voice that sent shivers up Cullen's spine.

Before she could get another word out of her mouth, Cullen grabbed her face and crushed his mouth to hers. Her hands were immediately in his hair, tugging and pulling while their tongues were pushing from his mouth to hers. She tasted incredible. Jesus, he'd almost forgotten how good she felt. He ground into her like a prick but, shit, he couldn't help it. He needed friction against her. He wanted in her.

They kissed and he breathed her in. His lungs felt a million times bigger and he was quietly aware that his chest pain and the claustrophobia had disappeared. Her scent dazed Cullen in such a way that he almost didn't hear his name being called. Three times.

He pulled back, placing gentle kisses along her jaw line. "What, baby?" he groaned against Peaches' lips.

"It wasn't me," she said as she turned her head towards where the voice had come from.

Confused, Cullen turned to see Paul standing looking awkward but concerned.

"What?" Cullen snarled, suddenly feeling protective of the woman in his arms.

"I'm sorry, man," Paul stuttered. "It's Rosalie. She's drunk and I don't think she's taken her meds…I…It's a bad one, Cullen. She's asking for you. We can't calm her down."

Cullen's heart dropped and his mouth went dry. "I'll…shit, I'll be there."

Paul nodded, smiled an apology at Peaches, and left.

Cullen let go of Peaches' waist and slammed a palm against the wall. How could she be so reckless. "Fuck!"

Peaches grabbed his face. "Hey!" Cullen pulled back slightly. "It's ok, Cullen. Look at me."

How could he refuse her?

Her eyes were soft but demanded no bullshit. "If she needs you, go to her."

He dropped his forehead to hers. "But I need you."

He felt her smile against his cheek. "I know, but…"

Cullen pressed his lips to hers again but pulled away just as quickly. "No buts, Bella. For the love of God please, no buts."

She laughed lightly and rubbed her right hand down the side of his face. The comfort he took from her touch was indescribable. "What I was going to say was it would be impossible to do…anything tonight."

Cullen couldn't help but feel crushed.

"I leave in the morning and you have a sister to look after. Tonight is not the night."

He knew she was right. He knew that Rosalie needed him. He knew that taking Peaches home and fucking her seven ways from Sunday was not the way he wanted to go. But, fuck, couldn't they catch a break?

"Will you…will I hear from you next week?" he asked and Christ if he didn't sound like a moaning bitch as he did.

"Sure," she answered gently as her eyes roamed his face. He liked the way it felt as she did. "I think we need to have a long talk."

Cullen nodded even though her words made him feel cold. "Ok," he conceded and then groaned in frustration. "I gotta go. I'm sorry."

"Go," she said with a soft smile that melted his heart. "I'll see you soon."

Without a pause his mouth met hers again, nipping and sucking desperately at her lips. He pushed from the wall, knowing that that was all that would get him away from her. He moved back.

"Be safe," he ordered with a pointed finger. "Text me when you get home tonight."

Peaches laughed and saluted him.

"I mean it," he said firmly, no hint of playing in his voice.

The smile dropped quickly from her face. "Ok, Cullen. I will. I promise. Go and look after Rosalie."

Cullen nodded quickly and walked back across the club dance floor towards where they had been seated.

Jake was standing waiting for him, looking pale as all hell and the two of them left through the back doors to where Rosalie was crouched against the wall of the club, crying and shaking in a way that would terrify anyone who had never seen her that way before.

Cullen's heart constricted in his chest. _Oh God, Rosie._

As soon as she saw Cullen and he crouched at the side of her, she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder.

"I've got you," he murmured into her hair, rocking her gently from side to side. "Shh, Rose. It's ok, Sweetheart. I've got you."

**Holy fucking grinding in the club makes my clit throbbity throb, Batman!**

**I hope that wet your *cough*panties*cough* appetites.**

**Plenty more to come from these two, with Peter and Alice making a ****big ****appearance in the next chapter. OH SHIT!**

**I know some of you may think I'm being a nasty cockblock, but I can assure you I am anything but. Things have to happen in this story before Tab A enters Tab B. So please try and understand?**

**Follow me on Twitter: (at)sophiejax**

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**Leave me love…or hate**

**TTFN xxx**


	24. Chapter 24

**Hello my PAW lovelies! I am here and alive.**

**I have had a shiteous week of RL, hence the delay in posting, but here we are! Thank you for your patience. **

**Love to my girls on Twitter. You complete me.**

**And thank you to all the new readers that have joined the PAW party courtesy of all the awesome pimpage that has been going on – feathers_mmmm and deJeanSmith, I thank you muchly.**

**This is a ****mammoth**** chapter – the biggest so far – and is pretty tough in some places. Be warned.**

**See you on the other side...**

**Chapter 23: Remember Me - Act One**

**7 years ago...**

"_Rosalie Hale!" Cullen barked loudly at the young nurse who was sitting behind a large computer and an even larger stack of papers._

_The girl's face was a mixture of shock and fear as she swallowed and quickly typed the name - that was still echoing around the hospital entrance - onto the keyboard in front of her._

"_Room 123," she answered meekly. "But-"_

_But Cullen wasn't listening to anything but the number as he bolted from the desk and hurtled towards the elevators. He punched the button, three fucking times, calling the damn thing down, but gave up with a loud curse before setting off at a sprint, up the stairs, that were located at the end of the hallway._

_He was just about ready to kill a motherfucker when, after three minutes of searching, he still hadn't found the damn room._

"_Sir?"_

_All the rooms looked the fucking same and none had the numbers 1, 2 or 3 on them!_

"_Sir?"_

_What. The. Hell?_

"_Sir?"_

"_What!" Cullen span around, to be greeted by a small red-haired nurse who jumped back at his hard tone._

"_Who, um…who are you looking for?" she asked quietly while trying to smile. "Can I help?"_

"_Room 123," he spat back. "I was called about Rosalie Hale." He looked around himself and the nurse, glancing frantically at the numbers on the doors on the chance that they may have magically changed to the one he wanted. "They said she was here," he continued with a hand through his hair. "She'd been found…she'd been operated on and-…fuck, look, where is Room 123?"_

"_Are you Edward?" the nurse asked gently as a look of realisation crossed her freckled face._

_Cullen recoiled slightly at his given name, "Yeah. I am. Where is she?"_

_The nurse smiled again, a little wider this time, and gestured for Cullen to follow her along the hallway and to the right. Room 123 was suddenly in front of Cullen and he made to dash towards it. His forearm, however, was caught in the grip of the red-head, who was, apparently, really fucking strong._

"_She's only been out of surgery for a couple of hours," she said firmly. "You need to be quiet and…the operation went fine, but she will be sore and…if she wakes up, very emotional. That young girl has been through hell tonight - the police have already been sent away - and I need to know you will respect the rules of this hospital while you're in there."_

_Cullen's anger spiked, but it wasn't towards the nurse at his side. It was towards the motherfucking cunt who he knew had put Rosalie in the damn hospital. Again._

"_What did…what did he do to her?" he asked. He was surprised when his voice came out shaky and quiet._

_His eyes grew wide as the nurse began to relay all the injuries that Rosalie had come in with: ruptured spleen, serious internal damage, broken ribs. Cullen's eyes grew misty as she explained what the doctors had had to do in order to save her._

_He felt his grip on the door handle increase in seconds and the adrenaline began roaring through his system. That shit dulled the pain he knew he would have been feeling as he thought about what Rosalie had been through. Hell the nurse had said. Cullen wasn't sure that would have even come close._

_Cullen stood silently for a moment, staring at the door, feeling his heartbreak for the woman lying on the other side of it. "I understand," he said finally. "I…I understand."_

_He felt the nurse's grip loosen and, after taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open._

##

Cullen took a long ass drag on his smoke and blew it back down his nose as he watched Rosalie begin to stir under the blanket that he had laid over her while she slept on his couch. Her face was still slightly red from all the tears that she had cried outside of the club, but she at least looked peaceful.

He lifted from his seat slightly and pulled his cell from his jeans pocket: a text. _Peaches_.

**I'm home and fine.**

Cullen smiled and nodded slowly. _You sure are, sweetheart_.

He allowed his index finger to linger along his bottom lip, remembering the feel of her mouth on his. Goddamn the kiss had been incredible. The sensation of her body pressed against his was sublime, and the words that she had uttered to him as they had danced, were sure to be placed on the top shelf of his fucking spank bank: I want you too.

Fuck. _Me._

_I'm glad. Thank you for the dance.___

**You're welcome. Thank **_**you**_**. Is Rosalie ok?**

Cullen's chest tingled and his heart thumped hard. _Twice._ He couldn't explain it, but hearing and seeing his Peaches show concern for Rosalie made his body flush warm.

_Yeah. She's ok. Did you have a good night?_

**I had a great night. Did you?**

_Oh yeah. I just wish it had lasted longer. _

**Me too.**

_Really?_

**Of course, Cullen, I meant what I said.**

And cue hard-on. Goddamn she knew how to push his buttons. Cullen shifted in his seat, glanced quickly at Rosalie who was still sleeping, and began typing back.

_I like that you did. I meant it too. You drive me crazy, Peaches._

**In a good way?**

_Always._

**Good. And just so you know, you drive me crazy too.**

_In a good way?_

**Always.**

"Jesus," Cullen muttered as he rubbed the heel of his hand against his straining crotch. What he would have given for her to have been there to do it for him. _Dammit. _He threw his cigarette into the waiting ashtray.

He typed quickly with a smirk. _Tease._

**Me? Never! I'm sorry, I must go to sleep. I have an early start tomorrow.**

_No problem. Be safe. Sleep well, Tease. _

**Ha! You too, Cullen, call me if you need help with your work next week.**

_Can I not just call you, even if I don't need help?_

**Of course. Speak soon.**

_You bet. Goodnight._

Cullen pressed send and laid his cell phone on the arm of his chair. He reached for his smokes and lit another quickly, wishing to all fuck that it had been post-coital. He couldn't even begin to fathom how to express how calm he felt on the inside after what he and Peaches had shared. It had felt as though he had been talking and communicating with her through frosted glass for the past few months, and it had just now been cleared, leaving them both free to express their feelings without the fear of rejection or denial.

His lungs felt bigger and his mind seemed like it was firing on all cylinders. He felt more aware of what was going on around him; inside of him. He knew there were parts of himself: unknown, unexplored and dormant parts, which whispered certain words in an attempt to label what it was he was actually feeling for Peaches. He had, so far, dismissed them quickly and fervently and had simply continued to lust after her body and mind. He didn't want a goddamn label, he just wanted his Peaches in as many ways as she would allow.

Besides, it was too fucking late at night to deal with that kind of shit.

"You'll give yourself a coronary if you keep thinking so hard."

Cullen looked up from the patch of denim on his thigh that he had been circling with his thumb, to see Rosalie trying to sit up against the arm of the sofa. He smiled lazily at her and extinguished his smoke. He sat forward resting his forearms against his knees.

"How ya doin' kiddo?" he asked gently as she sipped from the water he had left at her side.

She rolled her eyes and wiped at the mascara that was smeared underneath them. "Just great," she replied sarcastically. "I embarrassed myself massively in front of everyone I love and made a complete fucking fool of myself."

"Hey," Cullen snapped softly. "You're not a fool, and no-one said shit. Everyone was just worried about you."

Rosalie sighed and hugged the glass to her chest. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's been a...while since that has happened. I hadn't taken my meds because I was drinking."

Cullen shook his head slowly. "You know you never need to apologise to me, Rose."

Her sullen gaze met his and she gave a slow, minute smile. Cullen returned it with a caring wink.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked as he rubbed his hands against his jeans, "A hot drink? Something to eat, maybe?"

"Milky coffee?" Rosalie asked gingerly behind a knowing smile.

Cullen snorted with nostalgia. She never changed, "Coming right up."

"And some Oreos if you have any!"

"You're pushing your fucking luck, Hale," Cullen called back from the kitchen, but went to the cupboard where he kept his stash of Oreo delights and pulled out a box. She was worth it.

He made their coffees quickly and sat himself down next to her, smiling as Rosalie threw part of her blanket over his knees. They remained in companionable silence before Cullen worked up the courage to speak.

"What triggered it?" he all but whispered.

Cullen knew Rosalie would know exactly what he meant. They had had similar conversations over the years and that shit never got easier. He was willing to step up to the plate and get the ball rolling, however. He knew he couldn't allow Rosalie to start retreating into herself. She'd come a million miles from that and he had promised himself that he would never see her that way again.

"A guy," she began.

Cullen's anger flared instantly and his eyes were immediately on her face. "What fucking guy? What did he say to you? Did he hurt you?"

"No. No, not at all. Chill your beans, dude, seriously." Rosalie's words seemed entirely inappropriate for the situation as was the way in which she patted his arm, but her face showed undeniable gratitude and love.

Cullen took a breath and leaned across the sofa to grab his smokes. He offered one to Rosalie but she shook her head. She shifted at the side of him, bringing her knees up to her chest, while resting her chin on them.

"He looked like...he looked like Royce," she whispered.

Cullen felt his heart stutter and he closed his eyes momentarily. He hated that that fucker still had such control over her, even from beyond the grave. Of course, it was no surprise; even seven years on, no matter how healed the physical scars, Cullen knew Rosalie's emotional ones still ran hella deep.

She had almost died, and, in many ways, she had. Parts of the Rose that Cullen knew were forever lost on the night that Royce had raped and beaten her, simply because she had worn a pretty dress to a party. Cullen clenched his fists and blew the cigarette smoke out from between his teeth.

"Is that all?" he asked gently. Cullen didn't want to sound like an asshole, but her panic attack had seemed a lot more ferocious for it to have simply been caused by a guy who 'looked like' Royce King.

He felt rather than saw Rosalie shake her head. "No," she replied in a small voice that reminded Cullen of a small child. "He was...he was dancing with a girl, a blonde girl, and...and he kept moving his hand over her stomach as though...as though she was..."

_Pregnant._ The unsaid word covered the two of them like a suffocating blanket.

Rosalie buried her face into her knees, her hair creating a golden wall around her. Cullen watched her as she cried, knowing from past experience that hugging or soothing did nothing but exacerbate her sorrow.

Watching her, however, Cullen couldn't help but feel thankful that he had gotten a chance at making Royce feel remorse for what he had done to Rosalie. Cullen wasn't the reason for Royce being six-feet-under, no, his drug habit had taken care of that a week after Rose's attack, but the scars that could be found across the fuckers back, skull and scrotum were courtesy of Cullen and a few friends.

Cullen had never thought it possible that a man could scream, until that night. It had been music to the sadistic side of Cullen's ears. Whatever. The cunt had deserved it and Cullen would do it again in a heartbeat, even if he had served a short time for it. Not that the fuckers ever proved it was him, circumstantial evidence can be a bitch.

Cullen let his palm settle on Rosalie's shoulder and sighed. "You need sleep, Rose. D'ya...ya wanna take my bed?"

He smiled when he heard Rosalie snort, knowing exactly what was to come. She lifted her head and looked at him as though he were crazy.

"You're bed?" she asked incredulously. Cullen shrugged. "Please, Cullen, you never give your bed up or allow anyone in your bed for shit." She pulled the covers hard from under him. "I'm fine here." Her expression changed to shyness, "If that's ok?"

Cullen rolled his eyes and moved to place a soft kiss on her forehead, "Of course. Whatever you need," he was surprised when Rosalie hugged him tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered as she pulled away, "For everything."

Cullen nodded and lifted slowly from the sofa. Taking one last look back at Rosalie on his couch, he made his way into his bedroom and crashed before he'd even removed his clothes.

=PoF=

The skies in Forks were grey and stormy looking, but there was nothing amazing or different about that. Isabella remembered her father telling her all about the cold and rain of the small town in Washington State where he had grown up and, sure enough, every year that Isabella and her mother made the journey across the country, the weather had been as gloomy as the faces of the two women who ventured there.

Isabella walked slowly with her mother's arm tucked through her own as they made their way to the headstone that had changed very little over the sixteen years since it was first erected. Isabella felt her mother tighten her hold and heard a small intake of breath as the headstone came into view.

Isabella clasped her palm over her mother's and smiled softly at her. "You ok?" she asked as the wind whipped her hair around her face.

Renee smiled and nodded. "I'm good," she replied. "It's always the hardest part...seeing it again after so long."

"I know," Isabella answered with a quick glance at her father's grave. She felt her heart splutter and her throat grow dry. "But we'll do it together like we always do."

Renee took a deep breath before they made their way across the path, closer to the grave. Isabella always allowed her mother to speak first and, as Renee placed a deep, red rose against the black marble, Isabella turned away and left her to her private moment.

As she wandered slowly down the leaf covered path, Isabella couldn't help but allow her brain to travel back across the country towards a very certain someone. _Cullen_. She felt the corners of her mouth tug up into a smile and pushed her hands into the pockets of her coat to protect them from the cold.

Saturday had been a complete shock. Not only had she been shocked to see that Cullen was in the club, but she was shocked to shit that he had been as bold as to touch her and dance with her the way that he had. Isabella felt a rush of warmth hit her cheeks and dissolve in her stomach as she remembered the feel of his hands on her, and the sensation of having his hard cock pushing against her ass. Goddamn but he was...large.

The words that he had uttered into her ear had been sensual and raw, and it had taken all of Isabella's efforts to not lose herself and do something crazy and inappropriate in front of Leah (who had looked just about ready to pop a capillary). Instead, Isabella had decided to tell Cullen that she felt the same way. She wanted him. She wanted him so fucking much and whether it had been the wine or the atmosphere, Isabella would have been willing to allow him to do whatever he had wanted against the wall that he had pushed her against.

Isabella turned back guiltily towards her mother who was now kneeling by the headstone; a small smile playing on Renee's lips. _Lips_. Isabella touched her own and swallowed. She never knew kissing a man could be so sexy and hot. Cullen's mouth was perfect in every way. He seemed to know how hard or soft she wanted it. And his taste? Fuck, she could feast on his tongue forever.

They had both hurdled a huge wall that night. Words that were spoken and texts that had been sent since did nothing but confirm that Isabella wanted Cullen in ways that she had been fighting since the day that they had first met. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to be with him naked; in every way that that word suggested. She felt as though he was stripping her bare of everything she had ever known and, she had to admit, she liked it. It was scary, exciting, and dangerous, but she was eager to do what she could to be with Cullen in any way possible.

The lines that had been drawn between herself and Cullen were now smudges, merging into the ground at Isabella's feet. She was prepared to cross them, knowing deep within her heart that Cullen would be waiting for her on the other side.

Her chest felt strange as she glanced at her watch while walking back towards her mother. She wondered what Cullen was doing and whether he was as pissed as she was that they were missing their time together. She immediately felt an overwhelming sense of guilt crash over her when she remembered where she was and why. _Daddy. _She rubbed her hands down her face and reached her mother as she stood from the ground.

Streaks of soft tear lines were visible down her cheeks as she placed a hand against the cold marble, whispering her love for the man she had lost. Renee turned to Isabella and smiled.

"Are you ok?" Isabella asked as her mother stepped away towards the path.

She nodded and looked back at the headstone, a look of contentment surrounding her eyes. "I am now," she replied. "Take your time, Isabella."

Renee left, and Isabella felt her chest constrict. She looked at the gold lettering on the marble, mouthing the date of his death. It felt like it was just yesterday that it had happened, that her hero-worshipped father had been ripped so violently from her life. She pulled her coat further around herself and crouched down so that she was eye-level with his gold-leafed name.

"Hey, Daddy," she whispered. "I'm sorry it's been so long since my last visit. Life is pretty crazy." She smiled as her index finger mapped the shape of the 'C' of his name. "Work is good, my students are great." She laughed lightly; proudly. "They really listen to me now and it feels like I'm making a difference."

Isabella tucked her hair behind her ears as another gust of wind hit her from the right. "Daddy, I…" She looked up at the angry sky and closed her eyes.

"I think about what you said to me that night all the time. And I need you to know that I am trying so hard to do right by you. I want to give back just like you told me to." She took a deep breath. "I also wanted to tell you that I…I have feelings for…someone and I'm scared that you'll think badly of me because of it. I know Mom will."

She glanced back at her mother, recalling all the comments and harsh looks that she had sent Isabella over the past few days, every time her job was mentioned. "She doesn't understand why I do what I do, and it sometimes…sometimes, it makes me feel pulled. Trapped, like I'm trying to do right by both of you when, I know, I should be doing right for myself. That's what you taught me, Daddy, and…he…he makes me feel _right_. He's made some mistakes, like we all have, but…"

Tears stung the back of Isabella's eyes and her right hand gripped the top of the marble in an effort to keep herself upright.

"But you have to know, Daddy, that he _is_ a good man. He's taken some wrong turns in life and he can drive me absolutely crazy, but there _is_ good there. I just know it." Isabella looked over to see her grandmother's grave at the side of her father's, and smiled.

"I know that wherever you are, you are happy and safe and looking out for me. I feel it in my heart, everyday." Small tears fell silently down her face. "I love you so much, Daddy, and I miss you even more. Please understand how I feel about him. I need you to know that…I…I could fall so in love with him."

As the words left Isabella's mouth - for one split second - the wind disappeared and the clouds parted above her, allowing a slither of sun to shine through. The momentary warmth hit the back of Isabella's neck, making her whole body relax.

She had never been an overly religious person, but in that moment, as she looked up at the now disappearing sun, she knew, deep in her soul, that her father had given her his blessing.

=PoF=

The plane ride from Washington State to Chicago had been comfortable and Isabella couldn't help but smile when she and her mother were met by Phil at the airport terminal. Renee hugged him hard as he whispered lovingly into her hair.

Isabella had always been grateful for the infinite understanding that Phil seemed to show in regards to her mother's grief for her late husband. He seemed to know what she needed, and when, and never ever looked or sounded wounded when she made the annual trip to Charlie's graveside.

Watching the two of them get reacquainted after three days apart, Isabella couldn't help but feel a small tug in the centre of her chest. She wrapped her own arms around herself, trying to fool her body into thinking that they belonged to a bronze-haired ex-con. It didn't work.

Phil smiled at Isabella, seemingly noticing her discomfort, and pulled her into a hug that she accepted appreciatively. "You ok, kid?" he asked as he rubbed her back. She nodded into his chest before pulling away. "You look well," he smiled. "You ready to go?"

Phil had arrived in Chicago the day before and had hired a car that the three of them piled into. Renee's mother, who Isabella lovingly referred to as Nana Boo, always arranged a get together at this time of year at her sprawling estate on the outskirts of Chicago. It was, she said, a way of celebrating the life of a man that had brought her youngest daughter so much happiness, as well as a beautiful daughter.

Isabella knew that her grandmother doted on her, and she once again felt guilty that she hadn't made the effort to see her more often.

Life just seemed to get in the way sometimes.

As they drove through the city and out into the country, Isabella pulled out her cell phone. It had been days since she had heard from Cullen and she couldn't help but admit that she was missing him.

She swallowed and sighed in resignation as she began to type out a text. _Hey, hope you're ok? Just wanted to make sure you weren't finding the work too hard._

She scoffed inwardly, knowing without doubt that Cullen would be able to complete the work tied to a chair and blindfolded. Isabella's cheeks immediately warmed as that image flashed behind her eyelids; only in this fantasy, he was naked. _Fuck._

Her cell vibrated against her thigh and Isabella's heart responded by doing some kind of weird flip-flop in her chest.

**I'm good. How are you? Missing me, huh? The work is fine. Boring doing it alone tho.**

Isabella smiled and shook her head at his arrogance. The fact that he was right was irrelevant.

_Oh yes, Cullen, missing you enormously (sarcasm) Sounds like you're missing me if you're so bored. I'm ok. In Chicago._

**Chicago? Thought you were in Wash. State? The only thing I miss is the ringing in my ears from your yelling at me all the time. (No sarcasm)**

Isabella snorted loudly garnering a curious look from her mother. "Who are you texting?" she asked with a smile. "You're cheeks are all flushed. Is it Peter?"

Isabella's smile dropped quickly from her face, "Um, no. It's um…just a friend."

Renee nodded slowly. "Well, I hope it's not those…people from that zoo you call a work place or that creature who you spend time with in the library. They should know to leave you alone this week."

Isabella held her tongue and silently counted to ten while her brain span. Just hearing Peter's name made Isabella feel guilty to her stomach. She had put off meeting him to explain everything, and she was disgusted in herself and her cowardice. Soon, she promised herself. She would tell him soon.

_We were in Wash. State for three days. Visiting my grandmother in Chicago. Back on Sunday. You may deny it, but I know you miss me hugely._

**Ok, ok, you see right through me, Miss Swan. I miss you. There. Happy?**

Happy? The ferocious beating of Isabella's heart would say most fucking definitely. He was missing her. Just like she was missing him. She smiled widely, biting down on her lower lip in an attempt to stop the skin from splitting.

_It's ok, Cullen. I miss you too._ She typed. _You and your Oreos._

**I knew you only wanted me for my deliciously sweet, cookie snacks. Funnily enough, I've just come across a question that I'm finding REALLY difficult. I may have to call you later for your help…**

_Oh really? That IS funny. If you need to call, that's fine. I will do my utmost to help you._

**Thank you, Peaches. I appreciate that. And if it so happens that have explosively hot phone sex while we're at it, that's ok with me. Just sayin'.**

_Holy shit._ Yeah, Isabella's pussy was certainly ok with that too, judging by the hot throb that had suddenly started between her thighs. She cleared her throat and glanced up at her mother who was, of course, utterly oblivious to the heat that was going on in the back seat.

_Is that so? Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?_

**That isn't a no.**

_I know._

**Christ, woman. You drive me fucking crazy. Every part of me.**

Isabella licked her lips at the thought of Cullen's hard cock. _Ditto. Believe me. I'll speak to you later._

**Absolutely. And, just so you know, I can still taste you on my lips. **

A soft moan slipped from Isabella's lips as the throb in her core quickly became a pounding. _Fuck. Me._ The man was relentless.

Not having any idea how to answer him, Isabella slipped her cell phone back into her pocket and allowed her mind to wander to the dark, naughty places of her mind where she and Cullen could do things she had only ever read about.

Isabella was no shrinking violet. She had had four lovers whom she had enjoyed some decent sex with, thank you very much. However, whenever she thought about sex or variations of the act with Cullen, Isabella couldn't help but think that he would blast her past sexual experiences out of the water.

He was so commanding and passionate that Isabella had no doubt that he would be the exact same way in the bedroom. She wanted him to command her. Fuck's sake, she'd do anything he wanted after seeing and feeling his desire for her on Saturday.

She placed a hand over her heart and took a deep breath. Libido and yearning aside, however, Isabella knew that she had to be careful. What she had told her father was true: she could easily fall for Cullen, and, if she was being honest with herself, it had already started.

Cullen wanted her, he had told her so himself, but was that all? Was it just about a hot, passionate fuck to him? Isabella didn't know, but she was borderline desperate to find out. Law of averages suggested that guys like Cullen weren't relationship material and were more than likely to run like a motherfucker in the opposite direction even at the sound of the word monogamy.

Isabella blinked at her reflection in the passenger window of the Ford. Was she truly thinking about a relationship with Cullen? As in, like, long term? Yes. Yes, she was. _Wow_.

"We're here, Isabella." Renee's voice broke into Isabella's daydream and she looked around herself to see that, sure enough, they were parked on the gravelled drive of Nana Boo's estate.

The house was as beautiful and imposing as Isabella remembered and a wide smile crossed her face as the huge, oak front door opened and Nana Boo appeared with her Dalmatian, Harry, pushing to get past her. Jumping from the car, Isabella slapped her thighs as Harry dashed towards her, barking happily and wagging his tail like a damn whip. He jumped up at her, tongue slobbering and nuzzles aplenty.

"Harry!" Nana Boo chided. "Get down!"

The dog immediately did as she asked with a sheepish glance towards his mistress. Isabella laughed at the poor animal and hurried over to her grandmother who threw her arms around her; squeezing tightly. She smelled of peppermint and lavender and the nostalgic scent brought fresh tears to Isabella's eyes.

"Oh, my darling girl," Nana said softly as she felt Isabella's gently sobs. "Shhh, it's alright, my angel. It's alright."

Isabella clutched tighter at her grandmother's words, and tried to get herself together. Her emotions, just lately, didn't at all feel like her own. She took a deep breath and stepped out of her grandmother's embrace. Small, wrinkled hands cupped Isabella's face and wiped at the tears that lay there. Isabella smiled and nodded in thanks. Nana Boo always had a way of making Isabella feel better. It was a grandmother's gift.

Renee hugged her mother hard before they all made their way into the house.

Nana Boo had organised food and drinks to be served the following evening for the people that had been invited to the small celebration. Leah and James would be there along with their mother and father, as well as Alice and Jasper whom Isabella had invited as a way of building some more bridges.

Isabella couldn't help but feel that there was still something going on with her best friend, and part of her was worried that she herself had done something very wrong to upset her. Yes, she had treated Peter appallingly, but Alice knew that Isabella was sorry about it. They had spoken about it at length the night that Cullen had turned up on her door step.

She sighed as she lifted her bags onto the bed of her room and tried to ignore the uneasy sensation in her stomach. Leah would want an explanation at the very least as to what and who had happened at the club on Saturday. Isabella had joined Leah on her work night out, simply because Leah classed the women she worked with as 'ancient, miserable fuckers.' She had bullied and coerced Isabella for days before Isabella relented.

Isabella had left the club soon after Cullen, with nothing more than a text, telling Leah that she was home and fine. Leah had called and text persistently ever since, but Isabella had told her that she would explain when they were together.

She'd sure as hell need a drink for that shit.

##

After a beautiful meal and a few glasses of wine, Isabella kissed everyone and called it a night.

The conversation had been easy and filled with laughter, as it always was where Nana Boo was concerned. She had expressed her worry at Isabella's '_skinniness_' but, apart from that, she had been excited to learn about Isabella's job at Arthur Kill and her private study sessions with Cullen.

It was hard for Isabella to remain nonchalant about Cullen as she spoke about him and noticed, on several occasions, that her grandmother was looking at her in a way that made her pause and regain her composure. Isabella was hopelessly aware that her whole body seemed to fizz when she spoke about him.

Isabella had tried hard to ignore her mother's huffs and tapping fingers as she spoke with her grandmother. Renee was still exceedingly concerned about Isabella's job and the fact that she was alone with a '_dangerous criminal' _three times a week. Her tone was condescending and dismissive at best.

Isabella couldn't imagine what her mother would make of the fact that said '_dangerous criminal'_ had had his tongue down her daughter's throat on three separate occasions.

Whatever.

After what had happened at her father's graveside earlier that day, anything her mother said about Isabella's career choice was simply moot at this point. Nana Boo seemed to be of the same thinking, which was a huge relief to Isabella. She was so sick of being treated like a child who couldn't make her own choices, and, after nearly four months, the whole, 'it's oh so dangerous' spiel, was getting seriously old. Just once she'd like to be treated like an adult by the people she loved.

Isabella hugged Nana Boo tightly. "Goodnight," she whispered as she kissed her soft wrinkled cheek.

"Goodnight Isabella," she replied. "I am so proud of you. I know you're father would be too."

Isabella smiled and nodded her head in embarrassment and hope. "See you in the morning," she said as she waved to Phil and kissed her mother quickly.

Isabella wasn't surprised when Harry followed her up the stairs and down the hall to her room. He sat obediently as she opened the door for him and skittered into the room before leaping onto her bed. Isabella laughed and rubbed his belly before heading into the bathroom to clean up.

Hair tied back with cami and shorts on, Isabella pulled back the huge quilt on the bed and snuggled down into the lush pillows. With a small yawn she reached for her cell, which had been charging since their arrival, to see that there was a missed call from Cullen.

Isabella squeaked in surprise and shot up into a seated position.

She checked the time that he had called to see that it was a little over an hour ago. _Shit._ He hadn't left a voicemail either. As excited as she had been at the prospect, Isabella hadn't really imagined that Cullen would _actually_ call her. She tapped her phone against her knee and began chewing on the inside of her mouth in earnest. She had to call him back. There was no question. She looked up at Harry as his tail began smacking the bed in happiness.

"Wish me luck," Isabella muttered to which the dog huffed down his nose.

Isabella pressed redial and swallowed a huge lump of terror. _Jesus Christ, its tenth grade all over again_. Phoning a boy who she liked, having no clue what the fuck she was going to say to him and hoping to all shit that she wasn't going to be a blubbering, stuttering mess and-

"Bella?"

_Fuckshit._ "Cullen." Her voice sounded far too fucking high on an almost helium sucking level. Goddamn it!

"Um, hey…I um, what's up?"

Isabella frowned at the surprise in his voice. "You called me," she replied. "I'm returning your call."

There was a slight pause. "Oh yeah, I um, shit, I didn't mean to interrupt anything or bother you."

"You didn't," Isabella interrupted quickly. "I was having dinner with my family. Are you ok? Are you still struggling with that reeeeally difficult question?"

Isabella grinned when she heard Cullen's soft, sexy laughter at the other end of the phone and felt her body start to relax.

"Actually, Peaches," Cullen uttered quietly. "I have a confession to make."

Isabella shifted on the bed, suddenly feeling nervous. What the hell could he have to confess? "Ok," she murmured. "What is it?" She fingered the end of her ponytail nervously.

Cullen exhaled and there was a soft thump in the background as though he had sat down heavily. "Ok, so truthfully…" he sighed dramatically. "I haven't even …looked at theworkthatyouleft…for…me."

Isabella blinked slowly before she snorted with laughter. Tears pricked at her eyes as she laughed so hard she bent in the middle. She was aware that Cullen was laughing along with her and she unashamedly, let it echo around her head before logging it away with her other favourite sounds, alongside her father's voice and New York City at night.

"Can you forgive me?" Cullen asked eventually after the two of them had calmed down. "I'll work extra, _extra _hard next week. I promise."

His voice was even more sexy and sensual on the phone and Isabella at once imagined that he could ask her anything and she would agree. It was a little scary how much power the man had over her.

"I suppose," she answered as she fingered the quilt coyly. "Not that I'm surprised really. I knew you'd find it difficult to do it alone. You need me there to keep your ass on task."

"My ass, huh?" Cullen asked with a smile that was almost visible down the phone.

Isabella clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean, Cullen."

"Shhh," he said quickly in response. "I have the most awesome fucking visual right now."

Isabella laughed again, but felt her heart stutter and her stomach clench. "You're terrible."

"You think?"

"Yes."

"I disagree wholeheartedly. So, what are you wearing?"

"Cullen!" Isabella admonished as she felt her cheeks heat up to almost scorching levels.

"What?" he asked innocently. "Am I making you blush?"

Her silence told him all he needed to know. "Don't worry, Peaches," he said gently. "You look fucking beautiful when you blush."

Isabella closed her eyes at the soft timbre of his voice and felt her skin heat at his words. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome. It's the truth."

After a moment of silence, Isabella shifted further under the covers of her bed. "So," she said with a wry smile. "Why did you call me?"

Cullen made a sound that could only come from a huge stretch and Isabella heard the distinct sound of flick lighter opening. "You know why," he replied before blowing what could only be smoke at the receiver. "Saturday seems a long time ago and Sunday...well, it seems a million miles away."

"Cullen," Isabella breathed.

"Too much?" he asked with an anxious edge to his voice.

Isabella shook her head, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "No," she answered. "I…I like that you wanted to speak to me."

"Good." He was silent for a moment before he continued, "You sound different on the phone you know?"

"I do?"

"Yeah. Younger. Maybe a little innocent? Sexy."

Isabella barked a laugh. "Sexy? Yeah, ok."

"Oh, Peaches," Cullen sighed. "You have no idea _how_ fucking sexy you are."

Feeling emboldened by his words, Isabella said, "You would know, right?"

There was a slight pause and a quiet shuffling at Cullen's side of the line. "And why's that, Peaches?" he asked, his voice taking on a low growl that spoke directly to Isabella's pussy.

"You know why," she replied smoothly with a smile as she crossed her legs under the blankets.

"You think I'm sexy?"

"I think you're beautiful," Isabella answered quickly with a small incredulous laugh. The man knew how attractive he was to the opposite sex for God's sake.

Cullen chuckled in what sounded like embarrassment. Isabella could see him clearly, in her mind's eye, shuffling his hands through his luscious hair. "Too much?" she asked as she twisted her own hair around her index finger.

"Um, no," Cullen murmured. "It's just…no-one has ever called me that before."

Isabella wasn't sure that he was being serious until she heard the sound of him clearing his throat in a shy manner. "Well, in that case, I'm glad I'm your first," she said quietly.

"Me too," he answered. He chuckled again, deep and lusty. "So much for the explosive phone sex, huh?"

Isabella laughed with him, "Yeah. Sorry about that."

"No problem," he replied while releasing a long breath. "I'm more of a hands-on kinda guy anyway."

Isabella rubbed a clammy palm down her face as she remembered the feel of the hands in question all over her as they danced in the club. Large, warm, but surprisingly gentle. Isabella had revelled in the feel of them against her.

"Yeah," Isabella sighed. "I remember."

"Mmhm," Cullen replied lazily, "Peaches?"

"Yes, Cullen?"

"I...When you...Did you really mean it?"

Isabella knew what he meant immediately. The way in which he asked the question was exactly the way in which he had asked her to repeat herself in the club.

"Cullen," Isabella croaked.

"Yes?"

"Of course I fucking meant it."

She heard him groan softly and the sound made her nipples hard against her cami. "Goddamn it, Bella, I wish you were here with me. _Right now._ And I don't care if that shit frightens you. It's how I really feel."

"It doesn't frighten me," Isabella replied firmly. "I want it too."

"I know," he replied confidently. "I can hear it in your voice and it's driving me fucking crazy."

Isabella closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the headboard. "This is insane," she whispered.

"Don't," Cullen ordered sharply. "Don't think. Don't fucking think about _anything_ until we can talk. You wanted to talk, right?"

The desperate quiver to his voice made Isabella sit up quickly. "I do. I do want to talk. We need to, face to face."

"So, just think about that, Bella, ok?"

Isabella bit her lip and dropped her chin to her chest. "Ok," she answered tenderly. "That sounds good."

Cullen exhaled in what sounded suspiciously like relief. Isabella was hit by the sudden realisation that Cullen was as affected by her as she was of him. The knowledge that she wasn't alone with her inexplicable reactions and feelings made her chest expand. Maybe there was a future for them?

"You're tired," Cullen said lightly. "You should go to bed."

"Don't tell me what to do," Isabella retorted with a wide smile as Cullen snickered. "And besides, I'm already in bed."

The moan that travelled through the phone to Isabella's ear set her entire body on fire.

"Holy shit, Bella! Are you joking right now? Tell me you're fucking joking. _Please_."

Isabella giggled in a way that even surprised her. It was flirty and girly and entirely new.

"I'm not joking," she said in a small voice. "I'm lying in bed making spoons with Harry."

The phone line went deathly silent and a shiver of cold travelled down Isabella's back.

"Who the mother_fuck_ is _Harry_?" Cullen snarled down the phone, raising goose bumps along Isabella's arm.

Isabella almost laughed, but Cullen's tone made her think better of it. Jesus, he was hot when he was pissed. But was he really _that_ jealous?

"He's…um; he's my grandmother's Dalmatian. He's very cute."

Isabella wasn't sure, but she thought she heard Cullen curse and mutter: _'fucking cock sucking Dalmatian.'_ Isabella smirked at the thought of Cullen getting so incensed that she was sharing a bed with a spotted dog, and snuggled back into her pillows.

She yawned and Cullen laughed. "Get some sleep, Peaches," he said quietly. "And um, have a good rest of your vacation."

"I will. I'll…if you want to…you know if you want to talk again-"

"I'll call," he finished for her with a smile in his voice. "Goodnight, Bella."

"Goodnight, Cullen," Isabella replied before she begrudgingly pressed the end call button on her phone.

That night, her sleep was deep and filled with visions of green eyes and bronze hair.

=PoF=

The following afternoon, Isabella began to prepare herself for the onslaught that was Leah Damon. She had received a further two texts from her friend demanding answers when she arrived at the house. Oddly, Isabella had only received one text from Alice, telling Isabella that she and Jasper's flight was on time. Once again, a strange, uncomfortable feeling crept silently around Isabella's stomach. She and Alice had a lot to discuss, Isabella knew. She wanted to clear the air as best as she could, it was just a question of whether Alice would allow it to happen.

"Miss Swan?"

Isabella turned from the large window at the front of the house to face the man who had spoken her name so softly. A wide smile appeared on her face when she saw who it was.

"Billy," she said as she placed her drink down on the table at her side and opened her arms to hug him. The ex-secret service agent hugged Isabella back tentatively, with a small clap against her back.

"How are you?" Isabella asked as she looked him over.

She noticed that he had aged well, and still looked as imposing and strong as she remembered. His black hair was now etched with silver and the wrinkles on his face were a lot more defined, but other than that, he looked very much like the man who had worked for her father for ten years: The man who had suffered a stabbed thigh and three broken ribs as he attempted to save Senator Swan.

"I'm well, Miss Swan. How are you?" he asked with a formality Isabella recollected well. Her father had hated it and had insisted on a less formal household as much as was possible with all his staff.

"I'm great. It's good to see you."

The two of them stood awkwardly; both not knowing what else to say to one another. Isabella knew that Billy blamed himself entirely for what had happened to her father. He wasn't there when he should have been, but Isabella also knew what a stubborn man her father had been. She understood and, even though she had been too young to remember everything in detail, the investigation into her father's murder found Billy innocent of any wrongdoing. He had followed an order that had gotten his protected killed.

Isabella understood that that must have been a fuck hard thing to live with.

"I'm glad you came, Billy," she said finally. "It's been too long."

Billy nodded and looked down at his feet. It was a nervous gesture that surprised Isabella. She had always known Billy to be totally steadfast and unshakable.

"I just wanted to pass on my well wishes, Miss Swan," he said determinedly. "I think about you often: about how you are and...Whether you have forgiven me for what happened that night."

"Billy," she said firmly with a palm on his forearm, shocked and taken aback by his words.

"I hope that you can, eventually," he continued.

Isabella couldn't help but look into his eyes. They looked so damn sad.

"I have forgiven myself," he laughed without humour, "_Finally_. I just need yours." His eyes turned pleading, almost desperate. "I just need _your_ forgiveness, Miss Swan."

Isabella felt her throat close as the look of sheer failure, terror and regret, that had smothered Billy's face the night her father had died, flashed behind her eyelids.

"There's nothing to forgive," she said gently before clearing her throat.

Billy's eyes glistened and his jaw clenched as he nodded slowly. Without thinking Isabella moved forward once more and hugged him with all her might. This time he did put his arms around her, returning the hug ten-fold, while muttering a breathless _'thank you'_ into Isabella's hair.

##

"So spill," Leah ordered as she followed Isabella with heavy feet into the kitchen. "Who the fuck was that guy and why the hell were you nearly having sex on the dance floor?"

Isabella pulled her friend by the sleeve into the pantry and slammed the door shut behind them. "Will you keep your fucking voice down?" she hissed. "I'd rather not have my family hear about my sex life thank you very much."

"So you _did_ have sex?" Leah exclaimed.

Isabella rubbed her hands down her face and groaned in helplessness. Leah had arrived all of ten minutes ago and had done nothing but follow Isabella around with a pursed mouth and a narrowed eye.

Isabella exhaled and shook her head. "No, we didn't-"

"You made out?"

"Yes."

"Tongue?"

"Yes."

"Grinding?"

"Yes."

"Name?"

"Edward Cullen."

Leah stopped dead, her face falling into an expression that made Isabella think of a blow-up sex doll. Her mouth was so wide that it was almost comical. _Almost._

"You. Are. Shitting. Me?" she gasped. "That was your fucking _student_?" Isabella nodded. "The ex-con?" Isabella nodded again. "The guy you've been giving 'private sessions' to for weeks?"

"_Yes_!" Isabella cried in exasperation, "The very same."

"Holy fuck," Leah whispered.

"Tell me about it," Isabella muttered as she slumped against the condiment shelf with her face in her palms.

"He's fucking gorgeous."

Isabella's head snapped towards her friend who was standing with her face turned up at the ceiling with a faraway, yet slightly lewd expression on her face. Isabella couldn't help but start to snigger.

"Christ, Leah, only you could have such words of wisdom for a situation as fucked up as this one." Isabella pulled her hair into a ponytail before letting it fall over her shoulders.

"Seriously, Isabella, that man is _fine_!" Leah continued. "I knew you had a thing for him, but I honestly thought it was because of the whole _bad-boy-gone-good_ syndrome you women seem to be afflicted by."

Isabella cocked an incredulous eyebrow, "_Us_ women?"

"You know what I mean," Leah mumbled with a dismissive wave. "So tell me. What's going on with you and Mr. Lock-Me-Up-Tie-Me-Down-and-Throw-Away-The-Fucking-Key?"

Isabella nearly laughed but it stopped in her throat when there was a gentle knock at the door of the pantry. "Hello?"

Renee's small face popped around the edge of the door. She smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Isabella immediately wondered how much of the conversation her mother had actually heard. _Shit._ That was all she needed.

"Alice and Jasper are here," she said quietly. "Once you are finished…whatever you are dong, can you come and say hello?"

"Yeah," Isabella replied quickly. "We're coming now."

The door of the pantry shut and Isabella clenched her fists and teeth as she screamed as quietly as she could in frustration. Once again she was made to feel like the naughty girl in the corner and it drove her up the damn wall. In addition, this was the part of the whole trip that she was dreading and, quite honestly, between her mother's cautious glances and disapproving remarks and Leah's Spanish Inquisition, she could have really done without dealing with her friend and her fiancé, but, fuck, it was now or never.

Straightening her grey cashmere sweater over the band of her slim leg black trousers, Isabella walked past Leah with a dry look, knowing she wasn't out of the interrogation woods, and opened the pantry door.

Alice and Jasper were standing in the large sitting room, talking animatedly to Jamie and Nana Boo. Isabella smiled gingerly at Alice who returned it in a way that was just as strained. Yeah. This shit was going to be hell.

"How are you?" Isabella asked as she kissed her friend on the cheek and hugged Jasper.

"Good, good," Alice nodded. "And you? Any news?"

Isabella shrugged and shuffled from side to side as discreetly as she could. Alice, however, didn't miss a trick. She was looking straight at Isabella with a look that told her that Alice's freaky all knowing shit was in full bullshit detection mode.

"Nothing exciting," Isabella replied.

"Bullshit," Leah muttered into her glass.

Isabella glared at her in such a way that Leah suddenly became very interested in the canapés that were being brought around by the waiting staff.

"Oh yeah?" Alice enquired with a tilt of her head. "Something you wanna share?"

Isabella frowned gently and shook her head. "Not right now," she said firmly, but followed it with a small smile, trying like hell to take the defensiveness out of her tone. She wasn't sure it worked. She grabbed for a glass of wine from another passing waiter and sipped it quickly.

The bland, polite conversation began in earnest between Alice, Jasper and Renee, but Isabella couldn't find it in herself to join in with any enthusiasm. The tension between herself and Alice was palpable, and the mundane weather and work speak was just delaying the inevitable discussion that they needed to have about Cullen, or what the hell ever else Alice needed to say.

When Renee asked Jasper excitedly about Peter, Isabella felt three sets of curious and questioning eyes land hard on her face. She ignored them and waited for Jasper to answer, which he did, as politely as any good Southern boy would. Christ, she could feel the walls start to close in on her.

The strange, hollow feeling in Isabella's stomach was well and truly spreading and, as she glanced around the room, and connected eyes with a concerned looking Jamie, a demanding Leah and a forever judgemental and concerned mother, she immediately wanted to make a phone call.

Ridiculous as it was, Cullen's voice was all she could think about. She needed to hear him, speak to him and she needed it right then.

"I'll be right back," she muttered as she slinked form under her mother and Alice's gaze, and headed up the stairs to the master bathroom, with Harry close on her heels.

Leaving the dog in the hallway, Isabella closed the door with a slam and dropped her forehead against it while she took some deep breaths. What the hell was going on here?

She felt claustrophobic, suffocated, and in desperate need of reassurance that what she was doing with Cullen, was right. Not that she needed anyone's permission, but, hell, just _something_ would help right now!

After four days, her mother's disapproving and snide remarks were grating on her and, with Alice now in the mix, and talk of Peter, everything just seemed to be coming to a head.

Isabella shuffled towards the toilet, putting the seat down and sat down on top it. She wanted her father. _That's_ what she wanted. She wanted to see his face, hear his calm, patient voice, and smell his warm, deep cherry scent. He'd know what to say to make it right. He always did. Either that or he would squeeze her to his chest so hard that she would forget what she was upset about in the first place.

The tears threatened to spill, but Isabella didn't allow them to. Now wasn't the time.

Going to her messages she typed a quick one out to Cullen, hating and approving of her actions all at the same time. Her mother would flip her shit if she knew what was going on, and Alice? Well, the way in which she had been looking at Isabella since her arrival, made Isabella think she knew a lot more than she was saying, which bugged the hell out of her.

_Why couldn't people just say shit? _

Isabella's thumbs flew over the screen of her cell. _Are you busy? Wanna talk?_

The knock at the door of the bathroom coincided with Isabella's thumb pressing the send button. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath before she stood and walked slowly to the door. Opening it cautiously, she wasn't surprised to see Alice standing on the other side of it.

"Hey," Isabella said quietly as she leaned against the strong wood.

"Hey," Alice replied. "You ok?"

Isabella paused before she shook her head. No more bullshit. Cards on the table. "No," she answered firmly.

Alice's eyes dropped to the floor as she exhaled. "I didn't think so."

Isabella lifted her shoulders in question before dropping them in defeat. "What's going on, Alice?" she asked as calmly as she was able. "I mean…I don't know. I feel like I'm missing something here. Is this because of Peter? Are you pissed at me because I don't want to be with him?"

Alice's head shot up and her eyes immediately narrowed. "You don't?"

Isabella swallowed at the realisation of what she had just said. _Shit._ She shook her head and closed her eyes briefly in regret.

"Why?" Alice asked. Isabella detected a sharp edge to her voice and her hackles instantly rose.

"What do you mean, why? Why are people attracted to some people and others aren't?" She ran an agitated hand through her hair. "Look, I'm sorry that I lead him on. I am. But, I didn't know I was doing it until I-…"

Alice's face flashed with a sudden understanding as Isabella trailed off. "This is about Cullen, isn't it? Are you…Are you fucking him?"

Isabella felt her temper flare at the dismissive way in which the words dropped from Alice's mouth. She sounded just like Renee.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no, I'm not," Isabella snapped back.

"Not my business?" Alice scoffed. "I was at your apartment the night you spilled your fucking guts out to me about him before he turned up on your damned doorstep. I've seen you over these past few months, the way you talk about him and pretend like it's a normal teacher/student relationship. I fucking _knew_ you'd fall for him."

Isabella glared at her supposed best friend, unable to even begin to articulate the anger that was boiling up inside of her. "So what if I have?" she seethed.

"Oh, Isabella, please," Alice scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Don't speak to me like a fucking child, Alice," Isabella growled. "I get enough of that from my mother. I don't need another one."

"I'm speaking to you like a child because you're fucking acting like one, Isabella, and because I love you and want what's best for you, and because I've held my tongue for too long. He's. Your. Student, Isabella, and a criminal. You're putting your _whole_ career on the line and disregarding a potentially fantastic relationship, all for a stupid teenage crush that is going to go exactly _nowhere_."

"And what the hell would you know?" Isabella's voice was louder than she intended, but she didn't care. Alice was wrong and she had no right coming into her grandmother's house and talking to her this way.

"I know a damn sight more than you," Alice replied tellingly with eyes that flashed a hundred and one different emotions.

"Everything ok here?" Jasper's concerned voice came from the top of the stairs as he made his way towards the two women.

"No," Isabella snapped before Alice had a chance to answer.

The look on Jasper's face told Isabella that there was something else that Alice needed to say.

"It seems I'm a little out of the loop here." Isabella's hands rested firmly on her hips as she looked between Jasper and Alice over and over, waiting for one of them to speak. "Is someone gonna tell me what the hell's going on, besides my acting like a fucking child?" She looked pointedly at Alice.

Jasper placed his hand in Alice's and squeezed it before he turned back to Isabella. His eyes were determined yet cautious as he said: "He's my cousin."

Isabella looked at him blankly. She noticed Alice drop her chin to her chest at his words, but still her brain couldn't quite understand what she was being told.

"What?" Isabella asked impatiently; her face scrunching up in annoyance, "Who?"

As Jasper opened his mouth to answer, Isabella's phone began singing in her hand. Isabella grimaced and glanced at the screen quickly. _Cullen calling…_

With a dull pain that moved sluggishly through her chest, she pressed decline and looked back at the two, now almost strangers, who were watching her carefully.

Jasper smiled wryly, obviously seeing the name of who had just called, and reached out to tap the top of Isabella's cell phone with the tip of his finger. "_He_ is my cousin."

Isabella looked from the handsome face before her, and then down to her phone, the screen of which was still illuminated. The words Jasper had spoken buzzed in Isabella's head as her brain began to try putting them into a full sentence that was supposed to make sense, but totally didn't.

_Cousin_.

_Jasper's_ cousin. _Cullen_ was Jasper's cousin_. Fuck._ Jasper Whitlock was Cullen's _cousin_. They were related.

But then that would mean…

"Oh God," Isabella breathed as she swayed slightly and grabbed onto the door frame. _Peter._

Alice reached for her, but Isabella pulled her arm out of grasp. Alice immediately looked crushed.

"You knew," Isabella whispered, feeling her head start to throb with information and an emotion so heavy it almost brought her to her knees, "When Cullen came to my apartment. You fucking knew."

Jasper nearly choked. "He was at your apartme-"

"Yes," Alice interrupted him. She placed a hand on Jasper's chest but kept her eyes on Isabella's. "I did know. And _he_ knew when I said the name Whitlock. I thought he might have said something to you himself. But, Bells, it wasn't my place to tell you."

"Bullshit," Isabella fumed. Her palm slapped the door of the bathroom. "Bull. Shit. You could have told me at any time, you both could have. _And_ Peter! But you all chose not to because, like every other person in my fucking life, _bar Cullen_, you treat me like a kid who doesn't know any better. I am so damned sick of everyone thinking they have to protect me like I'm still nine years old!"

"Isabella."

All three of them turned to see Renee - standing in front of a speechless looking Leah - wringing her hands and looking sternly at Isabella. _Sternly, like I'm nine years old._

Well, wasn't that just like throwing fuel on a fucking fire?

Isabella looked away from her mother - trying to numb out the guilt of what she was about to do - grabbed at her hair and pushed past Alice and Jasper, heading quickly to her bedroom. The suffocation she was experiencing was reaching epic proportions, and the pounding in her brain was sending her almost frantic.

"I need to get out of here," she muttered as she burst into the room and made a grab at the bag that was, fortunately, still packed. Hoisting it over her shoulder, she turned and almost fell over her mother who was standing in the doorway.

"Where are you going?" Renee asked quietly, eying the bag and the knuckle white grip that Isabella had on it.

"I'm sorry, but…I need…I need to get out of here, Mom," Isabella answered, avoiding the gaze that she knew would make her feel tiny and shitty all at the same time. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Renee spluttered. "You're not going anywhere." Her voice was firm but dangerously calm, but Isabella couldn't have cared less.

She couldn't be around people, much less the people who didn't understand what she was feeling; people who lied to her and treated like she was stupid. There was too much to process, too many questions with hardly any answers. She needed to be alone. _Now._

"I…I have to…just for tonight." It was a lie. Isabella knew it as soon as the words left her mouth. Her plan was to get into the car and not stop until the gas ran out.

"I won't allow it, Isabella. You will put that bag down, pull yourself together and apologise to Alice."

Isabella barked a sardonic laugh. "Apologise? Me? I don't think so, Mom. I have _nothing_ to apologise for!"

"Enough!" Renee said loudly, making Isabella's rage reach its summit.

Her mother took a deep breath and stared at Isabella in a way that Isabella had never seen. She looked…disappointed…disgusted?

"From what _I_ have heard tonight," Renee said in a low voice. "There are plenty of things that you need to apologise for, Isabella."

The way that Renee said her name made Isabella's blood run cold.

Isabella stared hopelessly at the women before her. It was as though she had no clue who she was. Isabella's breath caught hard in her throat as a sudden realisation hit her. Her mother _had_ heard. She had heard Isabella's conversation with Leah, with Alice and Jasper.

Renee knew, or at least she thought she knew, what her daughter had been doing with her criminal student for the past few months.

It appeared Isabella's dirty, little secret was now no longer secret. Well, fuck.

She looked at her mother and felt her eyes sting with furious tears. "I'm sorry I disappoint you so much." She moved around her, holding her sobs in as best as she could. "I'll call you when I get to where I'm going."

Renee grabbed her arm. "You are not leaving! You are here for your father!"

"I know why I'm here, Mom," Isabella yelled back. "I was there the night they fucking killed him, remember."

The shock of the slap to the left side of Isabella's face, stung much more, than the slap itself. Isabella had never been struck by her mother before, but, deep down, underneath all the confused, angry shit that was swirling around her soul and mind, Isabella knew she deserved it. Maybe that was why she didn't cry?

Isabella registered a gasp from her mother, but didn't stay around to hear what she had to say. She pulled her arm out from Renee's grasp and exploded out of the room, past Jasper and Alice, who was apparently crying, and bolted down the stairs.

Jamie was at the bottom of them, looking utterly perplexed. "Bells?" he said sympathetically as he followed her to the cloak room.

"Can I have the keys to your car?" Isabella stuttered as she grabbed her coat quickly. She could hear the voices of her mother and Alice getting louder, as they came down the stairs after her.

Jamie shook his head and grimaced. "It's a hire car, Bells. I can't." He rubbed her bicep. "Just stay and talk this out."

Isabella was just about to go batshit crazy on his numb fucking ass when a small, pale hand appeared over her shoulder, holding a set of car keys.

"Take mine, darling," Nana Boo said softly, as Isabella turned to her in surprise. "It'll be an excuse for you to come back." She winked.

"Nana," Isabella whimpered as she took the keys from her. "I'm so, so sorry…I can't expla-, Oh God…I just, I need to-…"

"I know, baby," her grandmother interrupted with a small smile of understanding as she cupped the side of Isabella's face and stroked the apple of her cheek with the flat of her thumb. "Go. I'll look after your mother. She'll come around."

Isabella kissed her grandmother's hand, whispered another 'thank you' and, with her bag in hand, she ran outside to the Jaguar XJ, unlocking it as she approached.

Her bag was quickly thrown in, the keys were in the ignition and her foot was to the floor as she sped down the gravelled drive way away from her friends and family. Isabella tried her hardest to ignore the intense sense of relief that consumed her as the miles mounted between them, and wished like hell for guilt to take its place.

It never did.

=PoF=

Cullen had had a shitty fucking week. And, because he was an asshole, he had made everyone else's week shitty too.

He knew that he had been short tempered and tetchy with the guys at work, and his counselling sessions and home visits had been filled with uncooperative grunts and shrugs, simply because he couldn't be fucking assed to deal with all that shit. The only good thing about the week had been Cullen's session with Alec. He had kicked seven shades of shit out of every piece of equipment that could handle it and, although it had made him feel better momentarily, he was still edgy and fidgety.

Fuck, he was starting to drive himself fucking stir crazy. Hence why he had decided to stay in on a Saturday night while his buddies went out, rock the fuck out of his guitar, smoke like a fucking chimney, and drink his body weight in Jack. Not that that shit was even putting a dent in his sobriety. _Bastard._

As he lit another smoke, and began strumming the opening chords of Kings of Leon '_Fans',_ he couldn't help but take another peek at his cell phone. Nope. Still no fucking word.

The reason his panties were in such a goddamn awful bunch was simple. Peaches. The fucking woman was gonna give him a heart attack, way before any pack of Marlboro or bottle of alcohol would.

Dealing with her being away from him for a week was one thing. Having her ignore him, after they had spoken and text, three days before, was another and was definitely not conducive to a happy Cullen. Jesus, he was just about ready to smash something.

For the life of him he couldn't figure the shit out.

Saturday at the club had been fucking awesome. Cullen truly thought that they had communicated properly for the very first time. She had said that she wanted him and, fuck, if she hadn't then told him the same thing while they were on the phone four days later.

The sound of the words coming in his ear had made Cullen's heart thump and his cock ache for release. He'd rubbed his crotch a few times while they had talked, but had had to stop when she mentioned that she was in bed, for fear that he would blow his load in his fucking shorts.

Seriously, the woman was fucking dangerous (and had apparently disappeared off the face of the planet.)

The last he had heard from her was a text asking if he could talk. His reaction, when he had received the text, would have put him up there with the biggest pussies known to man, but, shit, the smile that had graced his face couldn't be helped. He liked that she had text him, and he liked that she wanted to talk to him even more.

Truthfully, he'd never had a relationship with a woman where conversations on the phone happened. Of course, he had had conversations with women on the phone before, but they usually lasted two minutes and consisted of one asking the other for a fuck. Speaking at length with Peaches about normal, everyday things - although new and scary - was something that Cullen had enjoyed, and could easily get used to.

_Fuck._ He pushed the cell phone across the leather angrily. He wasn't going to call her again. It had gone to voicemail the other four times he'd tried, and his texts - of which there were seven - had gone unanswered. What would have changed now?

He rubbed the heel of his hand across his chest to soothe the fucking heart burn that had been plaguing him for days and continued to strum, humming the tune as he did.

_Home grown  
Back to the rhythm and back to the beat of the radio  
You ain't got the slang but you got the face to play the role  
You can't play with me_

The knock at the door of his apartment was as unexpected as it was inconvenient. If Jacob thought he could come and drag Cullen's miserable ass out into the city, the fucker was in for a big, fucking surprise.

"Fuck off," he mumbled under his breath and flicked his smoke into the full ashtray. But the knocking came again and this time, it didn't stop, "For fuck's sake!"

Slamming his guitar down onto the chair, Cullen stormed barefoot across the loft to the door. Pulling back the deadbolt while still muttering curses under his breath, he swung the door open ready to punch whichever motherfucker was disturbing his brooding, introverted bullshit.

Catching the door before it hit the wall, the ferocious expression on his face dropped like a rock in water. _Holy fuck._

"P…Peaches?"

There she was, standing, looking a little worse for wear, but still beautiful, in skinny black jeans and a red hooded top. Bizarrely, she was wearing flip-flops. Her hair was pulled up into a messy pony-tail and her eyes were blood shot and rimmed in mascara as though she had been crying for days or - from the way she was swaying - drinking.

"Wh-what are you doing here?"

She leaned slightly against the door frame and smiled at him, but, unlike the smiles that she had given him in the past, this smile was not a happy one. Her eyes didn't shine and she didn't show her teeth. It looked forced and was gone too quickly.

"I came to see _you_," she replied with a finger at his chest. Cullen frowned gently at her. "Can I come in?"

"Um…yeah, yeah sure," he replied, holding the door open for her to come in while he gestured for her to enter with the other.

He watched her as she walked in slowly but surely, like a timid animal, and closed the door behind her. He kept his hand on the door handle, and closed his eyes for a beat as he tried to collect himself.

_Peaches is here. In my fucking apartment. What. The. Fuck?_

He took a deep breath and turned around to find her staring right back at him in a way that made his heart soar and his cock twitch. "Peaches," he began. "How did you know where-"

Cullen's words were eaten up by Peaches' mouth as it smashed into his own. She came at him with such force that his back thumped hard into the door behind him, and her hands were suddenly fucking everywhere: his hair, his face, his chest…_oh shit_…his ass.

Fuck, she felt good. So fucking good, pressed against him, eager for him, wanting him. He wondered if she was wet for him and moaned into her mouth as her tongue slammed into his. She groaned loudly in answer and pushed her hips into him, begging him, and holy fuck, he wanted to take her: hard, right there, slamming against the door, but the whole thing just felt…wrong?

His hands that were wrapped tightly around her waist, moved to her face where he pushed her back gently. She panted against his cheek with her eyes closed and her lips still in a full, gorgeous pout.

"Peaches," he gasped before swallowing. "Shit. Just…wait a second."

"No," she replied firmly, burning her gaze into his. "I want you," she whispered. "I want you now," she licked his throat, "inside me, fucking me, taking me."

"Fuuuuck," Cullen moaned, rotating his hips against her, pushing his dick against her soft stomach.

"Yes," she hissed as she took his bottom lip between her teeth. "I can feel how hard you are, Cullen. Tell me you want me. Tell me you want me and that you want it as much as I do."

"Want it?" Cullen growled incredulously. He bent slightly, grabbing the back of her thighs and yanked her off her feet so that her legs wrapped around his waist; her heat pressing perfectly against his belly button; her sandals falling to the floor.

"Peaches, I want to be _in_ you so fucking much." He pushed his face into her neck, smelling her peach scented hair, and bit her neck lightly making her gasp. "I want you deep, hard and wet." He sucked her ear lobe. "Jesus Christ, fuck, I don't want it." He lifted his face and placed his nose at the side of hers. "I fucking need it."

Their lips met again, passionate and full of raw need. My God, Cullen had never felt a need like it. It was all consuming, heady and more intense than anything he had ever experienced. It swelled in his body, ready to erupt like a fucking volcano: ready to erupt into _her_.

Into _his_ Peaches.

Her hands gripped the back of his hair and his neck as Cullen staggered through his living room, bumping into the back of the couch. _Motherfuck._ He leaned against it for one second as his hands travelled up and under her hooded top, feeling her soft skin against his palms.

_So fucking soft._

Setting off with a grunt as Peaches moved her mouth to his jaw where she began fucking nibbling it in the sexiest, most sensual way, Cullen shuffled his way towards his bedroom, wishing to all fuck that his bed would meet him half way. Goddamn inanimate piece of shit.

Panting, groaning and harder than he'd ever been in his entire life, Cullen's knees hit the side of his bed with a dull thump. Peaches lifted her mouth from his and pulled hard on his shoulders, toppling him, and making him fall forward onto the bed, on top of her.

The feel of her legs wrapped around Cullen's waist as he ground against her, was phenomenal. He pulled the tie from her hair, flicking it away, and buried his hands, wrist deep, into its delicious thickness.

He bent her neck back, hard, and started kissing, licking and biting her from her chin to her collarbone and back again. He was suddenly frantic with the need to consume her: every part of her.

Her taste…_fuck_, there were no words. Perfection seemed insanely inadequate.

Cullen's tongue was desperate for more of her flavour and he couldn't even begin to stop his mind from wandering down to that hidden, precious spot between her thighs.

God Almighty. She'd taste so fucking sweet, bucking on his face; writhing against his tongue.

He groaned really fucking loudly, pushing his hips into her again, hungry for any kind of friction, and watched in awe as her back arched in pleasure. He had to get the fuck inside her; had to feel her around him.

Cullen lifted from her, leaning on his forearms at the sides of her head and searched her face briefly for any signs of hesitation. He couldn't lie: if he had seen any he would have been devastated, but he had to see that she was sure.

He could smell the sweet scent of Amaretto on her breath, which meant that she wasn't as sober as he would have liked her to be, but, the way in which she responded to his touch, suggested she was as ready for what they were about to do as much as he was.

Their eyes connected and a flash of something heart wrenching crossed the brown of her irises. It sent a shiver down Cullen's spine and he recoiled slightly in concern.

"Peaches," he murmured but her fingers quickly pressed hard against his lips.

"Don't," she whispered, "Don't fucking think. Please. I need you not to think and just…be with me." She pulled his face back to hers and smothered his mouth with long, wet kisses that set his bones on fire.

Cullen tried to listen to his gut, he tried to listen to the sensible part of his brain, but Peaches' mouth and hands were far too fucking distracting. Swallowing his conscience with one huge motherfucking gulp, he gripped the zipper of her hooded top, and pulled it down in one fluid movement.

_Oh_ _holy Jesus._

No. Bra.

"Shit." He licked his lips as his cock punched at his fly, and just fucking stared. She was beautiful and pert, with dark stiff nipples that ached for his lips and tongue around them.

"You're…my God, Bella…you're fucking perfect."

Before she could reply, Cullen's mouth fell against her right breast where he quickly hollowed out his cheeks and sucked as hard as he could. _Sweet fruits. _With a guttural moan,Peaches' legs wrapped further around him, and her nails scored the fabric of his t-shirt as she gasped and whimpered into his hair.

"I…I need to feel you," she groaned, pulling at the shirt's hem. "Please, let me feel you against me."

Without a seconds pause, Cullen released her nipple, grabbed the neck of his t-shirt and yanked that shit over his head before launching it across the bedroom. He crashed back down onto her, grunting as he felt her bare chest against his.

As he continued to worship her tits, he felt her release her arms from the confines of her hooded top and - as soon as she was free of it - he grabbed her hands and pushed them above her head, crushing them into the mattress of the bed.

Their tongues met again between their mouths in the open air, twisting and dancing amid soft moans and silent confessions of feelings that were too big and scary to say out loud.

Peaches gripped Cullen's fingers between hers and lifted her head from the bed; urgently seeking from him what Cullen was _more_ than willing to give. He wanted to give her everything.

Fuck, he already had. He knew in his heart that she owned him: lock, stock and barrel.

"Say it," she gasped against his cheek as he began licking at her jaw. "Say you want me…I need…I need to hear it…need to hear it."

Cullen growled into her cleavage. "I want you, Bella." His teeth grazed her sternum. "I've always wanted you." _My whole life._

"Again," she croaked, her voice trembling. "Tell me this is right. Tell me…_we_ are right."

Cullen paused, stunned at her words and glanced up at her face.

What he saw knocked every ounce of wind out of him. Her eyes were clenched shut, her face in an almost grimace of pain, and a small shimmer of moisture could be seen at the inside corner of her right eye. She was _crying_.

"Bella," he whispered and lifted his body from hers, terrified that he had hurt her in some way. "What the…baby, what's wrong? Did I…fuck, are you hurt?"

She shook her head from side to side, her eyes remaining shut. "You'd never hurt me," she murmured. "Would you, Cullen? I know you'd never hurt me or lie to me. Would you?"

"Never, Bella," he replied, his throat constricting in fear and confusion. "Bella, look at me."

She didn't answer, nor did she open her eyes, but the lone tear that trickled down her cheek, spoke volumes.

"Christ, Isabella," Cullen pleaded in a voice that even _he_ didn't recognise. "Please talk; you're scaring the _shit_ out of me."

Her eyes suddenly snapped open, and the fire behind them was so fierce, that Cullen was amazed his face hadn't melted the fuck off.

"_What_ did you call me?" she seethed through gritted teeth. Cullen looked back at her, utterly perplexed.

He shrugged. "I called you Isabella," he answered in a low, calm voice. "Why?"

"You _never_ call me that," she retorted in a voice that was so far past furious, Cullen wasn't sure that there was a word that existed in the English language that he could use to describe it.

Maybe venomous?

"I know, I just…it just came out," Cullen explained.

"Get off me."

Cullen balked. "What?"

"Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me!" she spat as she wrenched her hands free of his and pushed against his chest so hard, that he landed on his back; bouncing as the bed took his weight.

"What the hell?" he cried with open palms and incredulous eyes.

But she didn't answer him. Instead she grabbed for her hoodie; her hands shaking and her face twisted in pain and anger. Cullen watched her, helplessly.

"Peaches!" she yelled as she pulled on her top. "You always, always, _always_ call me Peaches!"

"I know but-…"

"Why tonight, huh? Why the fuck did you call me Isabella tonight?" She wasn't even looking at him as she struggled to fasten her zip. She looked frantic, lost, and close to losing her shit completely.

"I don't know," Cullen yelled back. He gripped his hair in confusion. "Christ, Bella, would you just breathe for a fucking second. What the _fuck_ is going on?"

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and fierce. "What's going on? I'll tell you what's going on. I came here for a good, hard _fuck_ that I thought was a sure thing, and all I get is you and your stupid, dumb fucking mouth. That's what's going on, Cullen!"

Even though the words that she had spoken had stung, the fury inside of him outweighed any fucking part that hurt. He launched himself off of the bed, beating Peaches to the bedroom door, and blocking that shit with every inch of himself.

"Get out of my way!" she demanded, moving to his right and trying to push under his arm. She was strong for someone so tiny, but Cullen wasn't giving in.

"Not until you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you," he growled, knowing that if he shouted the fucking walls would crumble.

"_You _are what's wrong with me," she spat. "NOW MOVE!"

She pushed on his chest again, but he didn't budge. He stood firm and, for the first time since they had entered the bedroom, Cullen saw a glimmer of light shine behind her eyes. He had surprised her.

"Talk to me," he said firmly as she moved to his left and pushed.

"No!"

"Open your mouth, and fucking speak, Bella!"

"No! Get out of my way!"

He searched her face quickly, seeing only tears and anger. He could feel a sadness roll off of her that was so profound, it took his breath away. "Why are you here?" he asked with a shake of his head. "Why, Bella? Why are you at my apartment, looking like death, after you've ignored my ass for two fucking days?"

Her pushing dropped slightly in its force and her fingers began to grip into his skin. That shit hurt, but Cullen was determined.

"Why are you here wanting me to fuck you, huh? Is this a game? Am I some sort of sick rehabilitation joke to you?"

_That_ shit got a reaction.

Peaches stood up straight and glared at him. "A joke," she repeated. "My God, Cullen. Do you think I find _anything_ about this situation funny?"

"How the fuck would I know?" Cullen asked sharply. "You don't tell me anything!" His palms slapped his thighs in frustration. "I get ignored or I get half truths and mixed messages."

Peaches sucked in a shaking breath and stumbled back from him, yanking her sleeves down over her small hands. Cullen couldn't believe how fragile she looked. Her face was desolate and pained, and Cullen was sure, from the relentless ache in his chest, that he was feeling every single ounce of it.

"What the _hell_ happened to you this week?" he asked with dark eyes and a body full of adrenaline. All he could think about was that some motherfucker had hurt her and, if that were true, that same motherfucker would be read his last rights while he ripped them limb from limb.

Peaches was now pacing, muttering under her breath. Cullen, despising the unfamiliar behaviour that he saw in the woman before him, took a tentative step towards her, moving slowly away from the doorway.

He sure wish he hadn't, as Peaches – as soon as she saw that he had moved - made a mad dash for freedom. Cullen moved to stop her and, in her haste to move out of his way, Peaches skidded on the wood flooring and careened heavily into Cullen's arms, smashing the air from his lungs in a loud whoosh.

"Bella, please," Cullen begged as the pair of them landed in a jumbled heap on the floor. She was still fighting him, still pleading with him to let her go, but he wouldn't give in.

"I can't," she sobbed. "You...you have to let me go..." Her hands were still pushing at his bare chest, but her strength was waning as the sobs began to overtake her.

"I'm not letting you go. I don't give a shit what you do," he replied firmly. He held both of her wrists so that they would stop flailing about and stared deep into her eyes that were now awash with tears.

"I can't...I can't be here...everything...everyone hates...I hurt, I...Cullen."

Cullen tucked her head under his chin and rubbed her hair in an effort to calm her. "Shhh, Bella, I'm here. I'm here. I won't let you go. I'll never let you go."

Her small shoulders shook and, as Cullen loosened his grip on her wrists, she threw her arms around his neck and held him as tightly as he imagined she could. And that was fine. He wanted her to hold him. He wanted to soothe whatever pain she was going through and then find the culprit and make them pay dearly.

"Daddy," she whimpered into his throat. His skin becoming wet from her tears.

Cullen froze; his hand stilling against her. "What?" he muttered, feeling his heart once again pick up pace.

"My dad...I miss him...so, so...so much." Her voice was hoarse and weak, but the desperate grief that laced her words was as loud as anything that Cullen had ever heard. "He died..."

"I know," Cullen said as he closed his eyes and placed a gentle kiss on her head. "I know, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. So sorry," she repeated, each word punctuated with a soft hiccough.

Cullen continued to rub her hair, stealing soft kisses along the parting, breathing her scent deep into his lungs. _Peaches. Sweet. Perfect._

"What are you sorry for?" he asked quietly. He felt her take a deep breath against his chest and waited for her to answer.

"I...I couldn't help him. I couldn't stop them. What they did to him...I couldn't stop them." Her arms tightened around Cullen's neck. "He told me to run...I shouldn't have run."

Cullen's heart thundered in his chest and his forehead broke out into a sweat. _Fuck._ Did she remember? Did she know that it was he that pulled her away: saved her?

"Today," she whispered. "He would be here. Sixteen years...today and...I miss him so fucking much, Cullen."

But Cullen was frozen, his brain moving a million miles a second as he tried to comprehend what she was saying to him. _Could it be?_ Could it really have been sixteen years? Sixteen years since they had first met under such violent, horrific circumstances.

"It was sixteen years ago?" he croaked as he felt her fingers start to play in the hair at the nape of his neck.

She nodded against him, her nose rubbing softly along his jaw, "Sixteen years ago today."

Cullen swallowed and clenched his eyes tightly shut. _Holy shit_. He pulled her closer, burying his face into the space between her neck and shoulder. She felt perfect against him, so small, so soft and delicate.

Images and sounds of the night in question flashed behind his eyelids and blared loudly inside his head: Her screams, her whimpers, and the gunfire: The colour of her dress and the paleness of her skin.

"I...I missed you so much," she whimpered. "I missed you so much this week, Cullen. I couldn't stop thinking about you. I needed you." She kissed the tip of his shoulder sending shivers through his entire body. "I had my whole family around me...and all I wanted was you. I'm sorry."

Cullen's eyes rolled back into his head at the sound of her words and the feel of her lips on his skin. "Shhh, Bella, you're here now," he replied through a throat that suddenly felt two sizes too small. "I'll look after you." _I'll look after you forever._

After a moment of silence, Cullen pushed his free arm under her knees and pulled her securely to his chest. After a couple of attempts, on wobbling legs, he managed to stand, cradling Peaches in his arms. He walked slowly towards the bed; his nose pressed against her wet cheek as he whispered words of comfort to her: _I'm here. It's ok. Hold onto me._

Never letting any single part of her go, he lay down gently onto the bed and held her closely.

And, just as he had sixteen years before, in a cold doorway in the Bronx, he held onto his Peaches so fucking hard, as she grieved for the father who had been so cruelly taken from her.

**Holy emotions all over the show, Batman!**

**I think I need a Valium and a lie down after nearly 16,000 words of these two!**

**I hope you understand the need for Bella to have a mini-breakdown? The poor girl is all over the place, but now she knows what she wants is right. Family and secretive friends, be damned.**

**The next chapter will be pure PAW and Peaches. Our fave couple need a serious talk and um...is that **_**Kal**_**a I see? **

**Sorry for the lack of Peter this chapter, but he didn't seem to fit in anywhere. Believe me when I say, he **_**will**_** be back.**

**PoF has been nominated at the Glosp Awards for **_**'Fic you drop Everything For'. **_**I'd love your vote or vote for your fave: http:(/)glospawards(.)blogspot(.)com/p/vote(.)html**

**Follow me on Twitter: (at)sophiejax**

**Follow PAW on Twitter: (at)PunkAssWard**

**TTFN xx**


	25. Chapter 25

**Hello! *waves and blows kisses* Hope you are all well?**

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN!**

**The reaction to the last update was fantastic. Thank you so, so much. I'm so glad that you understood Isabella's break down and the need for it.**

**Alice and Renee seem to be at the top of everyone's shit list now!**

**So…*looks nervous* this chapter, when I originally completed it, was 19,500 words *gasp* which for one chapter is…well, big! **

**There was a vote on Twitter, and it was decided that it would be best if I split it into two parts – giving you this update now & the second part in a few days – instead of you all waiting 2/3 weeks for the next update. **

**It was the decision I was more in favour of and, as always****, the majority of readers agreed.**

**I know there will be some that aren't happy with this, and all I can do is apologise. But, truthfully, I think it's what is best for Cullen and Isabella's story *gets down from soap box***

**You PAW Princesses are incredible. Thank you for your never ending love and support. I love you.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 24: Remember Me - Act Two**

_Now that you're mine  
We'll find a way  
Of chasing the sun.  
Let me be the one, who shines with you,  
In the morning, we don't know what to do,_

_We're two of a kind  
We'll find a way  
To do what we've done.  
Let me be the one, who shines with you  
And we can slide away_

_**Oasis 'Slide Away'**_

It had taken Peaches a long time to fall asleep.

Cullen knew this because he had waited, in the half darkness, listening for her breathing to even out, and for the fist that was gripping the back of his neck to loosen up. Once one happened, the other had followed within minutes, and Cullen had found _himself_ breathing a huge fucking sigh of relief. Or was it contentment? Either way, he gradually began to relax against the pillows of his bed, holding Peaches to his chest while rubbing his right palm idly down her back, in soothing rotations.

The past few hours had been a complete mind fuck. Cullen wasn't entirely convinced that, at any moment, he wouldn't waken up and find that the whole night had been some surreal nightmare/dream, brought about by the Jack that he had been supping like water. He tightened his arm around Peaches - reassuring himself that she was in fact real - and tucked the cover closer to her waist. He didn't want her to get cold.

He dropped his nose into the hair on the top of her head and breathed in, feeling every muscle in his body tighten and coil. _Goddamn. _He was hard again. No scent had the effect that the sweet peach fragrance of Bella's hair had on him. He wasn't sure whether it was a nostalgic thing or that it was simply because he desired her in indescribably and scary ways. _Whatever._ Now that he had access to that shit, he was going to abuse the fact tirelessly.

She shifted against his side, murmured an unidentifiable word, and nuzzled his neck with her nose. Cullen's eyes closed gently at the sensation of her warm breath as it wafted over the stubble of his throat and jaw. Never, in the nearly twelve years that he had been sexually aware of girls and women, had he ever held one of them the way that he was holding Peaches. And in his fucking bed no less. Rosalie would have a fucking field day with that little nugget of information.

The weird thing, however - and this realization had come quickly to Cullen - was that it didn't feel unnatural. Truth was that shit felt altogether too natural. Just like when they had kissed or when he had had her nipple in his mouth. _Fuck._ That shit just seemed to happen so organically: no pressure, expectation or worry.

Being with Bella that way to Cullen was, not just the sexiest thing he had ever experienced, but also the most uncomplicated. Sure, their relationship was above and beyond unorthodox, and there was a tangled web of shit that would have to be addressed and soon, but everything else just seemed to fade into the background when he had her underneath him, writhing, panting and wanting him. And, fuck, he wanted her too. He was crazy with lust and need for her.

Nonetheless, he had to admit, he had even surprised himself when he had stopped the actions that would have surely resulted in his being inside of her. At the sight of Bella's obvious distress, the panic that he had felt had manifested itself as a lump in his throat and vice around his chest. The damn heartburn had reared its ugly head with a vengeance, and a shiver of fear had snuck down his spine like a winter frost.

He couldn't be with her when she was like that. It was wrong. She wanted him for the wrong reasons. No. That wasn't entirely true. She _did_ want to be with him - she'd told him so - but the timing was all wrong. She had clearly been through hell the past seven days, and, with the anniversary of her father's death hanging over her, there was no way that Cullen could have continued. Another first.

Yeah, he had been a fucking asshole with women in the past, but Bella was different. She was his Peaches and he cared about her. _Cared._ Yeah, cared was the right word. He was comfortable with that shit. He could deal with that.

He sighed and smiled gently to himself as he watched Bella's head rise at the same time that his chest did. She certainly fit well against him. And she had felt goddamn perfect wrapped around him before the shit had hit the fucking fan.

Her reaction to the name Isabella was as shocking as it was bizarre. Cullen had had no clue as to why she had become so irate. As he watched her sleep - her face so damn beautiful and peaceful - he could only surmise that she related that particular name to someone else who, for reasons he was fucking determined to discover, she despised, or certainly disliked very much. The ferocity with which she had reacted and the force with which she had pushed and shoved at him would have been hot as fuck, had Cullen not been worried sick about her.

It was a fucking paradox of epic proportions. Bella's feistiness and her fierceness were just two of the reasons why Cullen gravitated to her so much. It was so fucking sexy when she put him in his place – he had been hard the very second that she had first stood up to him at Arthur Kill. Her strength seemed to call to a part of Cullen that he didn't even know existed, but strangely, seeing her so lost and distraught while she paced around his room, had called to an even bigger part: the part that wanted to care for and protect.

Cullen knew that he was possessive of his Peaches, and that that possessiveness was driven by the jealous and controlling asshole within him. _This_ possessiveness, however, came from a place of fear. Cullen had been terrified - as she shouted, cried and lashed out - that someone had hurt her or caused her pain, and, as well as making him livid, it also scared the shit out of him. If she'd been hurt while she was away from him, he would never have forgiven himself which was, for many reasons, fucking ridiculous. No matter. The truth was Cullen wasn't quite sure what the hell he would do if something happened to her.

He looked once again at Bella's sleeping form, and swallowed down his fear. _She's here. She's safe._ His arms tightened around her even more, making her release a shaky breath, and he snuck another deep sniff from her luscious, thick curls. _Perfect._

Yeah, he cared about her he thought as he closed his eyes and held her close. He cared about her a whole fucking heap.

=PoF=

As Isabella opened her eyes, she was certain of two things simultaneously. Firstly, she wasn't in her own bed. It was far too comfy and large to be hers. And secondly, she wasn't alone. She was being spooned, quite generously, by a very large, very warm, masculine shaped body: A warm, masculine body that was breathing rhythmically, and heavily, into her right ear.

Isabella looked down gradually at the bare, muscled forearm that was holding her firmly around the waist - allowing her eyes to wander slowly up past his elbow to the black, grey and red of the tattoos that decorated the smooth skin. Before she got any further she clenched her eyes tightly shut as flashes of the night before pummeled her head, leaving her equal parts horrified and mystified.

Why the _hell_ would Cullen allow her into his bed when she had behaved so fucking appallingly?

She had behaved like a fucking lunatic; embarrassed herself and treated Cullen like a damn punching bag. Was she insane? Jesus, what had she been thinking getting a cab to his apartment when she had been drunk?

Speaking of which, her mouth felt like she had breathing almond flavor sand paper all night, and her eyes were sticky from the tears that she had cried for the best part of three days. How could she have let Cullen see her this way? _I'll never let you go._ _I fucking need it. _His voice and words echoed in her brain and the feeling of absolute safety and relief that had washed over her as he had held her and soothed her, whispered under her skin as she shifted Cullen's arm.

He grunted quietly into her hair, making the area between Isabella's legs heat instantly at the memory of him above her: grinding her, sucking and licking her - _His mouth on her breast, sucking her tongue, moaning in her ear._ Christ, she had almost seduced him. He had almost let her. _Fuck_. They had almost had sex! Granted, that had been her game plan from the minute her stupid, drunken ass had sat down in the taxi cab - but that was beside the fucking point. She hadn't been thinking clearly. Or had she? _Goddamn it._

She rubbed a hand down her face and shifted a little more, taking Cullen's wrist in her hand as gently as she could while lifting it from her waist. His response was quick and immediate. He clamped his arm back around her, pulling her body hard against his. Isabella could feel his crotch pressing nicely against her ass, and bit the inside of her lip to stop the moan of surprise from escaping. _Oh God._ Was he _hard_?

Cullen exhaled heavily and muttered a curse into the nape of her neck.

"Where ya goin'?" he grumbled. His breath was warm and his voice was gruff and sexy from sleep.

"Um…bathroom?" she replied quietly.

Cullen's grip on her didn't loosen instantly. Instead, he took a deep breath of her hair and mumbled something unintelligible, before he lifted his arm and rolled back. Isabella tried to ignore the bereft feeling that instantly entered her spine when the cold air hit her as he moved away, and pushed the covers back with a sigh.

Her legs felt a little unstable as she stood up from the bed and wandered sleepily towards the en-suite, not daring to look back at the man that she had left alone. She closed the door with a small click and dropped her forehead against it with a thump. What the _fuck_ was she doing?

Well, the answer to that was fairly fucking self explanatory. She had used Cullen as a venting block, screaming board and potential fuck buddy, in order to clear her head of the anger and the grief that had ripped her chest wide open on the day she had left her Grandmother's and driven for fifteen hours straight from Chicago to New York. And that was _after _she had smashed her cell phone against the sidewalk when her phone had begun to ring and beep incessantly.

Why the hell did her mother _or_ Alice think that she would want to speak to either of them again? _Ever?_

There was no way in hell that shit was happening any time soon.

Isabella stumbled back from the door; looking around at the beautiful marble floor and stunning shower stand in the bathroom, and shuffled over to the huge mirror that was hanging on the wall. Jesus Christ, she looked like death. She hurriedly grabbed some toilet paper, and ran it under the facet, before wiping vigorously at the skin under her eyes in an attempt to erase the mascara that was lying there in all its hideously smudged glory. She looked exactly how she felt: tired, angry and alone.

She threw the paper into the toilet and leaned heavily against the side of the wash hand basin. No, she thought quickly. That wasn't right. She wasn't alone. The fact that she was standing in Cullen's apartment proved that. He was the only one who seemed to understand her; who seemed to know what she needed or even wanted. He knew her in a way that no one else did, and it was in a way that both excited and terrified her. She had feelings for him, of that there was no doubt. She had even told her father, and his response had been a hell of a lot more positive than the rest of her family's.

She just wished that she'd thought a little bit more about the consequences before turning up on Cullen's damn doorstep and telling him that she wanted him to fuck her.

But, the truth was, the only thing she had thought about, as she had driven through the night, was getting to Cullen. The only person that she had wanted to see was Cullen. The only voice that she had thought about hearing was Cullen's. The only arms that she wanted around her, the only chest that she wanted to press her face into, the only mouth she wanted against hers and the only scent she wanted to breathe in were Cullen's.

She wanted him and needed him - and had shown it by launching herself at him like a damn slut. _Win!_

Her mother would have been _so_ proud, she thought sardonically.

She used the toilet quickly, washed her hands, rinsed out her mouth and moved back towards the door; cupping an ear to it, listening for Cullen on the other side. It was silent. As quietly as she could, she turned the handle and opened it, peeking gingerly around the door jamb.

Cullen's voice was soft and deep. "Hey."

He was sitting - looking beautifully disheveled – on top of the covers, against the headboard of his bed, bare-chested and crumpled, with his jean clad legs crossed casually at the ankles. His jeans sat comfortably under his belly button, showing a trail of course, auburn hair that disappeared to…well, further down.

Isabella cleared her throat and ran a nervous hand through her hair as she walked back into the bedroom. She stopped about two feet from the edge of the bed, not really knowing what she should say or do, as she twisted her hands together at her stomach. She eventually glanced up to see Cullen's face was gentle; expecting nothing. She breathed a little easier and gave him a small smile.

"How ya doin'?" he asked with a slight frown above the bridge of his nose.

Isabella nodded. "I'm ok," she answered. _Embarrassed, tired and uncomfortable, but ok._

A smile spread across Cullen's face as he raised a knowing eyebrow at her. "You're a shit fucking liar, Bella, I'll give you that." He shook his head and gently patted his palm on the bed space next to him. "Come here."

Isabella felt her body flush and her eyes widen. "What?" she asked stupidly to which Cullen simply continued patting the bed.

He looked extremely sexy and mischievous, but there was also a tenderness in his eyes that Isabella could do nothing but trust. She took another tentative step towards the bed, and watched as Cullen pulled the covers back for her; remaining on top of them. She stopped again, wondering if it was a good idea to get back into his bed. Not that it didn't sound or even look, like a great idea. She just didn't want to make him feel obliged in any way after her horrendous, drunken declarations.

"Cullen, I-"

"Bella," Cullen interrupted with a slight sigh and a dip of his chin. "It's six-thirty on a fucking Sunday morning. Now, I don't know about you, but I could sure as hell sleep another few hours."

Isabella couldn't help but laugh lightly at his expression as she tucked her hair behind her ears. She was so very tired. Her whole body felt exhausted.

"Ok," she murmured as she slowly kneeled onto the bed and shuffled ungracefully under the covers as Cullen tucked them around her.

She paused for a moment, loving the softness of the mattress and pillows, before she turned her head back towards Cullen. He was looking down at her, leaning over her on his left forearm. The tenderness of his eyes had dissolved into something else that made Isabella's heart race and her mouth dry. He looked _hungry_.

"I…I thought you were sleeping too?" she asked with a nod towards the bed.

His eyes seemed to snap back into focus and he frowned in response, clearly confused. "I will."

"So why are you not under the covers?"

Cullen's cheeks tinged a slight pink and he shifted away from her a little; the muscles in his chest tightening minutely.

"Yeah," he croaked. "I um…" He glanced down at himself. "I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable. So, I'll…shit, I'll just stay here. I'm fine."

After watching his face for a few seconds as he evaded her gaze, Isabella released an incredulous and almost hysterical laugh. Hadn't this man been between her legs with his mouth on her nipple not seven hours earlier? Hadn't she cried and sobbed into his neck as she told him that she needed him, and missed him, while he promised to never let her go?

And yet, there they were, like two virgins on prom night! The two of them were a disaster, for sure.

"Cullen." She snorted tiredly as she nuzzled the pillow under her head. "Shut up and get under the covers."

He didn't move for a while, but she could feel the bed jiggling as though he was shaking his foot or something. _Was he nervous?_ Just as she was about to turn back around and tell him to move his ass, Isabella felt the covers lift and his body move smoothly underneath them. He was close enough to her that she could feel the heat radiating from his body and she instinctively moved back towards it.

"Are you…are you cold?" he asked quietly. His voice, although concerned, sounded tight and anxious.

"A little," she replied as she pulled the covers tightly into the crook of her neck.

Isabella's breath caught in her throat as, after a moment of silent stillness, she suddenly felt Cullen's hand slide slowly and hesitantly along her waist. His little finger lightly grazed the skin of her hip before he pulled her body firmly against his so that they were spooning; just as they had been when she had first woken up.

At first, Isabella tensed, and silently willed her body to keep calm and stay quiet. It was embarrassing to simply _think_ about how much his touch affected her. Her heart raced, her skin tingled and the juncture between her thighs throbbed with an aching need that took her breath away.

But, as she felt Cullen's solid chest press into her back and his strong arm wind gently around her, Isabella's body began to melt and relax. She had never felt as safe as she did when she was in Cullen's arms. Never felt as protected, comforted or cared for. It felt so normal to be so close to him; so ordinary and familiar.

"Is this ok?" Cullen whispered, his breath caressing the skin of Isabella's neck like silk, making her eyes roll back into her head.

"Yeah," she answered. "It's ok. Thank you."

"No problem," he sighed in response and nuzzled her hair with the tip of his nose.

With a contented smile, Isabella slowly placed her palm over the back of his hand - against her stomach - and pushed her fingers, little by little, into the spaces between his.

It didn't surprise her, when she realized, that they fit perfectly.

=PoF=

It was a little before eleven when Cullen opened his eyes again.

For a split second he wondered where the fuck he was, until he realized that Bella's hair was covering his face like a peachy scented, brunette mask. _Nice._ After stealing another quick breath of her, he moved his head back and felt a tug of contentment in his stomach when he saw that they had not moved from their original position, and that their hands were still entwined against her body.

Cullen would have quite happily lay next to Bella, and watched her sleep until she woke up, and he would have had it not been for the screaming of his goddamn bladder that felt like it was the size of fucking Texas. Coupled with the raging boner that he had been sporting for the best part of twelve hours, all was not copasetic or fucking comfortable.

Christ, he needed a piss. And something to eat.

Carefully, and somewhat begrudgingly, Cullen pulled his hand from Bella's grip - smiling smugly at the frowning pout that graced her face as he did - and hauled balls to the bathroom so that he could relieve himself. He was more than a little happy that his cock listened to the stern talking to that he gave it; otherwise he would have been pissing up the fucking wall.

In all fairness, it wasn't his fault that he had been hard. After Bella had ground her shit all over it, it was pretty difficult to calm down. In fact, Cullen was amazed that she hadn't felt or seen it the first time that she had woken up. At least he hoped that she hadn't, but that shit was hard to hide in just jeans and no underwear. No pun intended.

It wasn't that he was embarrassed about that shit, hell, it was a natural reaction to have when a guy had a beautiful woman in his bed; he just didn't want her to think that he wasn't sensitive to her pain, grief or distress. Of course he was. His cock was just a little slow on the uptake.

After washing his hands, face and teeth, he slinked back into the bedroom to see that Bella was still out for the count. As gently as he was able, he pulled the coves up to her chin, making sure that she didn't get cold without him. She had been freezing at six- thirty this morning, which had meant he was allowed to hold her again. He had never _ever_ been a hugger, but with Bella it was different: nice different, but, still _different_.

She shifted a little, snuggling the pillow and exhaled a breathy moan. Cullen felt his lips twitch with a smile and, before he could stop it, his hand was pushing her hair back from her cheek, and tucking it behind her ear. He liked seeing her whole face.

He suddenly remembered the first time that he had done that: in Arthur Kill, in full view of the cameras and security guard. She had blushed so beautifully under his touch. It was a sign of her vulnerability that was as sexy as it was disarming. He'd have given anything to have been able to press his lips to her pink cheek back then, just to feel the heat of it. But that had been impossible given their location and company.

Gradually, Cullen looked up from Bella's sleeping form, glanced around him self; taking in the empty, camera less room, and smirked. God bless motherfucking parole.

Closing the bedroom door gently behind him, Cullen padded barefoot into the kitchen heading straight for the coffee machine. He was in serious need of some clarity and a fucking smoke, which he grabbed from the table in the sitting room. With said smoke dangling from his lips, he changed the coffee filter, re-filled it and turned it on with an impatient sigh.

Fucking thing took forever.

As he took a long drag from his cigarette he looked questioningly at the doors of his cupboards and fridge, wondering to all hell whether he had _anything_ in the entire apartment that they could have for breakfast. Bella was bound to be hungry. He opened the fridge door and bent down to take a good look: Butter, milk, Nutella and, oddly, a jar of pickles, were all that graced the otherwise bare shelves. Nutrition was clearly not a word that could be found in Cullen's urban dictionary.

"Shit," he muttered as he slammed the door shut and took another pull off of his smoke before throwing it, unceremoniously, into the sink.

"That's a hygiene risk."

Cullen spun around and gripped the edge of the counter for dear life, at the sound of Bella's voice. "Fuck!"

"Oh God," she cried apologetically as she cupped her hands to her mouth. "I didn't mean to make you jump."

Cullen took a deep calming breath and held up his palm, "It's ok, just, ya know, warn a fucker before ya sneak up on him."

Bella frowned playfully, dropped her hands and smiled. "Wouldn't that defeat the object of sneaking?"

Cullen couldn't help but roll his eyes and shake his head. "Well, shit, I'm glad to see that your awesome sense of humor is back in full force. Congratulations."

Bella laughed lightly, but it didn't last long. She looked around herself and, after apparently realizing where she was, seemed to become suddenly embarrassed and timid. It aggravated Cullen no end when she pulled shit like that. Not to mention the fact that it wasn't her at all. _His_ Peaches was strong and feisty. He sighed as he looked at her. Two steps forward and three of the fuckers back, he thought wearily.

"I'll, um…I'll be out of your hair in just a few minutes," she muttered as she crossed the apartment towards her flip-flops that were still lying from where they had fallen from her feet when Cullen had picked her up.

"You don't have to leave," Cullen said as gently as his annoyance would allow. "I made coffee."

"Its fine," Bella replied with a small dismissive wave, which was like a red rag to a bull.

Cullen didn't want her to go. There were things to say goddamn it, shit that needed discussing. He was sick of her fucking evasiveness and her penchant for fucking running from him. Enough was enough.

Cullen's hand connected hard with the counter top, "Bella!"

Her head snapped up in surprise and her eyes flashed with the fire that Cullen missed so damned much. "What?" she snapped back.

Cullen suppressed a smile of smug satisfaction. _Yeah, she's still in there._ "Sit your bony ass down and have a fucking cup of coffee."

She stood to her full height - which wasn't fucking much - and lifted her chin in defiance as she narrowed her eyes at him. "_Don't_ tell me what to do."

Cullen felt his cock start to pay particular attention to her tone. "You're in _my_ apartment and you will do as you're told," he said firmly.

He pointed sharply with his index finger to the stool on her side of the counter, daring her with his eyes to say no. She didn't. After a long moment of tense silence, Bella huffed loudly down her nose, and moved over to the stool, sliding onto it.

"Fine," she grumbled, "Gimme the damn coffee."

Victorious, Cullen moved around the kitchen, grabbing two mugs, sugar, and the milk from the fridge. Twice he looked back at Bella to see that her eyes were on him, and, both times, he noticed, they weren't on his face. The first time he caught her, she was looking at his still bare chest, and the second time he was convinced that her eyes were on his ass. To say that he didn't like the way she looked at him would have made him a bare-faced fucking liar. He did like it. He liked it very much.

He pushed her mug towards her and watched in amusement as she mirrored his movements with the sugar and the milk exactly. Hell, even their spoon stirring was identical: four times, anti-clockwise. Cullen snickered and Bella shook her head, sipping her coffee silently.

"So," Cullen said eventually. "What are your plans for today?"

Bella dropped her eyes back to her hands around the mug. "No plans," she said quietly with a shrug.

Cullen nodded and tapped his index finger against the granite. "Well, I need a shower first, but, um…I'll take you home."

"You don't need to do that," Bella replied quickly.

"I know I don't _need_ to, Bella. I _want_ to," Cullen bit back.

"I'll get a cab."

"No. _I'll_ take you home."

"Why?" 

"Do I need a fucking reason?"

"Yes."

Cullen looked at her with a mixture of rage, frustration and hurt. Was it really too much for her to allow him to make sure she got home ok? _Fuck this shit._ He exhaled heavily, feeling his jaw flex and tense in anger, and necked the last of his coffee before launching the mug into the sink.

"Whatever, Peaches," he fumed above the clatter of the porcelain hitting the steel. "Do what ever the fuck you want."

He turned from her and began storming his way back towards the bedroom, mumbling and cursing under his breath as he did. His hand was on the door handle when he felt her small fingers grab onto his left forearm.

"Cullen."

He didn't turn back to her, but he_ did_ stop. He was powerless not to. "What?" he snapped while keeping his eyes on the spot where she was holding him.

"I'm…I'm sorry," she whispered. "I am…_so_ sorry."

Cullen felt his chest squeeze at the sound of her small voice and was fucking convinced that his heart was going to jump right through his ribs when he felt her forehead lean against his shoulder blade. Her hand moved slowly, up and down his arm, bringing up goose bumps all across his skin.

"What are you sorry for, Bella?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head against him and breathed across his back. "For everything," she replied. "You've done so much and…and I'm just being a fucking bitch." She sniffed and her grip on his arm increased. "You don't deserve that. I'm sorry."

With a deep breath, Cullen turned around slowly and looked at her. She was looking at her feet and that immediately incensed him. He lifted her chin up with his right hand and stared hard into her brown, tear filled eyes.

"Don't ever look down like that when you're around me, Bella. That's not the Peaches I know. Don't let those fuckers win."

The corners of her mouth tugged in a small, knowing smile, and two trails of salt water slipped slowly down her cheeks.

"Come here," he breathed as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest. He swallowed when he felt no resistance from her as she curled her arms around his waist, and he lowered his nose to her hair.

"I know you're hurting," he murmured. "So let me do what I can to ease it."

She nodded and Cullen sucked in a surprised breath when he felt her lips touch the skin at the side of his right nipple. "I will," she replied. "I promise."

He stroked his palm down her hair. "So you're gonna let me take you home?"

She lifted her face from him and wiped at her tears. "Sure," she answered. "Thank you."

"No problem," he said as he let his thumb caress the side of her face. He leaned down slowly and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Give me five minutes, okay?"

"Okay."

##

Twenty minutes later, and Cullen was leading a nervous looking Peaches down to the garage in the basement of his building.

"You've ridden a motorcycle before, right?" he asked, trying like hell to hide the lusty excitement that was pumping through ever fucking inch of his body.

_Bella and Kala. Bella and Kala. Bella and Kala, like, together. At the same time._

"Yeah," she replied carefully as they approached _Kala._ "But riding with you…that's a little different."

Cullen frowned as he passed her a helmet. "And why's that?"

Bella gestured meekly with her hand towards Cullen, making him look down at himself in confusion: black boots, dark blue jeans, dark green, vintage Zeppelin t-shirt, leather jacket. He also had a black beanie on his head to hide his helmet hair, because that shit just wasn't cool _or _sexy.

He looked back at Bella to see her looking at him in a way that made his jeans feel really fucking tight. The fact that she had on one of his sweaters did nothing to help the fucking matter. _Jesus_, she even licked her lips. He cocked an eyebrow at her and cleared his throat to get her attention. Her eyes snapped up from his chest and he chuckled behind his hand.

"So, Peaches," he growled as he popped his collar. "Am I sexy or beautiful right now?"

Her cheeks flashed pink and her eyes widened. _Busted._ "Shut up," she muttered and pulled the helmet onto her head.

He snorted and did the same. "You're too easy," he murmured as she evaded his eyes. He could see she was smiling, however, and that made him feel more than a little warm inside.

He threw his leg over _Kala's_ seat, put on his shades, and looked back at Bella. He cocked his head and smiled.

"Ya comin'?"

She exhaled shakily and moved towards him. With one lithe movement, her leg was over the seat and she was holding onto Cullen with her arms around his chest, and her thighs at either side of his. Cullen shook his head of the explicit visual that flashed behind his eyes and grumbled a few choice expletives as he turned the key in the ignition. He could feel her pressed up against him and he could only imagine what it would be like to turn around and have her in that very position. _One day…_

"You ready?" he called over the grumbling engine as he maneuvered the bike with his feet towards the exit.

"As I'll ever be," she called back.

Cullen smiled as her arms gripped him hard, at the same time that her thighs did, when he revved the engine. He was fairly sure that, if he hadn't had to concentrate on driving his bike and keeping Bella safe on the back of it, he would have had an orgasm on the spot. With her heat pressed into him so tightly, the smell of rich gasoline and the sound of _Kala's_ engine roaring, Cullen knew he was pretty damn close to heaven.

Glancing up and down the windy street outside his apartment building, Cullen tapped the clutch and they set off at speed, across town, towards Bella's apartment.

=PoF=

Isabella had been on a lot of motorcycles growing up. Her father had loved them, and, every summer, he had taken Isabella to La Push near Forks, where they had ridden for hours and hours, up and down the sandy beach. She had loved the feeling of freedom, even as she had clung onto her daddy for dear life. She loved the sensation of flying and the sounds and smells that the bike made. It was always perfect.

Riding on a motorcycle with Cullen, however, was an entirely different experience. Edward Cullen was probably the most casually sexy man Isabella had ever met. He oozed sexiness without even trying, whether he was wearing prison order overalls or a green Zeppelin t-shirt that made his eyes pop. Seeing Edward Cullen on a motorbike took that casual sexiness, multiplied it by about a billion, and served it with a side helping of hot fucking and hour long orgasms.

He looked sensational sitting astride the damn thing, and Isabella had had to work damn hard at trying to keep herself together. "Am I sexy or beautiful?" he had asked. Was he _crazy_? He was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen at that moment, and the sex rolled off of him in waves. Her lust for him had certainly spiked to new heights of ridiculousness.

Which was why she was allsorts of fucking puzzled with her self when she invited him up to her apartment.

Surely she needed time to cool down and regroup? No. They had too much to talk about. Too much still needed to be said, and today was the time for it to happen.

She glanced at him as they rode the elevator in silence. His profile was strong and masculine and she had the sudden urge to kiss every inch of his jaw. He had been so good to her over the last fourteen hours that she was, truthfully, finding it hard to say goodbye to him. She had tried to be sharp and nasty with him earlier that morning so that he would let her go, but when she had seen the anger and hurt in his face, she had been helpless to stop herself from following him.

He was too good to be treated that way. She knew that he cared for her, and was, in his own way, looking out for her. Looking out for her like her family should have done. _Fuck 'em._

She unlocked her apartment door and gestured for Cullen to enter in front of her. He smiled tightly and stepped in. She followed slowly and watched him as he placed his bike helmets on the side table. The silence was thunderous, and the tension between them, as they stood opposite one another, shifted from heated sex to anxiety and back again. Isabella ran a hand through her hair and broke her gaze from his.

"Drink?" she offered.

"Sure," he replied. His voice was rough and deep.

She felt him follow her across the apartment to the kitchen, where he stood and waited while she poured him the orange juice that he had asked for. She felt his eyes on her, just as she had watched him in his own kitchen that morning. It was bizarre how aware of him Isabella was. Her whole body seemed to gravitate to his like a magnet. But it had always been that way; she'd just been too busy trying to keep up a professional demeanor with him to notice its strength before. Now, she reveled in it. It was a comforting feeling, knowing that he was nearby.

"Are you hungry?" she asked as she watched him glance around her apartment.

He looked back at her and laughed lightly. "I'm fucking starving," he answered and rubbed his belly playfully.

Isabella couldn't help but laugh with him. "Okay," she said as she placed her glass down and walked over to the fridge. "Let's see what I've got."

There wasn't much, but there was enough to make bacon and tomato omelets. Cullen didn't look convinced when Isabella offered him as much, but she assured him that she was a master at the any type of egg cuisine.

"Fine," he smiled at her. "Impress me with your egg cooking prowess. I'm so hungry right now, I couldn't give a shit."

"Well, thanks," Isabella replied as she put all the ingredients on the counter top. "Hey, Cullen, can you cook bacon?" She asked him the question as though he were a small child, knowing that it would bug him to shit.

Cullen scoffed and rolled his eyes as he shook out of his jacket, "Of fucking course. Why?"

Isabella smirked at his expression before turning to the grill of her oven. "I need you to brown the bacon while I take a shower." She turned back to him and grinned. "Think you can handle that?"

"Bella, please," Cullen retorted as he grabbed the pack of bacon and pushed her out of the way of the oven. "Go and have your shower, and leave this shit to me." He grabbed her shoulders and moved her out of the way.

"Be gone," he said firmly as he pushed her out of the kitchen space and waved her away.

He gave her a grin that made his face appear crooked and winked. Isabella held the pathetically girly sigh that threatened to break from her lungs, and turned quickly towards her bedroom.

Once in there she grabbed at the hem of the sweater that Cullen had given her and pulled it up and over her self. With a rapid glance back at the door - making sure that she had closed it properly - she held the sweater to her nose and breathed the scent of it in. It was entirely Cullen. It was smoky, metallic, with a hint of cologne that she wasn't familiar with, but loved all the same.

She pulled it from her nose, folded it, and laid it on her bed. He'd given it to her because he didn't want her to get cold on the bike. He'd not been happy with her wearing flip flops, but his feet were at least seven sizes bigger than hers. There was no way she was borrowing sneakers.

After staring at the sweater for a short time while thinking about the implications of such a gesture, Isabella stripped and scuttled into the bathroom, trying like hell to ignore the fact that she was naked while Cullen was in her apartment.

##

Redressed in skinny black jeans, Blondie t-shirt, and with her damp hair in a knot at her neck, Isabella sauntered back into the kitchen to find Cullen leaning casually against the counter, reading _'Walter the Lazy Mouse'_: the copy that _he_ had bought her for her birthday. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him turn the page, seemingly engrossed in whichever part he was up to.

"How's the bacon coming along?" she asked softly as she moved towards him.

"Shhh," he replied. His eyes never left the page as he put his index finger to his lips. "Walter is asleep."

"Loser," Isabella murmured behind a small smile as she grabbed a bowl, pan and a knife for chopping the tomatoes.

She felt Cullen move around her as he placed the book back carefully next to the flower pot where it had been, since Isabella had left it there, two days before. When she'd arrived back from Chicago, she'd read it out loud to a captivated audience of a framed picture of her father, and a bottle of Amaretto. _Good times._

"Can I help?" Cullen asked as he slipped his hands into his jeans pockets while rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Sure," Isabella replied as she held out a large bowl and an egg carton. "Start cracking."

Isabella was quite surprised at how well Cullen worked in the kitchen. He seemed fairly domesticated, which was at the very least, sexy as hell.

"It's rude to stare," he pointed out as she watched him whisk the eggs.

"Sorry," she muttered.

She hadn't even realized that she _had_ been staring; it was just that she was fascinated by the muscles in his forearm, and the way in which they flexed and tensed as he moved. Coupled with the tattoos that ended at his elbows, he was quite the sight to behold.

"I'm just surprised at how good you are in the kitchen," she added nonchalantly.

Cullen smiled mischievously. "Oh, Peaches, I have _many_ talents that you don't know about."

Isabella smiled at his tone and bit the inside of her mouth as she remembered some of the talents she _did_ know about. The feeling of his mouth on her body: the way that his tongue flicked at her nipple, before he sucked it into his mouth like it was candy, the way his hands gripped her - firmly and passionately - in all the right places and the delicious pressure of his cock, as he ground it perfectly between her legs.

She rubbed the back of her neck with her sweating palm, cleared her throat, and resumed her tomato chopping as best as she could.

"You're all flushed."

Cullen's voice came from behind her, right into her left ear. Isabella's spine straightened instantly and her clit pulsed like a fucking heat seeker. He put the bowl down next to her chopping board and leaned against the counter, trapping her between his arms.

"Wanna tell me what you're thinking about?" he asked in a low rumble that she felt in his chest, which was now pressing against her back.

She leaned her head back so that it was resting slightly on his shoulder. "No," she breathed.

Cullen laughed quietly as his nose ran up along her jaw to her earlobe. "From the color of your skin," he whispered. "I can bet that it was something _really_ fucking good."

"Mmhm," she answered.

He laughed deep and sexy. "Peaches," he breathed as his hands meandered their way slowly to her waist.

"Yeah."

"The bacon's burning."

Isabella's eyes flew open and the smell of the burning meat registered instantly in her nostrils. "Fuck!" she cried as she shoved past a chuckling Cullen and yanked the grilling tray from under the heat.

It was smoking and a little crisp though it wasn't entirely unsalvageable, but Isabella couldn't help but glare at Cullen who was trying his hardest to look innocent, and failing miserably.

"Hey," he said with a small laugh. "You just asked me to watch it while you were in the shower. You are no longer in the shower so I withhold all responsibility."

Isabella tried to fight the smile, but it was far too strong. She couldn't resist the adorable side of Cullen. He was…well, adorable.

For the next ten minutes, while Isabella cooked the omelets, Cullen asked her about how work was going at Arthur Kill. He asked about her students, especially Emmett, and was fairly excited to learn that Emmett's parole meeting was within the next two weeks. Isabella knew that the two men shared a close friendship, but she had no idea that they had known each other for ten years and had helped each other out of many a close scrape with the law; though Cullen failed to embellish on what those scrapes were.

It was apparent that Emmett and Cullen's love of cars, and all things metal and fast, was what had brought them together. "He's a total grease monkey that fucker." Cullen had smiled. "He knows his shit."

This lead to Isabella asking him about his love of bikes and the origins of it. She loved how his face seemed to light up when he spoke about _Kala._ Cullen explained that his best friend's father had been a mechanic, and that he had practically lived in the shop from the age of nine, watching and listening as cars and bikes were brought in, disassembled and rebuilt over and over. Cullen had learned everything he knew about engines right there.

He'd owned seven bikes in his life time, but _Kala_ was his favorite. He had built her from practically nothing, after paying some, 'cock loving asshole' $100 to take her off his hands before he dumped her at a trash site. She had taken Cullen and his friend Jake nearly a year to complete – what with Cullen being in and out of court – and he was grossly protective of her.

Isabella was more than a little smug that she had been allowed to ride on his precious _Kala_, knowing what the bike meant to him.

Despite his initial protestations, Cullen devoured the omelet that she placed in front of him, with a few grunts and words of appreciation. "Damn, Peaches, this shit _is_ good," he mumbled through a mouthful to which Isabella simply smiled.

It was absurdly normal, having Cullen sitting at her dining table with her, and Isabella at once realized that she wanted it to happen more often. She wondered quietly to herself whether he would want that too. _Maybe._

They had both finished, with their empty plates between them, and were arguing playfully over who was better: The Beatles or The Stones, when Isabella's apartment phone began ringing. The sound made Isabella's chest tense and her heart slam against her ribs. _Oh God._ Her cell phone had met its maker three days ago and she still hadn't spoken to anyone other than Nana Boo, whom she called to say that she had arrived home safely.

Cullen turned around slowly and looked at the still ringing phone. Isabella could see that he was curious as to why she hadn't answered it, but, to his credit, he didn't say anything. Isabella fisted her hands in her lap as the answer machine kicked in.

"Isabella, it's your mother."

_Fuck._

"I know that you're home, Nana told me. We need to talk…I …there are things to be said…dealt with and the way that you left, Isabella, was…Alice is frantic and still _very_ upset. I can't…I don't understand you. Call me."

The beep of the message ending echoed around the apartment, and rattled to the very core of Isabella's bones. Her mother sounded tired but there was still an edge of self righteous ignorance to her words that made the blood in Isabella's veins boil. If her mother thought that she was going to apologize to anyone, then she was sorely fucking mistaken. Isabella hadn't done anything wrong. It was all of them and their pathetic blindness: Their blindness to Isabella's wants and needs. None of them understood her heart. _None_ of them.

Her father would have understood. Isabella's eyes stung. God, she missed him.

Cullen turned back around and watched Isabella carefully. He leaned his forearms on the table and sighed. His face was concerned with a tinge of anger around his green eyes.

"Are you ok?" he asked softly with a dip of his chin.

Isabella nodded, not trusting her own voice.

"Wanna talk about it?"

She shook her head sharply but gave an apologetic smile which he returned with a tender, "Okay."

He sat back in his seat, his eyes still on her as she tried like hell to keep the angry, hurt tears back. She wrapped her arms around herself and exhaled through pursed lips in an effort to calm down. She felt embarrassed that Cullen had heard her mother, but was also strangely comforted by the protectiveness that he exuded when the message had finished. Deep in her heart, she was so glad that he was there with her.

"Bella?"

She looked up at the sound of Cullen's voice and felt two large tears fall onto her arms.

"Do you, um…d'ya wanna get outta here? Go somewhere?"

She wiped at her face, puzzled by his question, "Where?"

He shrugged and smiled in a way that made his eyes sparkle. "I don't know."

Isabella smiled back and sniffed.

"You want to?" He asked again, "Just you an me?"

She nodded without hesitation, knowing that she wanted nothing more than to just be with him; away from all the fuckery that was going on around her.

"Good," he murmured.

He stood determinedly, pushing his chair back with his legs, and walked to Isabella's side. He held his palm out for her and waited with patient eyes. Safe eyes. Beautiful, good eyes.

As soon as Isabella's palm touched Cullen's she felt better, calmer, freer. It was the strangest sensation, but she had the sudden urge to tell him so; to tell him that she was home with him. To tell him that it was the simplest gestures of his that had the largest affect on her heart.

Cullen pulled her up and cupped her cheeks in his large, safe hands.

"Just you and me," he repeated in a soft whisper as his eyes roamed across her face. His fingers stroked a piece of her hair, and he tucked it gently behind her ear. "For one day. Let's just forget all of the bullshit, and be you and me."

Isabella's heart stuttered in her chest as she looked up into his dark green eyes and saw everything that she had ever wanted or desired. No more hiding, she thought to herself.

_I want you. I want to be with you._

_I missed you so much. I need you so much._

_I…I think I love you._

Closing her eyes as the warmth of that realization rose through her body, Isabella leaned her face into Cullen's warm palms, and smiled, "You and me."

**Holy PAW on **_**Kala**_** in a leather jacket, shades and beanie, Batman! *sneaks off for quiet time***

**So, this is Act Two and Act Three will be up in a few days.**

**After that updates will be every ****two**** weeks. Upcoming exams and open evenings at work are just making writing regularly a nightmare. I know you understand. Thank you.**

**Confessions a plenty in the next chapter – hold onto your panties, girls! S'all I'm sayin'!**

**Follow me on Twitter for update info:- (at)sophiejax**

**Follow PAW on Twitter because he's sexy:- (at)PunkAssWard**

**Leave me love…or hate.**

**TTFN xxx**


	26. Chapter 26

**Songs for the chapter: **_The End - Kings of Leon (Riding Kala scene.) Goddamn, You're Beautiful - Chester See (Central Park scene) Endlessly – Green River Ordinance (PAW apartment scene)_

**There's not much for me to do here but pray.**

**See you on the other side…*runs away***

**Chapter 25: Remember Me – Act Three**

_Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made _

_For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. _

_If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, _

_Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; _

_Which if thou please to hide in this true breast _

_And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, _

_I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, _

_And humbly beg the death upon my knee, _

_Nay, do not pause; for I did…_

_But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. _

_Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I…_

_But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. ~ _

_**King Richard III – Act I, Scene II**_

Cullen had seen it in her eyes and had felt it in her hand when she had placed her palm in his. Bella's pain was palpable and he was just about ready to hunt down her stupid ass mother, and smack her upside her insensitive fucking head.

He and Peaches had been having such a good time up until the fucking phone rang.

They had talked and talked, for at least a couple of hours, and it had been so cool just being with Bella in that way. Cullen didn't talk to any woman, other than Rose, about anything, but, to his surprise, he found that he _wanted_ to talk with Bella. He wanted Bella to talk to him and tell her about herself: her likes, dislikes, secrets, and dreams. He wanted to know what made her tick, other than her love of books and teaching, and apparently all things egg like.

Granted, she hadn't seemed to be in much of a talking mood, so Cullen had encouraged her by asking about her work. It seemed a safe enough topic at least. Cullen seemed to understand that her family and friends would not be a good place to start _any_ kind of discussion. Even if he was aching to found out just what the _fuck_ had happened while she had been away.

She had diverted the conversation back to him, naturally, but that was okay. He didn't mind telling her about himself; especially when it involved _Kala. _Bella listened attentively, like she truly gave a shit about what he had to say about things other than Literature, and that was something Cullen was unfamiliar with. He suddenly discovered that he could be quite verbose when given a shove.

When the answer phone message had finished, Bella's facial expression had damn near broken his heart. She looked mortified, angry and hurt, and Cullen immediately wanted to ease it. But the atmosphere had changed to something that neither of them was comfortable with. She didn't want to talk about it and began retreating back into the timid, scared girl that Cullen hated.

The fuckers seemed to know exactly how to extinguish the fire in her that he adored.

It was then that it had struck him: They needed to get the fuck out of dodge and try and forget. Forget the crap, and remember the good. Just for one day.

Cullen had no idea where he wanted to take her, but Bella seemed fine with that, which was a huge fucking relief. Cullen wasn't romantic by nature. Fuck, he had never done the dating thing, and he had no idea what a romantic or intimate gesture was. Not that this moment called for romance or intimacy of course. He just wanted to put the smile back onto his Peaches' face. He would have to make it up as he went along and pray that whatever _he_ thought was cool and perfect, would be cool and perfect for Bella too.

After she had grabbed a backpack and a jacket, they both made their way back down to _Kala_, and set off to wherever it was that she would take them. It was a grey October day in New York, and the wind was sharp on Cullen's face, but he didn't give a shit. All he cared about was the woman behind him, riding pillion, holding him so tightly that all he could do was smile.

Cullen drove for miles – flying over Brooklyn Bridge next to a shit hot Porsche that tried to overtake their ass. No fucking way. Cullen pulled back his right hand and blasted _Kala_ past the bastard. _Eat fucking dust, my friend._ He smiled when he felt Bella laugh behind him.

They drove to East New York, through Cypress Hill - cruising by the park - and along Broadway, all the way back to Manhattan. It was the first time Cullen had truly stretched _Kala's_ legs since he had been out of the lock up, and it felt fucking awesome; especially knowing that he was sharing it with his Peaches.

He reveled in the feeling of having Bella behind him, around him, holding onto him, particularly as the wind whipped at them as they crossed the water, back to the island. They couldn't talk, but Cullen knew that was probably what Bella wanted, although, he had laughed loudly when he had heard her squeal and giggle into his back as he revved _Kala_ hard down 47th; shooting them through traffic like a bullet.

The feeling of freedom and contentment was hard to ignore, and, for one split second Cullen considered losing himself in the sensation completely. He could do it so easily. _With her._

He could feel Bella's hands holding onto his chest through his jacket and – on two occasions – he placed his own hand over them, stroking and squeezing. He wanted to reassure her; make sure she was okay, and, each time he had, she had clutched his fingers back in response. Yeah, she _was_ okay.

It was almost six in the evening when Cullen pulled up on Fifth Avenue, next to Central Park. It had started to rain a little and was still fairly grey, but it didn't seem to matter. If it meant that there would be less people around, then Cullen was all for it. He sat for a moment with Bella still holding onto him, listening to_ Kala's_ engine tick as it began to cool beneath him.

"You ok back there?" He asked eventually as he unclipped his bike helmet.

"Yeah," she croaked back through a throat that hadn't been used for a few of hours. "I'm so relaxed. I almost fell asleep."

Something about the fact that Bella would be relaxed enough with him to actually fall asleep, made parts of Cullen's body flush and tingle. He rubbed her hands that were still grasping him and turned his head towards her.

"You want me to take you home?" he asked quietly, secretly hoping that she didn't.

To his relief, she shook her head against his back. "No. I'm not ready to go home yet."

"Good," he replied with a small smile. "Me neither."

Bella sat back from him and took off her helmet while Cullen helped her off the seat, with his hand in hers. He made to pull his hand away, once Bella was standing, but she held onto it firmly, slipping her fingers through his; Cullen's eyes widened in surprise, and absolute arousal. She liked holding him; liked touching him_. Jesus._

Bella glanced up at him, her lip wedged firmly between her teeth.

"Is this okay?" she asked with a small nod towards their hands. Cullen simply nodded back. Speechless. Hard. _Fuck_, it was more than okay.

At his approval, Bella clenched his hand and stood next to him; waiting patiently for him to pull his head out from his ass and fucking do something. He ran his free hand through his hair, down the side of his face and rubbed his rough chin with his knuckles.

"Okay…you, um…are you hungry?" he asked with a small shrug. _Smooth, Cullen. Genius, dude_.

Bella smiled back at him and licked her lips. _Fuck_. "It's always food with you, Cullen." She smirked.

"Yeah," he muttered as he looked down the street in annoyance at himself. _He was so fucking lame_. He felt Bella's hand cup his cheek and turn his face back to hers.

"Hey," she said softly. "I was only playing. I'd love to get some food." She gestured to _Kala_. "Riding your bike is hungry work."

Cullen laughed a long breath down his nose, and cleared his throat of the dirty words that were suddenly stuck in it; all of which involved suggesting Bella straddle his damn bike - possibly naked - while riding 'something' _really_ fucking hard.

"Food," he blurted as his cock began to press heavily against his thigh. Commando around Bella was not a comfortable experience. He'd have to seriously consider the boxer brief situation. _Dammit._ He hated wearing underwear.

"Um, what…what do you like?" he asked her with a one shouldered shrug. "Other than eggs of course," he grinned down at her.

She rolled her eyes and looked down the street, her hair blowing into her face as she did. "Um…well, it looks like we're all out of Oreo stores," she deadpanned as she looked around herself. Cullen's lips twitched. She was so fucking sexy when she was being a smart ass.

She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. "Do you know what?"

Cullen smirked further at the dazzling expression that appeared across her face. She looked so damn cute. "What?"

"I could _totally_ eat a hotdog."

Cullen cocked an eyebrow and chucked as he nodded. "How very New York of you," he teased, garnering a narrowed eye from Bella.

"Shut up," she laughed back. "I haven't had one for years."

He laughed with her and looked down at their hands together. "Me either," he replied softly as his thumb stroked hers. "It sounds fucking great," he added, glancing back up at her. "We need a vender."

And, with that, they took off down the street towards the first one that they could see. With her hand in his, Cullen wondered how normal they looked. Did they look like every other couple that they walked past? He certainly hoped so.

"Hey, man," the owner of _'Doug's Dogs'_ called as he leaned out from his window. He had a thick handlebar mustache, a thick Spanish accent, and an 'I love NY' t-shirt

"Hey," Cullen answered before looking back at Bella; waiting for her order.

"Hotdog, please," she said with a smile.

"Two," Cullen added as he gently released Bella's hand, and pulled his wallet out from his back pocket.

"Relish?" 

"Yeah."

Cullen's head swiveled towards Bella as they answered in perfect unison. She snickered and shrugged as Cullen shook his head and gave her a pursed lipped smile.

"Ketchup, mustard and onion, please," Bella said as she grabbed a handful of napkins.

Cullen snorted towards his chest as he pulled a ten from his wallet. He looked up at the owner, ignoring the stare he could feel emanating from Bella, and said pointedly, "Same."

Slapping the money on the counter and telling the dude to keep the change, Cullen handed Bella her hotdog with a wry expression and a questioning eyebrow. Bella fidgeted under his gaze and took her food quickly.

"Weirdo," she muttered as she turned away from him and began walking down the street, back towards the park.

Cullen barked out a laugh and followed her. "Me? And how the hell does that shit work?"

Bella giggled round the edge of her dog. "Because I say it does."

"Whatever, Peaches," Cullen responded as he picked up a mustard covered onion and shoved it in his mouth. "I think you're simply over looking the fact that, due to our shared love of coffee and hotdogs, someone is telling us that…"

He paused, not really knowing what he wanted to say, or whether he should say anything at all. The way that Bella was staring at him, suggested he should. "You know," he mumbled. "We're cool."

_Shit._ What the _hell_ was he thinking? Cullen closed his eyes and rubbed his eyebrows with the tips of his fingers, muttering to himself about how much of a fucking idiot he was. He took a deep breath and looked back at Bella to see her face was gentle and understanding.

Her mouth moved into a coy smile and her feet shuffled a little from side to side. "Yeah," she answered as she took a huge bite from her hot dog. "Maybe you're right."

Cullen felt his shoulders drop in relief and rolled his eyes at himself as Bella laughed sweetly and held her hand out for him to take.

He didn't even hesitate.

##

Walking leisurely through Central Park, hand in hand with Bella, was a strange experience. Cullen felt ten feet tall, but, at the same time, he felt vulnerable and small. The feelings that were surging through him made him feel exhilarated and terrified. It was an intense paradox of emotions that he was finding difficult to hold together.

Bella seemed to notice this. "Are you ok?" she asked as they made their way towards the spot that had become their own, even after just one visit a few Saturdays before.

"Yeah," he answered. "Why?"

She shrugged. "You just seem…I don't know…nervous?"

Cullen laughed a strange, strangled type sound and shook his head as he cursed himself inwardly. _Pussy._ "Nah, I'm good."

Bella looked at him askance, but didn't pursue his quietness, which Cullen was really fucking relieved about. There were more important things to talk about than his stupid ass teenage reactions to holding a girl's hand.

The rain had eased off as they took off their jackets and sat down on them by the boating pond. Finishing their food in silence and putting their napkins in Bella's bag, Cullen took a moment to glance over at the Alice in Wonderland statue, sighing heavily. It looked hauntingly beautiful at twilight.

"Here."

The air in Cullen's chest exploded out of him as Bella slammed a book hard into his chest. "What the fuck?" he asked with wide eyes.

"You haven't done any work for a week," she replied with a smirk and a hand on her hip. "Read."

Cullen looked down to his chest to see a copy of Hemingway's _'A Farewell to Arms'_ pushed against it. He laughed and glanced back at Bella. "Yes, Ma'am," he said lightly.

As he found the page that they had reached during their last session together, Bella got herself comfortable by leaning against his side with her head on his shoulder, and her arm resting on his thigh. Feeling bold, Cullen put his arm around her waist, and held her close, as he began to read.

As Hemingway's words rolled off of his tongue, Cullen could feel Bella snuggling closer, relaxing and melting into him. She was small and warm against the chill of the air around them, and he found himself putting his cheek gently against her hair while rubbing his palm along her arm. It felt…perfect.

"_Often a man wishes to be alone and a girl wishes to be alone too and if they love each other they are jealous of that in each other, but I can truly say we never felt that." _Cullen paused as Hemingway's description began to resonate deep within him_. "We could feel alone when we were together, alone against the others. It has only happened to me like that once."_

"I love hearing you read," Bella whispered. "Your voice is…"

Cullen paused in his reading, and lay the book down on the damp grass. "What?"

Bella shrugged, "Familiar to me, like I know it better than my own."

Cullen's heart stuttered. _Of course_ she knew his voice. It was all he had thought to use to keep her calm the night her father had died.

"And that's a good thing?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah," she replied, with a smile. "It's a good thing."

Cullen exhaled and allowed his arms to encircle Bella's waist. Touching her, felt so natural since she had shared his bed. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and breathed her scent into his lungs. She smelled so _fucking_ good.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked quietly as she burrowed closer against his chest.

"It's kind of our place," he replied. "Wouldn't you agree?"

She smiled and nodded.

"Will you tell me about the statue?" she asked as she turned her head towards it.

Cullen shifted uncomfortably and exhaled a grumbled, uncertain noise. "I, um…I don't…"

"It's okay if you don't want to," Bella interrupted, sensing his anxiety. "I was just curious."

Cullen looked at the statue again and then turned back to Bella. He wanted to share with her. The only way that they could possibly move forward with whatever the hell was happening between them would be if they knew things about each other. He had promised himself that he would tell her everything. Hell, his family would be a good place to start.

"My mom and dad," he cleared his throat. "They would meet here to…pass me off to one another." He smiled tightly and fingered the grass at his side, before pulling a huge clump of it out of the ground.

"Tell me about your…parents?" Bella asked cautiously.

Cullen kept his eyes on hers for an age - feeling his anxiety creep up his spine - but all he saw in her wide, chocolate irises was encouragement, affection, and genuine interest. There was no judgment or condescension. She cared, and she really wanted to know.

"My dad met my mom when they were eighteen," he said through a long exhalation. Bella didn't respond in any way other than to stay silent. Cullen loved that she knew that's exactly what he needed. "They were young, stupid and from completely different sides of the track."

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the heat that was radiating from Bella's back.

"My mom was from a _very_ wealthy family. Her father – my grandfather, Edward Masen – owned one of the first communication companies of its kind in the country. My father, on the other hand, didn't have two cents to rub together and made what money he _did_ have from playing music at clubs, and painting."

Cullen rolled his eyes at the apparent romance of it all. Total bullshit, he thought to himself.

"That's how he met my mother. She heard him playing piano one night and approached him." He clicked his fingers. "That was that."

Bella nodded silently and played absentmindedly with the edge of his t-shirt.

"My mother's family hated my father on sight. To them, he was never good enough for their first born, he was trouble, a bum, worthless, but, my mother rebelled, and they stayed together. They got a cheap, crappy apartment together, after my grandfather cut off my mother's money, and, within a year, she was pregnant with me."

Cullen closed his eyes and clasped the bridge of his nose. He felt Bella shift next to him and then her hand was on his chest - warm and soothing - just above his heart. He wondered if she could feel it thumping.

"She hid the pregnancy for a long time." Cullen laughed without humor. He dropped his hand and looked straight at Bella. "She hid _me_."

She simply looked back at him, her gorgeous stare saying so much. There was sympathy there, warmth and comfort. _Christ_, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to fucking lose himself in her and never come back. _Patience._ He swallowed down his need and looked back down towards the ground. Bella's hand found his chin and pulled his face back up.

"Don't _ever_ look down like that while you're with me," she said sternly. "That's not the Cullen I know. Don't let the fuckers win."

Cullen's throat went instantly dry as Bella smacked the words he had used with her not six hours earlier, right the fuck back at him with fervor and passion. She took his breath away with the simplest of words and gestures. He was speechless and his whole body fizzled: fast and unstable. What the _fuck_ was happening to him?

Feeling exhausted with the tumult of emotional shit that was washing over him, Cullen leaned his forehead heavily against hers, and focused on breathing. Bella leaned right back, strong and steady.

"My mother went back to her family," he continued. "My father had no money and she ran right back to the fuckers like a coward. My grandfather told her to give me up, and she fucking _considered_ it. It was only because my father turned up at the family house, shouting and demanding his rights that they relented. My grandfather didn't want…a _scene_….gossip for the family."

"Cullen," Bella whispered. He wasn't sure whether she wanted him to stop, but he found that he couldn't.

"Long story short, my grandmother – my mother's mom – was disgusted with her daughter's behavior. She fought for me and told her that she had to face her responsibilities. A trust fund was drawn up for me, and full parental rights were given to my father." He scoffed and shook his head as he looked towards the statue. In a small voice that was utterly alien to him, he added, "The bitch didn't even fight it. For _me_."

"Unbeknown to my grandfather," he added with a self-satisfied smile. "My grandmother put her share of the company in my name on the day that I was born. She had lawyers draw up a secret, binding contract that they've never been able to dissolve. They only discovered it the day that she died. That was nineteen years ago and even then her shares were worth a little under…£50 million dollars."

He tensed as he waited for a reaction: a gasp, a '_holy fuck'_, something, but Bella remained silent. He knew that Bella was from an affluent family herself, but hell, did she not care that, on paper he was worth a shit ton more than that now?

Only Jake and Rose knew of his potential wealth, and even _they_ had had a few choice words to say about it. Not that he had access to the bulk of it. Fucking Whitlock's had managed to put a stop to that when Cullen was first incarcerated. Apparently, at the age of nearly twenty-seven, he was _still_ gossip that was frowned upon by his family.

He pulled his head back and stared at Bella, still waiting for a response. She merely stared back and smiled. Cullen laughed in utter puzzlement and relief, and wrapped his arms around her. Nonchalance had never been so comforting. _Or_ sexy.

"Do you ever see your mother?" she asked quietly.

Cullen shook his head. "She died of cancer when I was nine."

"Oh, God, Cullen, I'm so-…"

"Don't fucking apologize for her. Karma's a bitch." He spat the last words out like they tasted of shit on his tongue.

Bella frowned. "You don't mean that."

"Don't I?" He took a deep breath and exhaled it towards the floor. "All she did was, deny me. She didn't want me. The only reason she took me once every two weeks, was because my grandmother had ordered her to in her will_. Ordered_ her to. She just liked pissing her father off. She went through a rebellious phase and got knocked up. End of."

He'd been refused and labeled as a disappointment by his so called family his whole life. _Whatever._ He was better off without them.

"What about your father?"

Cullen closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. His limit had definitely been reached, and he could feel his patience and irritation rising. He couldn't lose his shit with his Peaches today. "Bella, can we…can we talk about something else?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Sure," she answered without hesitation, once again reading him without any difficulty. "What do you wanna talk about?"

"I dunno," he answered quickly, evading her gaze. He leaned his head sharply to the side so that his ear touched his shoulder, and groaned when it gave a loud click. "I need to move."

He lifted Bella slightly, moving her to the side, and stood up, shaking his arms out. He had a lot of unused energy and he needed to release it. He pulled out his packet of smokes and lit one, taking a huge pull that felt like paradise. He turned back to Bella to see her sitting, watching him, gripping her knees to her chest, while leaning her chin on them. He needed to divert the attention somehow. He had never been comfortable under a microscope and, even though he knew that Bella wasn't doing it to be nosey, telling her personal stuff was still difficult for him. _Kala_ and his love of fast metal was one thing. His family was something else entirely.

_Speaking of which..._

"So, are you gonna tell me what happened this past week while you were away?" he asked her directly as he blew smoke down his nose.

Tit for tat and all that.

She looked uneasy; keeping her eyes on the floor, but she didn't say no. "It's complicated."

"I'm sure I can keep up," he countered as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Bella twisted her hands together awkwardly, and pursed her lips. Cullen waited, vaguely aware that it had started raining again: small drops that felt warm against his skin, even though it was October. They'd have to move if it got any heavier, he thought begrudgingly.

"My mother is a…difficult woman," Bella said in an almost whisper. "She still sees me as a nine year old kid instead of a twenty-five year old woman."

Cullen leaned back against a tree, smoking silently, waiting for her to continue.

"She…doesn't agree with my life choices. She thinks I can't make my own decisions, and the ones that I _do_ make are _never_ the right ones."

Cullen smiled sardonically. He certainly knew what that shit felt like. Being questioned and looked down upon because of the choices he had made, had been a regular occurrence in his life for too long.

"I wanted to be a teacher for as long as I can remember," she said with a wide smile. "I_ love_ my job. I've traveled a lot with it, and met some amazing people, but I never felt like I was making a _real_ difference." She ran a hand through her hair. "Working at the prison was exactly what made it worth while."

Cullen nodded, understanding. He could only imagine – after what had happened sixteen years ago – just how Bella's mother would have reacted to the location of her job. He wondered fleetingly how she'd react to her daughter's choice in men.

"You're an amazing teacher, Bella," he murmured.

"Thank you." She dipped her head and Cullen knew that she was blushing. He wished it was still light enough for him to see its red heat.

"Well, it's what my dad wanted for me," she added quietly. "And I've managed to meet even _more_ amazing people." She looked pointedly at him and smiled. He smiled back but, as he did, hers vanished instantly.

"Bella?" 

She toed the grass, nervously. "I was with my family and friends this week, and…you know Alice don't you?"

Cullen frowned before he realized who Alice was. "I don't know _her_ but I know her name. Whitlock," he clenched his fists. "My cousins are the Whitlock's." _Motherfuckers._

"I know," she muttered, "Jasper and…Peter?"

"Yeah," he answered, not liking the tone she was using. It made him feel uneasy. "How do _you_ know them?"

"I went to school with Alice. She's engaged to Jasper," she replied quickly. "And I know Peter. We um…we…_met_ a few times." Her eyes moved to his, and Cullen instantly felt sick.

He licked his lips and frowned. "Huh," was all he could think to say. He sucked on his smoke before firing it from his finger and thumb, down the path.

Something in the way she said the word '_met_' sat with Cullen like a fucking rhinoceros on his chest, and the fucking heart burn appeared, smoldering deep behind his ribs. Cullen had a meeting with the prick on Monday, which he was dreading, but knowing that Peter had 'met' _his _Peaches was not good news for his cousin_. At. All._

Cullen ran his hands through his hair as his brain went into caveman overdrive. How well did Peter actually _know_ Bella? Did he know her in the Biblical sense? _Holy shit._ His stomach and vision turned, and he found himself gripping and clutching at the tree behind him as images of them together whipped through his mind.

"Cullen, I-…"

"It's alright," he snapped as he rubbed his palms down his face. "Don't. I…"

He didn't want to hear whatever it was she was going to say. The truth was he had no right to get pissy and jealous? Jealous? Was_ that_ what he was feeling? He took a breath. Yes. Yes, it was. _Fuck_. Just _thinking_ about another man's hands on Bella – let alone his fucking _cousins_ – made him want to commit fucking murder. He'd rip his motherfucking hands from the sockets, and then use that shit to beat his ass to death.

Cullen clenched his jaw, feeling his lips lift into a snarl of possessiveness. _Shit._ It wasn't the time for this. He needed to reel his self the fuck in and breathe. He'd wanted and promised Bella that they would forget the bullshit and remember the good.

"Another time," he added quietly towards her. "Please?" he begged with a desperate frown. "Can you just…?"

He was far too strung up after the conversation about his mother to deal with any more of his family's shitty business. Bella and_ Peter_. That shit could just back. The. Fuck. Up. Besides, maybe it was entirely innocent? Last time he'd heard, Peter was married anyway. _Prick._

Cullen took a deep breath and tried to unclench his hands.

"Okay," Bella said with a determined nod.

They both remained quiet as the rain continued to fall in small sporadic bursts that were still not heavy enough to keep the ground wet. Cullen's eyes couldn't leave Bella. She looked so fucking stunning. They had shared so much together over the past few hours, but Cullen knew there was still so much that needed to be aired. He just didn't have a fucking clue how to broach any of it_. I saved you. I saved you._

They needed to reconnect somehow, find what they had left in her kitchen as they cooked the fucking omelets. He smiled as he remembered how much he had flustered her.

Resolute, Cullen pushed off from the tree, and walked towards her. She looked up as he held his hand out for her.

_Be with me. Find us again. Just you and me._

"What?" she asked as she cocked her head to the right.

"Come here," he said with a grin.

She laughed lightly and placed her hand in his, seemingly not even thinking about it. The sensation of it was crazy. It tingled and buzzed like electricity, and shot up Cullen's arm like a lightening bolt. He pulled her to her feet and led her until they were standing next to the statue. He pulled her close and held her left hand up in his right, with his left hand on her waist.

Slowly, he began moving from side to side, watching her face as confusion and alarm crept over it.

"What are you doing?" she asked incredulously as she looked down at their feet then back up to his face. She looked terrified.

Cullen didn't answer; instead, he lifted his arm and twirled Bella slowly and gently underneath it. "We're dancing," he answered with an eye roll, "Duh."

"I…I can't dance," she almost shouted as he pulled her back to his chest.

"Bullshit," Cullen replied with a loud laugh. "Look at you."

He placed his hand tighter around her waist and leaned her so far back that she squealed and clung onto his shoulders as though her life depended on it. They both laughed as he brought her back up, and Cullen did an internal happy dance when she leaned her cheek against his chest.

"Besides," he growled into her temple. "If you didn't, I'd make you." He smiled when she laughed again and muttered a soft, 'whatever.'

Dropping his nose into her hair; Cullen began to hum. He didn't know why, but the song that was flittering through his mind, seemed so fitting for how he was feeling at that moment.

"Is that…" Bella looked up at him with knowing eyes and a sly grin. "Is that Sinatra you're humming?"

Cullen felt his cheeks burn. _Fuck._ "Um…yeah, I think…I don't know. Why?"

She giggled adorably. "I wouldn't have pegged you as a Frank fan." She eyed his Zeppelin t-shirt and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Shut up," he chided and pushed her face into his chest. He smiled as she laughed into him. He released the back of her head with a playful click of his tongue, and put his hands around her, placing them gingerly at the small of her back. He was pretty sure it was his hands new favorite spot.

He and Bella moved, slowly, gracefully, from one foot to the other in a complete circle; holding one another in the gentle rain.

"My dad loved Sinatra," Bella whispered above Cullen's humming. "He'd play his greatest hits at full blast all the time. He drove me and my mom freaking crazy."

Cullen smiled. "He had good taste."

"Yeah," Bella mused. "He played it in the car on the way…the night that…"

Cullen's arms tightened around her instinctively.

She cleared her throat. "It's weird the things you remember, huh?"

"Yeah," he answered as his heart skipped a beat.

His stomach tensed and his lungs all of a sudden felt two sizes too small. Was this the moment he asked her? Was this the moment that he told her who he was? Was this the moment he put everything that they had built together on the fucking cliff edge, and waited for the inevitable tumble?

He swallowed hard and took a huge breath. If he truly wanted her to be his, Cullen knew that the answer was yes. Always yes. _Slow and easy._

Closing his eyes, he let the words come.

"What um…what do you remember of the night that he, ya know, when he passed away?"

Bella lifted her head slowly and looked at him, her expression giving nothing away.

"Sorry," Cullen apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to-…"

"No," she interrupted. "It's okay."

She paused for a moment, looking up at the evening sky, before she placed her cheek back against him. "I remember everything."

Cullen's stomach hit his shoes. _Holy shit._ Did she really? "You do?"

"Yeah, everything," she murmured. "I remember the plane ride. The hotel, the shelter, the walk to the sandwich shop, to the exact moment they hit him with the baseball bat."

"Fuck, Bella, I'm so sorry."

And he was. He hated that she had been hurt. He hated that he hadn't been strong enough to stop the fuckers from killing her father. And he hated that he knew, deep down in his soul, that Bella would hate him for it too.

"Don't be," she said softly. "No-one could have saved him. Not even me; even though I would have tried like hell."

_Christ._ "You were_ nine_, Bella," he said firmly but affectionately. He knew that she would have tried, if she had been able. She would have fought with all of her might to stop the pricks from hurting Senator Swan.

It was that strength and determination in her that he loved so very much. _Wait, what?_

"I ran," she whispered, interrupting Cullen's internal epiphany. "I ran away when he needed me."

Cullen's face crumpled and he buried his face further into her hair. _The smell. _Fuck, it hadn't changed at all.

"Don't do that to yourself, Bella." _Shit_. "He told you to," he whimpered. "He _told_ you…to run, Bella."

Time seemed to stand still as Bella froze in his arms. _Oh fuck. Oh fuck._ Cullen shut his eyes and clasped his hands at her back, suddenly terrified that she would bolt. He couldn't let her run again. He couldn't lose her.

"What did you say?" she asked slowly and clearly into his chest.

Cullen swallowed. _This is it._ "He told you to run."

She moved her head and looked up at him. Her eyes told him that the pieces were falling together - slowly, but surely - and all he could do was plead with his own for her to wait, listen, and try to like hell understand.

"Cullen," she said, her voice shaking. "How do…how do _you_ know that?"

He stared at her, praying that he wouldn't have to say the words out loud, but knowing, with every inch of him self, that he had to. He had to tell her.

"You…you told me last night."

She didn't look convinced and she was right not too.

She shook her head. "No…there's….your voice. It's different."

He could see in her face that she knew there was more.

So much more, "What _do_ you remember, Bella?"

She cocked her chin to the left as the cogs turned, watching Cullen's face - which was no doubt covered in absolute dread - before her eyes flashed with pain and shock at the same time that she gasped loudly, and shoved away from him; breaking his hold of her while stumbling backwards.

_No, Bella, don't, baby._ Cullen's heart crumbled in his chest. _Fuck._

"What are you…what are you telling me?" Bella asked in an almost whisper. Her jaw was set and her hands were clenching and unclenching relentlessly at her thighs.

Cullen shook his head. _Not yet._ "I…I want to know what you remember," he said before swallowing. His arms felt so useless with her not within them.

"Why?" she pushed with fire in her voice. "Why do _you_ want to know?" Her eyes were wide and frantic. "Why, Cullen?"

He took a step towards her and she instinctively took one back. Cullen's teeth clenched.

"Because…I…because…Bella."

"Fuck's sake," she cried, "WHY?"

Her yell echoed loudly around them as the rain clouds suddenly broke, and the heavens opened above them. The rain was ridiculously heavy and slammed into their skin. It didn't matter, however. Cullen was practically numb at that point.

He stared at her and lifted his arms minutely before letting them fall, defeated at his sides. He dropped his chin, gathered himself and the fear that was pounding in his head, and looked back at her, "Because…I was there, Bella."

The look on her face ripped Cullen's chest open, and made his legs feel unsteady. Christ, she looked heartbroken, terrified and sick.

_Shit, what have I done?_

She suddenly started shaking and breathing loudly while mumbling words he couldn't decipher. Her hands were at once at her temples, and she clamped her eyes shut while her mouth continued to move in incoherent ramblings.

"No. No. No," she repeated as the rain drenched her. "It wasn't…I can't."

Cullen pulled his soaked beanie off of his head, letting the rain glue his hair to his forehead. "It was me," he whispered. "It was _me_, Bella."

Bella was instantly mute, staring at him as though he were a stranger. She opened her mouth, but he didn't let her speak.

"I was in the area, near your father's shelter. I had been with Jake, but we'd had a fight, and I…I'd left him at a friend's. I was having a smoke and heard a scream…so I went to see what was going on and…I saw them. I saw you. I saw them hit him with the bat." 

"Stop," Bella rasped.

"I saw the guy hit you-…" 

"Stop, Cullen."

"Your father told you to run and you didn't, Bella. Why didn't you fucking run?"

"Fucking stop!"

"NO!"

He took three strides towards her and yanked her into his arms. And she began to fight him. Her skin was slick from the rain and it was hard to get a grip on her. She punched, and hit his chest and arms as she screamed at him to let her go. But he didn't. He couldn't.

"I grabbed you," he cried above her protests. "I grabbed you and ran with you. I've never been so scared, Bella. I had to drag you; you fought me so fucking hard. You fought me like you're doing now. But I couldn't let you go. I couldn't. The fuckers would have killed you, just like they killed him."

Bella sobbed in his arms, buckling at the knees.

"We landed on the floor and…your hair, Bella. Goddamn it. Peach scented hair. My _Peaches."_

Her head snapped up and she screamed in his face, "GET OFF ME!"

At the fury in her voice Cullen released her and stepped back, only to receive a white hot slap, right across his wet face.

All that could be heard for a few seconds was the rain pounding the trees and the floor, and the sound of cars passing down Fifth Avenue. Bella gasped and sobbed as Cullen stared at the grass, not moving his face back towards her. He couldn't look at her and see that look in her eyes. The look that told him that she hated him.

He was paralyzed, desolate, but he couldn't stop telling her. He _had_ to tell her.

"I held you," he muttered, "For two fucking hours, in a freezing cold doorway, talking to you."

"You…" Bella grabbed at her hair. "You…stopped me from…" She could barely speak through the gasps of air she was taking. The swirls of her warm breath twisted and dissolved into the cold air around them. "I could have…I could have…my fucking father!"

Cullen looked back at her, his hurt, angry tears merging silently with the rain that ran down his face. "He told you to run, Bella. I couldn't watch them kill you too."

"You had no right!"

"No right?" he argued back, his voice rising to match hers. "Your father wanted you safe, Bella. I…I _saved_ you!"

"No, you didn't, Cullen!" she screamed back, "No you didn't because I fucking died that night too!"

_Well, fuck._

Cullen stared at her, completely without words. She may as well have punched him in the stomach. How could she _think_ that? How could she _say_ that to him?

A dangerous calm appeared in her eyes as she looked about herself. "I…I need…I…" she stormed past him towards her jacket and bag, her feet splashing in the huge puddles that had formed around them.

"Bella," Cullen pleaded. "Don't…please…" He grabbed for her arm but she pulled it from his grasp and pushed him away.

"Don't!" she cried with a finger in his face. "You fucking liar! You're just like the rest of them! Just don't!"

He blinked at her. Stunned. "I never lied!" he yelled, fury rising through his body. "What the _fuck_ are you talking about?"

"You never _told_ me!" She pushed his chest again. "How long have you known and you never fucking told me? That makes you a dirty. Fucking. Liar!"

Cullen felt his shoulders slump in devastation.

Bella's palms found the sides of her forehead as she began to stutter. "I…I can't be…be…no…anywhere near you, right now. I have to…fuck."

She turned from him and set off at a dead run.

Instinctively, Cullen exploded after her, calling for her to stop, yelling at her to fucking think about what she was doing in the dark, in the middle of Central Park, but she ignored him, screaming at him to leave her alone and ran faster. He could have caught her. He could have caught her easily. He could have wrestled her to the floor just as he had done sixteen years before, but what would have been the point?

She hated him and didn't want to be near him. She hated him and had called him a liar.

Was he? Was he a liar?

Cullen stopped dead at that thought, and watched as Bella ran from him. Breathless, his whole body felt as though he had been skinned alive. The pain of seeing her run away was like nothing else he had experienced, and it took his breath away. _My heart._ He gripped his chest in an effort to stop the searing hurt that twisted there, bent his head back, and yelled loudly into the sky; releasing the frustration and rage that was surging under his skin. He kicked the base of a nearby tree - several times - bellowing out words and sounds that he had never heard from himself before while praying to all hell that the hurt would stop.

Exhausted, Cullen's hands dropped to his knees while his eyes followed the path that Bella had taken.

When he could no longer see her and his voice was hoarse, and he was wet enough that the rain was dripping down his back; he staggered back to his jacket and bike helmets and set off back to _Kala._

=PoF=

Cullen wasn't sure how long he had walked with or ridden his bike around the city. The only things he was aware of, was that he was soaked to the bone, and there was a bottle of Jack in his hand that was a quarter empty. That shit was definitely _not_ three quarters full. _No siree._

He rolled _Kala_ back into the garage and parked her up; kicking her stand down to take the weight. Cullen flopped against her, ghosting his hand across the leather seat where Bella had been seated behind him; around him, with him. His hand shook inexplicably so he quickly took a large gulp of Jack; hissing at the burn. The only comfort that Cullen took from it was that he was still capable of feeling something.

He snorted in derision and took another hit.

_Dirty fucking liar. Dirty fucking liar._

With feet that felt like fucking lead, and with a body that felt disturbingly hollow, Cullen made his way back up the stairs, climbing the six floors to his apartment. He didn't care about how long it took him or that it would have been easier to take the elevator. All he cared about was getting into bed with his Jack, and praying that he didn't wake up for days.

_Dirty fucking liar._

He shoved the stair door open with his shoulder; stumbling a little, and stopped dead.

_Holy shit._

Sitting in a tight ball at his apartment door - soaking wet and shivering - was Bella.

Cullen's breath left his lungs in a loud whoosh as he slumped against the wall. A relief that almost crippled him washed down his back like warm water as Bella looked up, and her eyes met his. Her face was covered in mascara and her hair was dripping all over, but she had never looked more fucking beautiful.

Reflexively, Cullen's hand touched the cheek that she had slapped. It was only then, seeing her waiting for him that it really began to hurt.

They both stayed for an eternity, staring at each other; silent words passing between them: words that couldn't be expressed or uttered in a hallway as small as the one they were standing in.

Eventually, and with a strength that he didn't know he possessed, Cullen pushed from the wall and began approaching her - slow and cautious - as though she was a wild animal. He took small steps that seemed to reverberate and echo around them.

He was merely inches from her when she struggled to her feet, and leaned wet and heavy against his door. She looked as exhausted as he felt.

With his eyes still on hers, and with no words spoken, Cullen pulled his keys from his pocket, and leaned around her to unlock the door. He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard her take a deep breath of him as he did. He didn't care though, he wanted her to. He wanted any part of her that she was still willing to give him.

If he _was_ a dirty fucking liar, then he would be _her_ dirty fucking liar.

Bella stepped hesitantly into the apartment and Cullen followed, closing the door gently behind him. He dropped the bottle of Jack onto the counter next to the coffee mugs that were still there from that morning, and turned back to her. He looked her over from head to toe. She was drenched and shivering.

_Fuck_, she was freezing and he was doing nothing about it.

"Shit," he muttered. "You need a towel."

He made to move passed her towards the bathroom, but she stopped him in his tracks with her palms firmly on his waist, and her forehead pressed hard against his chest. Cullen's breath released in a shudder at the contact, but he couldn't move. He didn't know what he was meant to do. He didn't know what she wanted him to do or what she wanted from him. Last time he'd tried to touch her, she'd screamed and run away. He couldn't cope with that shit again.

Not that it mattered about what Bella wanted, however. He would have given her fucking anything.

They stood, motionless, simply breathing each other in. He watched as her shoulders shook with the sobs that were tumbling from her. He wanted to rub her back or touch her hair…but, dammit, he couldn't move.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into the silent room. Her hands clutched his sides tightly; the water in his t-shirt running down her knuckles. "I'm so….so fucking sorry."

Cullen's throat narrowed at her words, and he found himself clenching his teeth in an effort to keep his emotions in fucking check.

Bella's hands slid gradually up to his neck, and Cullen's eyes rolled into his head as her nose, rubbed along his jaw. His breaths were monstrously loud as they careened down his nose when he felt the warmth from her palms soak into him. _Bella._

"I'm sorry." Her small fingers grasped at the back of his neck, playing with his sopping wet hair, and her breath burned hot across his throat. "I'm, oh God, Cullen, I'm so sorry."

Cullen whimpered as she continued to whisper her apologies into his skin. With each one that left her, another piece of the punk ass wall that Cullen had built around himself, came tumbling down at her feet. He had never felt so fucking defenseless.

Bella lifted her head and looked at him, trailing her thumb under his left eye.

"I…I don't need a towel," she murmured. "I need…I need you." Her body shook against him. "I need you so much, and I'm so fucking sorry, Cullen."

Cullen's head collapsed heavily against hers, and a soft sob crept from his mouth.

"Oh, Bella," he moaned as his arms wound gradually around her. "You have me, baby." He gripped the bottom of her shirt in his hands. "You _always_ have."

She bit her lip as her face crumpled, and she nodded slowly. Her hand smoothed carefully over the cheek that she had struck, "Like you have me."

Cullen's heart swelled so much at her words that he gasped at the sensation. _You have me._

Bella reached up on her toes, and placed her hot lips under his eye, murmuring again about how sorry she was. How she would beg for his forgiveness. How much he meant to her.

Her lips were fucking perfect as she kissed slowly and tenderly across his face, across his eye, his brow, and down his other cheek to the corner of his mouth.

Cullen froze as her tongue brushed across his bottom lip. His cock punched against his button fly and his hands automatically gripped her waist so that he remained upright on his wobbling knees. He needed her so much._ Jesus_, would she ever know _how_ much? How insane he was for her? How much he…how much he…

_Oh God._

He leaned down desperate for her touch, and their lips met in the softest, slowest, most sensual kiss that Cullen had ever experienced. The taste of the rain water mixed with her unique taste was fucking luscious.

Cullen opened his mouth to her, his breath leaving him in gasps and shaking groans when her tongue met his again. He closed his lips around hers, and sucked on it tenderly while his hands moved from their place on Bella's waist, up and under her shirt.

His palms slid easily against her wet skin – fuck, it felt so damn erotic - and the kiss instantly deepened with a loud groan from both of them. Cullen swallowed every breath that she gave him and pulled her closer, wanting her to feel how hard he was and how much he wanted to be inside of her. _Needed_ to be inside of her; consumed by her.

He felt her hands move to the bottom of his shirt where she tugged gently in question. He moved back quickly so that she could pull it over his head. She did, quickly, and threw it down onto the floor with a loud wet slap. Her mouth was immediately at his chest, licking and kissing, nibbling and driving him fucking crazy. _Fuck_. Perfect. Her lips were fucking perfect.

"_Christ_, Bella."

Cullen's hands delved into her hair and he panted her name again as her tongue traveled up the middle of his stomach, up his chest, his neck, and back to his throat.

"I'm sorry," Bella croaked into his skin.

Cullen was suddenly frantic for more of her mouth, her taste, and crushed his lips hard against hers, forcing his tongue inside. She moaned loudly and pulled his hair, holding him closer. _Yes._ He pulled at her shirt and ripped it over her head, mourning the few seconds that her lips weren't pressing against his as he did.

Her pale blue bra was next to go. _More_.

Bella tucked her hands behind her back as Cullen's teeth slid across her collarbone, and unhooked it, pulling it from her body, and throwing onto the floor with their shirts.

"Fuck," Cullen groaned as he looked down at her perfect tits and the nipples that he had gotten to know so well the night before. They were erect and stunning, and reacted instantly as Cullen's thumbs caressed them.

"Oh God," Bella murmured as he did it again. Her head lolled back: elegant and beautiful.

"You like that?" Cullen asked softly as he kissed her again. She nodded and gripped his shoulders. Her nails dug into him and he grunted in pleasure. "Christ, I want you, Bella." His hands grabbed both of her breasts, roughly; kneading the soft skin while her nipples puckered in his palms.

"Yes," she answered in a breathless gasp. "Please. I need you so much. _Cullen_. Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Cullen halted her words with his mouth. "Stop," he said. "It's okay. You're here now." He pushed her hair from her face as it dripped down her nose, "Just you and me."

He cupped her face, rubbing at the wet skin under her eyes and kissed her softly. Her hands held onto his forearms securely as she let him lead it. Cullen tried to rein his desire in, fuck, he tried so damn hard, but all too quickly, the fire between them began to strengthen, their passion for each igniting into flames, and their tongues were soon tangled from one mouth to the other.

Flicking. Licking. Tasting.

With an animalistic growl that sounded like her name, Cullen bent down, gripping her thighs, and picked Bella up; smiling against her mouth as her legs and arms wrapped firmly around him.

_So familiar. So fucking right._

He gripped Bella's ass and groaned when her chest slid against his as he moved; the rain water acting as a natural lubricant.

Without any stumbling this time, Cullen carried her through his apartment to his bed, and kneeled gently, lying her down and spreading his weight protectively across her. Their mouths seemed incapable of disconnecting. He let his hands roam across her skin, up her sides, across her breasts, to her neck and stomach as they panted and moaned between crumpled lips.

"Bella…_fuck_, Bella."

Unable to resist any longer, Cullen's mouth eventually followed the path of his hands: hungry and wanting more of her body. He licked at the rain water that had collected on her sternum and returned to sucking her nipples. _Sweet ripe berries._ He growled as Bella arched, and he jerked his hips firmly against hers as she grabbed at his ass.

He bit the underneath of her right breast and she yelped before moaning in pleasure.

"More," she whimpered into his hair. "Please, Cullen. More."

"Anything," he moaned as his hand dropped quickly, frantically, to the button on her jeans and pushed it through.

He pulled at her zip and hooked his fingers into the denim waist band. He paused momentarily suddenly nervous, and wanting to make sure that Bella was okay; that this was what she truly wanted. He glanced up at her from under her lashes.

_Tell me you want this. _He pleaded silently. _Tell me you want this as much as I do._

Bella gazed at him, and caressed his cheek once again. She nodded. "I want you so much. Don't stop. I…I need you."

He could see it in her eyes and he lost himself in the weightless feeling that that realization brought him. "I know," he replied gruffly.

She lifted her hips and he pulled her jeans down. He let his knuckles graze softly along her thighs and calves as he did, and laughed quickly when he got to her ankles and remembered that she still had her boots on.

"Sorry," she giggled sexily as he began to untie them.

"No problem," he replied, kissing her ankle as he removed one boot and sock, and then the other.

Finally free of any obstacles, after Bella's boots had been thrown dismissively across his room, Cullen yanked her jeans all the way off and kneeled on the edge of the bed as he took her in. My God she was breath taking. Feminine. Sexy. Gorgeous. Her skin was pale and unblemished, and looked as soft as he knew it felt under his finger tips. She was wearing small blue cotton panties that hugged her curvaceous hips like a second skin, and, he could just make out, around the edges of the elastic, that she was bare. _Praise fucking Jesus._

His cock twitched and wept; moisture seeping from its tip, causing Cullen to moan low in his throat. Fuck's sake he hadn't even touched her there yet and he was about ready to explode.

"Cullen," Bella whispered in concern. She lifted up onto her forearms and caught his eye with a dip of her chin. "If you don't want to do this…I understand after…what I said, and did…I…"

Cullen swallowed her words with a hungry mouth and a tongue that wanted to taste every fucking inch of her and then some.

"I want," he groaned into her mouth. "I _really_ fucking want." His hand slid down her small waist, to her hip, and played with the side of her panties: hesitating. "Can I…can I touch you, Bella?" 

"Fuck, yes," she purred as she bit his bottom lip. "I want nothing more than your fingers on me."

"Christ," he responded as he tucked his hand under the cotton of her panties and ran his knuckles down the lips of her naked pussy. "Oh," he gasped as his hand traveled up and down. "Wet."

"Mmhm," Bella hummed as she collapsed back onto the bed, pulling Cullen down with her, "For you."

As though her words were kerosene on a fucking fire, Cullen's fingertips pushed frantically up between her lips in search of her clit. He hit it with his thumb first, and grunted. _Fuck, so swollen._ They both moaned into each others mouths at the contact, and Cullen found himself biting his own lip as Bella began grinding against his hand. She looked so fucking _hot_.

"Ohhhh," she whimpered as he touched her.

Cullen's index finger moved down from her clit, and slipped easily against the moisture that lay there. Closing his eyes at the feeling, he nibbled Bella's shoulder and breathed heavily against her skin. The tip of his finger circled her entrance teasingly, garnering a sigh from Bella and a look that told him that she needed this as much as he did. Cullen was entranced by her fluid movements and the husky sounds that rumbled from her throat and, without a moment's hesitation; he slipped that shit right inside of her.

Warm. Wet. Transcendent. _Oh God Peaches._

"Shit!" she cried out as he began moving his finger slowly in and out of her, right up the fucking knuckle, "_UH!_ Yes!"

"Yes?" he asked as he dropped his head and circled her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Bella nodded and grunted in reply, gripping his shoulders. "Does my finger feel good in your pussy, Bella?"

Her eyes widened at his words. "Uh huh," she moaned while winding her hips around in a sharp, desperate figure of eight. "More."

With a smug ass smirk, Cullen gently pushed another finger into her and immediately upped the speed at which they were fucking her. Bella cried out and her hands pulled his hair, hard. Cullen closed his eyes and listened to the wet noises that filled the room as he pumped his hand against her and feasted greedily on her luscious tits. It was the sexiest symphony he had ever heard.

His thumb found her clit once more, and another finger started to creep up inside of her. Cullen was all too aware of just how small Bella was, and the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her, but, fuck, he wanted so much of himself inside of her all at once that he couldn't stop. He kept his eyes on her face as he pushed. Gently. Carefully. _Holy fuck._

That third finger felt really fucking tight.

Bella's back arched into a perfect 'C' shape, and a long guttural groan erupted from her chest as Cullen began to rub her clit and pump his curled fingers as she enveloped him. The walls of her pussy were so smooth and silky from her wetness. And her clit? _Jesus._ It was swollen, soaked and burning.

God, she was beautiful as she bucked and thrashed. _More._ Cullen's bicep tensed and his fingers pushed even further into her. Harder. Faster.

He wanted that fucking orgasm. He wanted to hear it. Taste it. Smell it. Own it. _Mine_.

"Cullen," Bella pleaded as she grabbed for him. "Oh, fuck…I'm uh, _uh_…"

"That's it, baby," he panted as he licked her throat, tasting the salty tang of her sweat. "Give it up. Give me your cum, Bella! I want it." He nibbled her ear lobe, tasting apricot and candy. "Fuck, your pussy feels so good around my fingers." He licked her jaw: honey. "Fuck, Bella…your taste" He sucked her tit hard into his mouth: vanilla. "I can't wait to put my cock inside of you."

"OH!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Cullen felt Bella's pussy walls start to squeeze around his fingers. _Fuck yes_.

Desperate for her to orgasm, Cullen began slamming them into her; rubbing and curling and flicking her clit.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted as she gripped his hair, and crashed her mouth to his. "I'm…ah…it's, oh shit! Oh fuck! Fuck! FUCK!"

"That's it!" Cullen cried with her as she came: pulsing, and twitching, and flailing under him, "Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Bella." She crushed her lips to his, whimpering into his mouth.

Cullen held her down with his free hand splayed across her stomach as she thrashed against his chest. "Goddamn," Cullen murmured as Bella continued to writhe, "_So_ wet. _So_ wet. "

The wetness on his fingers increased ten fold, and he allowed his hand to slide and tease as she panted and whispered into his neck. Her words were low and jumbled, but the shudder in her body told Cullen all he needed to know: he'd made her cum good.

Even though his cock hadn't been touched, Cullen felt spent as Bella climaxed and glowed beneath him. He gradually slowed his hand and kissed across her collarbone, up towards her jaw. Her pulse was racing and her chest was dipping and rising like the sea. She was fucking resplendent.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he placed a gentle kiss on her open mouth. She laughed and clutched a hand to her chest. Her eyes were closed but he could see them moving under her lids.

"That was…" she blew a breath out between her lips and opened one eye to look at him. "Fuck, Cullen, your hands are genius."

This, Cullen _had_ to laugh at. "Why thank you," he growled as he pulled his hand out of her panties and wiggled his fingers in front of her. "That was so fucking hot, Bella."

The skin on his fingers glistened in the light and, Cullen had to admit, it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Well, that was until Bella took the fuckers into her mouth and sucked on them like a fucking vacuum. Cullen's hips bucked of their own accord as he moaned obscenely loud.

"Oh God," he panted as her tongue swirled around them; licking her own cum out from in between each digit, "Fucking…_uh_…Bella!" He ground his still covered dick hard into the bed, suddenly fucking desperate for release.

Bella pulled his fingers from her mouth with a loud popping sound, and moved to kiss him; gripping his face in her small hands. Their tongues met. _Holy mother of fuck._ He could taste fucking pussy on her tongue. Cullen's balls tightened so hard, they nearly disappeared inside of his body.

"What the hell are you doing to me?" Cullen groaned as she pulled her mouth away, and began kissing his face.

"I want to make _you_ feel good," she whispered. "I want you so much. I've wanted you for so long, Cullen."

"Shit," he growled as he held her close.

Bella's touches and kisses started changing from soft and sexy to desperate and frenzied, and her small whimpers slowly morphed into louder sobs.

"It was you," she muttered into his shoulder in between licks and bites. "Oh God, Cullen, it was you."

"Shhh," he soothed as the realization of where her distress was coming from hit him. "Bella, it's okay. It's okay."

"You saved me," she wept into his chest as he held her. "You…I _knew_ you were real. I knew. Everyone said I had imagined it; that you weren't real." She lifted her face and looked at him, trailing her pointer finger across his bottom lip. "But you _are_. And…it was you."

Cullen's whole body crumbled against her as he heard the words. She understood. _Oh thank God._ Wherever she had been tonight, whatever she had done after she had run from him, she had realized what he had said to her was true. He _had_ saved her. He _would_ have tried to save her father, but he couldn't. He did the only thing he could do and the thing he only ever wanted to do: he made sure Bella was safe.

Her legs wrapped around him, and she pinned him to her as she cried into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she moaned. "I'm so sorry I hit you." She began smothering his cheek with kisses. "Forgive me, please?"

He nodded but didn't speak as she kept touching him. Cullen didn't stop her. He couldn't. He needed to hear her say all that she had to. He needed to have this moment with her.

She pushed his shoulders gently and rolled them both over so that she was sitting astride his waist. Cullen kept his eyes closed, with his hands on her small hips, and let his other senses take over, focusing on every other part of her: the warmth from between her legs as she pressed down on his stomach; the sound of her breathing, the electricity in her touch, and the smell of her perfume.

"You held me," she said breathlessly as her palms explored his chest and stomach. Her fingertips danced lightly over his nipples and down his centre. "I remember the way you smelled." She pushed her nose into the crook of his neck and took a huge breath, "Oh God. It _was_ you."

Cullen's cock throbbed along with his heart as she breathed him in. "_Yes_."

"You whispered in my ear, telling me I was safe. I know now. I know why your voice makes me feel so protected." She dropped her forehead to his and let her lips whisper across his mouth.

Cullen nodded. He _had_ spoken to her - into her hair - until his voice gave out and the sirens came near. His eyes began to sting under his lids, and he clenched them tight.

_Yes, Bella, and I'd do it again a million times over just to have you here with me._

"So good," he whispered as her hands swept over his skin, up his sides to his neck and down again, memorizing him.

Oh fuck," he growled as his muscles tensed, "Don't you dare stop fucking touching me, Bella." His hands gripped her sides and caressed the skin up to her ribs, cupping her tits. "I…God, Bella, don't stop."

She shook her head, her hair falling all around him, "Never."

Their lips met again, gently, but with a passion that wrecked him. He moaned for her.

"Your arms," she muttered against his neck as her hands slid along his biceps. "I feel like I know them so well." He could feel her nails leaving imprints in his skin as she pulled them down to his forearms, and then to his hands where she entwined their fingers together, "Strong and protective," she kissed the crook of each of his elbows.

"I was meant to be in your arms, Cullen," she said firmly, the fire back in her husky voice. "I missed them. I missed _you_."

"God, Bella."

She whispered by his ear. "I've missed you my whole life."

_Sweet Jesus._ "Bella," Cullen replied as he nuzzled her neck, licking the delicate column up to her jaw. "I…I missed you too." _My heart missed you_. "My _Peaches_."

Cullen felt her smile against his cheek as she kissed it, "Always."

He exhaled loudly, expectantly, as he felt her hands move gradually down his body, outlining the grooves of his muscled stomach and the hair below his belly button. When they finally reached the buttons of his fly, Bella's hand cupped his cock through the denim of his jeans, and rubbed up his full length, hard and slow.

"Shit," Cullen snarled as his back curved and his hips lifted eagerly to meet her incredible palm. "Goddamn it, _Bella_."

It felt insanely erotic, having her rub his dick the way that she was, knowing that he was naked underneath and that her hand could be wrapped around him in mere seconds; stroking and making him beg. Holy shit, he would beg. He would beg her for fucking anything.

Bella kept up the movement of her hand: up and down, gripping and rubbing, purring and sighing and feathering his chest with kisses. Cullen's abdomen began to tense and twist in warning.

"Bella," he panted as she lapped hungrily at his nipple.

"Hmm?" Her teeth grazed his skin.

_Fuck._ Her mouth.

Cullen hissed. "You're…you're gonna make me cum if you…if you keep that shit up."

She smiled up at him and grabbed his cock tighter, making him groan. "And that's…bad?"

"Right now it is, yeah," he replied as he took a hold of her face and pulled her mouth roughly to his: hot and hungry. "I'd much rather be inside you when that shit happens," he whispered against her lips.

"God, yes," she breathed, and moved her delectable ass so that it was resting on his thighs.

With wide, excited eyes, Bella looked down at his button fly, and began to pop each one open, slowly, cautiously. Cullen closed his own eyes in anticipation, and licked his lips. _Oh_ the taste of her. That _sweet_ pussy. He would have to bury his face in that shit before long.

Fisting the bed sheets, he waited for her hands on him; waited for the softness of her palm against the thickness of his dick. It would feel so damn good. He rotated his hips impatiently, in desperate need of some friction.

Oh, fuck, he wanted her hands wrapped around him, now, _right_ now, but…she had stopped moving.

It was then that Cullen opened his eyes and looked down at her. What he saw set every nerve ending in his body on fire.

Bella was looking at his cock that was now pushing readily through his opened fly, and _Jesus_, she looked hungry for it. Like, animal hungry. Like she wanted to devour him.

The thought sent a shiver down Cullen's spine. "So fuckin' hard for you," he whispered. He wanted her to devour him, to overwhelm him, intensely, desperately. But he _had_ to be sure.

Cullen sat up, taking Bella by surprise, and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his mouth to hers. "We don't have to, Bella," he murmured as he rubbed her nose with his, in a gesture that he hoped was reassuring.

He pulled his face back and pushed her still damp hair away from her face. "I want you. I've always wanted you. But after tonight…I want it to be right. I want it to be perfect."

Her face softened and a small moan slipped out of her mouth. "It will be, Cullen," she sighed. "We're meant to be this way. Do you not feel that?"

"_Bella_," he said incredulously as he kissed the tip of her small shoulder. "I felt it from the very first moment I saw you."

She cupped his face and looked deep into him. "So don't be afraid," she encouraged. "Just be with me. Just you and me."

And they kissed.

And Cullen lost himself to her.

_Every_ part.

Every. Single. Fucking. Part.

He lay back down, bringing her with him with his hands in her hair; holding her as close as he could. She melted against him, curving into his body: a perfect fit above him. _Peaches._ Slowly, and with his mouth still fixed to hers, Cullen rolled over, covering Bella's body once again, wrapping himself around her from head to toe; their limbs aligned exactly.

Releasing her lips with a quick flick of his tongue, and with a tender kiss to her chin, Cullen pushed up on his palms and moved so that he was standing at the end of the bed. Keeping his eyes on Bella's, he quickly removed his own boots and socks. His hands were at the hips of his jeans when he saw that Bella's fingers were at the edge her panties.

_Just you and me._

Without a word spoken, they both pushed down their respective clothes, and looked at each other - naked - for the first time.

Cullen's gaze roamed down her body as Bella's eyes did the same to him. She was fucking perfect; every dip and curve of her. She was pink. Bare. And aching for his fucking mouth all over her.

"You're so beautiful," Bella whispered reverently.

Cullen inhaled a shaky breath as he took in the expression on her face. She looked captivated, enthralled by him. His cock bobbed against his stomach.

Bella smiled when she noticed this - a playful glint in her eye - before adding, "And _very_ sexy."

Cullen laughed softly, feeling the nervous tension ease slightly, before he kneeled gently on the bed between her legs, willing him self to keep his shit together. His cock was so fucking hard that it ached and pulsed with every breath. The tip glistened with his need; his lust for her.

Never had he been so insane for a woman.

He wanted all of her at once. _Every_ part of her. He wanted to make her his. Mark her. Cum in her. Cum _on_ her. He wanted to fuck her, to lick her, to feast on her. He wanted her panting, moaning, coming, and loud. He wanted her fast, hard, soft and gentle. He wanted her above him, below him, in front of him, and at his side.

He ran both of his trembling hands through his hair, terrified that they would hold her too fucking tight if he let them. He dropped them to his sides, feeling helpless, and held his breath.

"Bella, I…I want…" _I'm lost here, baby. Help me._

In a caring move that made Cullen's head feel light, Bella gently took his hand in hers and lifted it to her lips. She placed tiny kisses across his finger tips and knuckles, nuzzling his palm and breathing in his wrist before she held it tightly against her cheek. Her eyes met his and every ounce of air he had held inside of his lungs left his body in a giant surge, leaving his heart stammering and stuttering in his chest, and his knees so weak that, had he been standing, he would have surely fallen.

He _had_ fallen. He had fallen _so_ hard.

_Bella._

_Oh God._

She tilted her head up, her beauty damn near blinding him, and nodded slowly, "You and me."

He nodded back with a slack jaw and a pounding heart. "You and me," Cullen answered as his thumb traced her cheek. He watched her lie back down and settled on his knees, between her thighs.

Taking her ankle in his hand, Cullen lifted it to his mouth and placed soft open mouthed kisses around it, moving down to her foot where his tongue slid along her instep.

"Oh," she sighed as she bit down hard on her lip.

Next was her calf and the dip behind her knee. She giggled when his tongue came out to taste her there, but grunted as his palms ghosted over her skin, leaving goose flesh in their wake.

Taking his sweet ass time, Cullen crawled up her body, kissing every piece of skin that he could see along the way. Her thighs were full and sexy and he spent extra time kissing and nibbling at those, while pushing his nose into the crease of her groin. _Sweet. _He smelled but he didn't allow himself a taste. He wanted to save that delicacy and savor every moment for later.

Bella moaned and grabbed at him as he lathered the skin of her hip with his lips and tongue, and, by the time he reached her stomach, and his tongue was in her belly button, she was heaving under him and dragging his face up towards her mouth.

"Cullen," she groaned as he resisted her impatient hands. "Stop teasing."

He chuckled into her right breast and squeezed her left one. "Do you want me?" he growled as he moved over her, and flicked at her lips with his tongue.

"You know I do," she answered as her hands grabbed his ass; nipping the skin with her nails.

"Fuck. That feels good," he muttered into her neck as she did it again.

"Good." She lifted her legs up to her sides, and rested her heels on his lower back.

Cullen hissed and leaned his head back as the tip of his cock brushed her wetness. Her heat was extraordinary. His hands cupped the sides of her face and he moved his lips across hers: languid and worshipful.

Dammit, he couldn't wait to be in her. He moved his hips minutely. Yes, _so_ deep, wet, tight and…

_Oh fuckfuckfuckityshitfuck!_

He dropped his face onto her shoulder with a heavy thump, and yelled loudly into her skin as his hips retreated from her and his cock rested heavy and useless on her thigh.

"Cullen?" Bella asked nervously as her hands rubbed down his back.

Cullen smacked his hand down on the mattress by Bella's head, ready to throw him self under a fucking bus, or a cab, or fucking both, and lifted his head while avoiding her gaze.

"Bella…" he fumed as he looked at the pillow above her head. "I…fuck it, baby…I don't have any condoms."

And why would he have? He'd been in fucking prison for twelve months!

He finally looked at her to see that her face didn't look half as disappointed as he had imagined his did at that moment.

"Oh," was her genius reply.

Cullen grimaced and sighed. "I could…I could go out and get some," he offered, even though he didn't want to move from the exact fucking spot that he was in. Like, ever.

"Bella?" he asked, in confusion. She was looking nervous, and she was definitely blushing. "What is it?"

"Well, I…" She cleared her throat and started to make small circles on his shoulder with her finger tip. "I'm, um…I _am_ covered, I mean, you know…on the pill, and I'm clean…so…"

Cullen's cock thickened even further as her words sank into his brain and he realized what she was offering.

Bareback. Pure, unadulterated Bella.

_Fuck me._

"And you have to go for your check ups, right?" she asked to which he nodded like a fucking mute idiot. "So, we know _you're_ clean. And I…I trust you. That is…if you trust me?"

She looked adorably uneasy as she finished her sentence and her eyes were suddenly every where but on Cullen's face. He lifted her chin and kissed her gently.

"I _am_ clean," he said as his eyes flickered between hers. "And I _do_ trust you." He kissed both of her cheeks. "With me life," he added quietly. "But I'll only do this if you're sure, Bella."

She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as she gently pressed her heels right back into his ass, and lifted her hips to his.

"I'm really, really sure," she smiled as Cullen moaned and shifted back to his original position.

The tip of his cock was sliding along her, and, holy shit, he was suddenly fighting the natural urge to just slam straight into that pussy.

"Oh God," Bella whimpered into his mouth as she felt him tense against her. "I want to feel every inch of you."

_And so you shall._

With a loud groan, Cullen kissed her with everything he had, and moved his arms underneath her; gripping her shoulders so that she was anchored to him, crushing her to him. He needed to be anchored to something for fear that he would lose his damn mind when he put himself inside of her.

"You ready for me, Bella?" he asked, feeling his lungs squeeze when she nodded and stroked his face.

"Yes," she said tenderly. "I've always been ready." She pressed her lips to his. "I'm not afraid."

"Goddamn, you're beautiful," Cullen breathed as their foreheads met. _You're everything._

He knew that he should have said something more profound, but all he could think was that he had never ever felt like he did at that moment with anyone else in his entire life. It didn't seem enough. It wasn't enough for _her_.

Keeping his eyes on hers and breathing heavily, Cullen waited as he felt Bella's small hand around him, guiding him towards her heat. Once she released him and smiled, Cullen pushed forward slowly, and the tip of his cock slipped into her. Perfectly. Beautifully.

_Oh. Bella._

They both groaned at the sensation and Bella's hips jerked wildly. Cullen held her shoulders tightly as he opened his mouth against hers; breathing and gasping while she did the same back, all hot breath and moist lips. Bella mewed and closed her eyes tightly as Cullen pushed a little more: Slick, warmth.

"Fuck," he grunted into her cheek as Bella bowed under him when - unable to stop himself - he pushed harder, sliding further, until his hips were flush with hers, and he was fully sheathed within her. "_Fuck_."

Bella cried out loudly, and tightened her thighs around his waist and her arms around his neck. "Oh God," she moaned and kissed Cullen's throat as his head fell back in utter ecstasy.

"Oh, Bella," he mumbled as his eyes rolled. "You feel…ah, you feel…I…I…"

"I know," she replied as she pulled his face to hers. "Perfect."

Yes, it fucking was, and Cullen could do nothing but bask in the feeling of having Bella all around him. _Finally._

"Move in me."

Leaning his head close to hers, watching her face as it twisted and contorted magnificently, Cullen pulled his hips back bit by bit before pushing back into her. A shaky moan rumbled through him at the concentration it took to not pump his hips really fucking hard. He pulled back again, feeling her pussy grip and caress the entire length of him. It was fucking _sublime_.

"Oh yeah," he rasped against her collarbone.

Running his hand down from her shoulder to her hip, Cullen continued with long, deliberate, patient strokes as his mouth began to devour the woman in his arms. Bella was equally hungry for Cullen's mouth as she sucked on his lips - first the top and then the bottom - as he moved in her.

"Give me that fucking tongue, Bella," Cullen demanded as he pushed his cock into her. "I want to taste it. I want to taste my _Peaches_."

"Please," Bella whimpered as she pushed her breasts up towards him, rubbing her nipples against his chest. She stuck out her tongue, curling the tip of it, beckoning him, and, within seconds, Cullen was feasting on her, hollowing out his cheeks so he could take as much of her in as he could. She tasted so fucking good. He moaned, sending vibrations through her mouth.

"Oh," she moaned as he rotated his hips slowly at the same time.

He sucked along her tongue like a damn Popsicle, before finally releasing her with a groan. Her face was spectacular as he thrust himself deeply into her. Her brow furrowed above her dark lustful eyes, and her lips pursed. Cullen could see a small sprinkling of sweat on her cheeks that almost sparkled when the light from the doorway hit her.

"Feel good?" Cullen panted, as he licked her neck up to her ear and pushed into her again.

Bella bit her lip and nodded quickly before she lifted her hips to meet his firmly, making Cullen grunt. He had never been that vocal during sex before, but goddamn, no sex had ever felt this fucking _good_ before.

Bella's head dropped back and her hands pulled urgently at his waist. "You're…Cullen, oh God, you…you fill me so fucking much."

"Holy shit, Bella," Cullen pleaded covering her mouth with his own. "Don't," he mumbled with a shake of his head.

Her dirty little words would be all that he would need to make him cum like a fucking virgin.

"But you do," Bella gasped, "So…so…_uh_."

Cullen murmured into her hair, "I love being inside of you, Bella."

"_Yes_. Oh God. Can you go faster?"

"Mmhm," he replied with a sharp shove of his cock that made Bella's breath catch and her body rise. "But if I do, I won't be able to stop." Cullen felt her wetness start to cling to his length, "It…fucking dammit, baby." He glanced down between their bodies to watch himself move in her. He groaned and twitched at the sight. "You…feel too good."

He moved his right arm from her hip and grabbed a hold of her thigh, pushing her leg up further so that her knee was near his shoulder. The angle must have been a fucking good one because the moan that left her was fucking stunning.

"Oh yes," she breathed, "Right there."

"There?" Cullen asked in between deep loud pants. "You want it right there, Bella?"

"Uh huh." 

He pushed harder and his eyes nearly dropped from their damn sockets when he slipped even deeper inside of her.

"Shit," he hissed as his hips began to move faster. "Fuck, that's deep."

"Yes. Don't stop."

Cullen smirked inwardly because he was pretty damn certain that wild fucking horses wouldn't have been able to stop his ass.

"Does it feel good?" he asked as his mouth latched onto her neck where he began sucking and licking.

"Yes. Yes."

"Fucking right it does," he moaned and thrust twice - quickly and hard - making Bella's back lift from the bed. "Ah…_shit_."

"Oh…Cullen," Bella grunted as she held him closely, her nails were making deep grooves into the flesh of his back as she moved with him, but he couldn't have given a shit. He wanted her to mark him. He wanted her brand on him.

Well, one more at least.

He pumped faster at the thought.

"Bella," he groaned as his hips slapped the back of her thighs, hard. "I…I want…oh, fuck." The feel of her around him, her sounds and smells were too much. He was starting to lose himself and he didn't know whether to feel elated or scared to death.

"Anything," Bella answered as she bit his ear lobe, seemingly sensing his panic. "Have anything."

"I need….uh, harder," he breathed as he released her other shoulder and placed his palm on the mattress by her head, "Baby, I want you…harder."

Bella smiled up at him and ran her hand through his hair. "You want to _fuck_ me, Cullen?"

All he could do was groan and curse in reply. _Fuck yes._ His chin dropped to his chest, making his breathing sound even louder. He wanted more. Oh Christ, did he want more. _Deeper. Wetter. Harder. Faster_. But he didn't want to hurt her. He couldn't hurt his Peaches.

He rotated his hips and slammed into her again. Bella yelled out, and scratched his chest. "Again," she cried as she pushed her face into his shoulder. So he did and, fuck, it was amazing.

Cullen could feel his body start to heat from the inside out as his thrusts became firm and sure. "I…can't hurt…you," he struggled as his eyes shut of their own accord.

His body no longer felt like his own. It belonged to her. Every atom, every molecule, every bead of sweat that was starting to cover his body, every gasp, every moan, belonged to her.

He was sucking in air through his teeth and he could feel every muscle in his body scream for release. The bed covers that he had in his hand were just about ready to rip he was gripping them so hard, and the headboard of the bed had begun to tap solidly against the wall.

"You would never," Bella answered in between small groans and whimpers. "You would never hurt me, Cullen." She gripped his face and brought his ear to her soft lips, "Because you _saved_ me."

"BELLA!"

That was all Cullen needed to hear.

He flew upright, his knees holding his weight as he pulled Bella's body flush against his, her tits crushed between them, gripping her by the hip and shoulder, and began pounding into her as hard as he fucking could. Deep, powerful strokes that made Bella scream. She was clawing at him as his mouth bit and smothered as much of her as he was able, while the cries of 'fuck', 'harder' and 'Bella' filled the room until the walls could barely contain them.

His cock was so hard that it was borderline painful, but Cullen simply couldn't stop fucking the beautiful woman in his arms. He didn't want to stop. He wanted this forever. He wanted _her_ forever. He wanted to have this moment on fucking loop for the rest of his life. Her taste. Her smell. The small cries of pleasure that she was breathing in his ear. The shouts for more and the sounds of hard, wet fucking.

"You like that?" he gasped as their mouths met again, teeth and tongues everywhere at once. "You like me fucking you, Bella?"

"Fuck yes. Don't stop. _More_. More, Cullen!"

And then Cullen felt it.

Deep in his stomach as his balls tightened again, and his thighs took on a life of their own.

He was going to cum.

Oh. _Fuck_.

He was going to cum so fucking hard inside of Bella.

He tried to tell her. "Bel-…uh, uh…fuuuuck, gonna make, you're gonna..." But it was useless.

Bella merely held onto him and rode every thrust, and took every plunge of his cock, holding him as tightly as she could. She knew that's what he needed. Cullen buried his face into her hair and grunted in synch with the delicious sound of slapping skin.

"Shit…ah, Bella!"

But then, suddenly, Bella's body changed. _Fuck._ She became almost rigid in his arms, and her pussy squeezed every inch of his dick like a vice. Was she…?

"Oh God," her eyes looked at Cullen in total surprise, "Oh God. Don't stop," she moaned. "It's…its right there. Oh. _Oh_."

_Yes, baby._

Cullen clenched his teeth; willing his orgasm to hold the fuck off. _This _was what he had dreamed about: Bella, in his arms, coming all over him. And he'd be damned if he'd miss a second of it.

Bella's head fell back and her hips swiveled, seeking out any kind of friction. Cullen's thumb was immediately at her clit, flicking, pinching and rubbing her pleasure out of her. She was so fucking slick and Cullen gasped out her name when his hand brushed his own cock as it disappeared once again inside of her glorious pussy.

"Bella, please," he begged as he bit down on her shoulder. "Please cum."

"So close," she moaned, "Oh, so fucking close."

"What…fuck, baby, what can I do?" Cullen urged as his thrusts started to become sloppy and out of rhythm. "Goddamn it, Bella, tell me."

Bella lifted her head. Her eyes were hooded, dark, and full of passion. "Kiss me."

So he did. With his nose crushed against her face, Cullen smashed his mouth to hers, sliding his tongue in and out; fucking her in every way possible.

And he felt her response almost instantly. Her arms tightened around his neck, and her legs jerked at his sides as her thighs held his waist in a bone crushing grip.

"Yes. Yes," Cullen growled as he tried like hell to keep his erratic pace without blowing his load.

"I'm…fucking…_fuck_…oh, oh." Bella's head fell back and Cullen watched her as she took a huge breath and cried out at the top of her lungs as her orgasm smashed into her, "EDWARD!"

_Lights. Black. Pulsing. Wet. Release. Hard._

At the sound of his name ripping from Bella's lungs, Cullen's spine snapped, his throat opened, and, with a deafening roar, his cock exploded inside of her with such force that he lost his balance and toppled over, landing onto Bella's small body with a loud grunt.

His orgasm kept going and going, streams of pleasure shot powerfully from his cock, as his hips continued to rotate and grind into her fucking exquisite pussy. Waves of euphoric release crashed over him, leaving him breathless, groaning, and crying out for his Peaches as she sighed and mumbled unintelligible words into his sweat covered neck and shoulder.

_Nothing_. Nothing had ever felt that fucking good. Nothing would ever come close. No woman would ever come that close. With a strange feeling of contentment as he rode the best orgasm of his life, Cullen realized that he had been ruined. Bella had ruined him. He was in ruins because of her; for her. And he couldn't have been fucking happier.

"God…_God_….fuckin'…oh…Bella."

Cullen slowly returned to Earth, not entirely sure that all his limbs were attached and in working order. He did realize quickly, however, that his full weight was pressing Bella hard into his bed, and that was just unacceptable. He made to lift off of her on shaking arms and knees, but she held him fast, crushing him to her chest.

"Not yet," she murmured into his hair. "Don't leave me yet. Just stay a while longer."

Cullen didn't have the energy to argue. "Mmkay," he managed into the pillow at the side of her head, to which Bella laughed a sweet, high laugh.

It sounded beautiful, but it also made certain muscles in her body, tighten and squeeze.

"Christ, Bella," Cullen grumbled as he pulled back his hips. "For the love of God, please don't laugh while my cock is still in you."

She snorted into his arm, but did as he had asked. "Sorry." 

"S'okay."

He felt her hands and finger tips as they danced lazily across his back and fought the urge to fall asleep as best as he could. With a sigh and a small kiss to her neck, Cullen slipped his softening dick gently from her. He was instantly bereft.

"You're still shaking," she whispered as she kissed the corner of his mouth.

He smiled with his eyes closed, and raised his eyebrows. "I'll be alright. You just…damn, woman…that was…"

His mouth came to a grinding halt as words completely eluded him. He opened his eyes and looked at her for inspiration.

"It was," she finished for him as she stared deeply into his eyes, knowing exactly what he was talking about. She looked so stunning in her post-coital glow that Cullen couldn't help but cup the side of her face in his palm and kiss her again.

He was greedy for her. He sighed as he felt her feet rub down the back of his thighs while her hands weaved their way into his hair.

"You know," he said as he released her lips and gazed down at her perfect face. "Maybe Donne had it right." He let his index finger trail down her nose to her gorgeous bee stung lips.

Bella tried to suppress her smile, but failed miserably, "Oh yeah? About what?"

He tucked her curling hair behind her ear and traced her lobe with his thumb. "About being with someone," he murmured. "About it being, like heaven."

Bella's eyes closed gently at his words, and Cullen prayed that he hadn't said the wrong thing. He shifted nervously and placed a gentle kiss to her throat. "Too much?" he hedged with caution in his voice.

She shook her head. "No," she replied as she reopened them. "It was _exactly_ like that." She opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

Cullen knew that he could get lost in those large, doe eyes, and he would have, quite happily. He let his gaze wander from her forehead to her chin, taking in every line and soft edge. He realized that her smile had widened.

"It's rude to stare," she chided.

He chuckled and rubbed the tip of her nose with his own. "I'm sorry," he murmured. He watched her carefully for a while, looking for any signs of regret. "Are you ok?" he asked. "I mean…about…about what I told you? About…who I am."

She gazed back up at him and nodded silently.

"I'm more than okay," she whispered as her hands cupped his face. She pulled his lips to hers and kissed him.

Cullen's eyes rolled closed and he exhaled down his nose in contentment. Their tongues touched briefly, tenderly and Cullen's lips were still moving when she pulled away. His eyes fluttered open to see her gazing adoringly at him. His heart halted for one beat.

Feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, Cullen shifted down Bella's body and rested his ear against her damp chest, smiling when he heard her own heart thumping quickly behind her ribs. Her fingers moved leisurely from his shoulders into his hair, and she began stroking and massaging his scalp. He was almost asleep when he heard her whisper his name.

"Edward?"

His spine tingled. Never had his first name sounded so fucking good as it had when she had screamed it at the top of her lungs as she came.

"Yeah?"

She gripped his hair gently, and took a deep breath. "Thank you," she breathed.

He frowned in confusion. "What for?" he asked quietly. She didn't reply or move.

"Bella?" he asked nervously. He lifted his head and rested his chin on her sternum as he looked up at her. "Sweetheart, what are you thanking me for?"

Bella looked back at him, her eyes filled with so much emotion that a lone tear slipped down her temple.

She swallowed hard before answering him, "For saving my life."

**Holy...Batman.**

**I hope it was worth the wait? *hides behind laptop***

**Next update in two weeks.**

**Follow me on Twitter:- (at)sophiejax**

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**Leave me love…or hate.**

**TTFN xxx**


	27. Chapter 27

**Hello to all.**

**To say that I was shocked by the reaction to the last chapter is ****a gross understatement. I never, ever, ever expected the response to PAW and Peaches' first time to be so incredible.**

**I have been unwell for the past three weeks and, as a result, I have not been able to answer all the reviews, emails and PMs that came through, but, please believe me when I say that I am truly humbled, touched and blown away by all your words of love and encouragement. **

**The amount of reviews for Chapter 25 was the same amount of reviews that Help Wanted hit at Chapter 22, just to give you an idea of how overwhelmed I am.**

**Additionally, ****PoF has also been nominated in the Sparkleteer Awards for Best Lemon and two others. **

**Seriously, y****ou're all amazing.**

**Although it seems horrendously inadequate: t****hank you. Massively.**

**From the Princesses on Twitter to the Ninja's on Twilighted…MWAH!**

**I realised that, in**** the A/N for the last chapter, I forgot to post the link for the Sinatra song that PAW hums to Peaches in Central Park. Sorry. It's called 'Someone to watch over me'. **

**Here you go:- ****http:(/)www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=mlgWm7Yly-I**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 26: Possession****s**

"_Though we take from a covetous man all his treasure, he has yet one jewel left; you cannot bereave him of his covetousness."_ ~ **John Milton**

**From Chapter 25:-**

"_Sweetheart, what are you thanking me for?"_

_Bella looked back at him; her eyes filled with so much emotion that a lone tear slipped down her temple._

_She swallowed hard before answering him, "For saving my life."_

_##_

Cullen froze against Bella's small body; his rough, stubbled chin resting on her smooth, soft sternum, as the words left her perfect mouth. His lips twitched with a response, but for the motherfucking life of him he had no clue what to say.

_You're welcome? __Any time, beautiful? Saving you was the best thing I've ever done in my life? _

He swallowed and watched as she wiped gently with her finger tips at the small tears that had fallen. Even though Cullen knew that she was anything but, Bella looked minute and delicate beneath him, and he at once felt the need to change that. With a soft sigh, he slowly moved back up her body and cupped her face in his hands; resting his weight on his forearms at either side of her head.

"Bella," he whispered with his nose just inches from hers. He waited for her eyes to meet his, and gently smiled down at her when they did. She was stunning. "You're here." He let his thumb trace her pink cheek and watched the colour deepen under his touch. "That's all that matters."

She smiled back and nodded into his palms. Cullen could see the conflict of emotions in her eyes: fear, affection, hurt, and felt a sharp twist of unease in his chest. He knew that Bella didn't regret what they had just done – she'd said so, and she'd told him that she wanted him, and, holy fuck, had he felt, heard and tasted that want. But he was hopelessly aware of the dangers that surrounded her because of their actions.

_He_ would be sure to get a slap on the proverbial wrist for being with Bella in any other capacity than student, but that was nothing compared to the shit storm that would meet her if people found out about the path their relationship had taken. Her job was one thing: Newton, Garrett and the parole board, but her family would be something else entirely.

Something told Cullen that, should Mama Swan find out about his previous lascivious intentions towards her daughter, she wouldn't be first in line to grant them her blessing. The fact that he saw Bella as much more than a sexual conquest now would make no fucking difference to how people regarded his ass. Prejudice was a fuck awful reality for Cullen.

He was an ex-con, and, as such, was an untrustworthy, bottom-feeder.

No pretty words or fancy declarations could change that shit. They would never see him as anything else. Their narrow-mindedness would blind them to what he truly felt for Isabella Swan. His Peaches. His Bella.

Cullen's heart squeezed at the thought. He had to simply pray that, whatever the two of them had found together, in his bedroom; it was enough to keep Bella with him for as long as possible. He wanted more with her; from her, and he was willing to step up to the plate to get it. She was worth any and all of the shit that would come his way, and he would be there to protect her as best as he could.

Plus, with lewd thoughts back at the fucking forefront of his disgustingly male brain, Cullen knew he definitely wanted there to be a round two: a round two of being inside her_. Fuck, yes_. And a round three…and four…maybe even five…

He licked his lips as he looked down at her swollen mouth and flushed cheeks. So sexy. He could feel her soft body beneath his, damp and hot, and felt his groin tighten. He'd caused that shit. He'd made her look spent and glorious. _Fuck._

Bella smirked coyly as if reading his dirty mind and Cullen couldn't help but mirror it.

"Can I…um, can I use your bathroom?" she bit her lip and shifted slightly, glancing down at their chests that were fused together with sweat and heat.

"Oh, yeah, shit," Cullen replied quickly as he lifted from her, and rolled ungracefully to her right, "Of course."

"Thanks," she murmured as she pulled the bed sheets over her boobs and tucked the edges under her arms.

She shuffled carefully to the edge of the bed before pausing - seemingly anxious about something - and looked around herself.

Cullen lifted himself up onto his elbows, and skimmed his concerned fingertips across the middle of her back. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Bella laughed as she tucked her hair behind her ears; her cheeks a beautiful pink. "Do…do you have a shirt I can borrow?"

Cullen frowned but smiled. "A shirt?" he repeated with a dip of his chin as Bella looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Mmhm."

Cullen couldn't help the small snort of laughter that escaped as realisation dawned on him.

Was this girl _serious_?

Not a half hour ago she had begged him to fuck her seven ways from Sunday; spread herself naked on his bed ready for him to feast on, and ridden his cock like a champ.

And _now_ she was asking for a shirt so she didn't have to walk her sexy, bare ass to the bathroom?

Bella narrowed her eyes at him, knowing exactly where his mind was, and pouted. "The shirt, Cullen," she said playfully.

"Oh, it's _Cullen_ now, huh?" he retorted with an eye roll and a smirk as he reached down from the bed, and grabbed the closest t-shirt he could see that had been thrown carelessly onto the floor by his wardrobe.

He lifted back up onto the bed with a groan - not caring if his own backside was on show - and threw it back at Bella with a chuckle.

"Here you go, _Miss Swan_."

She yanked it down from where it had landed on her head, and laughed.

"Asshole," she murmured before pulling it on.

She stood from the bed, and Cullen watched with a slack jaw as the hem dropped down the length of her lithe body; grazing the delicious dimples and curves of her ass, before coming to rest at the back of her soft, pale thighs that had gripped his waist so damn hard as they had fucked.

"Damn," he whispered to himself as she walked across the room and into the bathroom where she closed the door with a soft click.

Cullen fell back onto the bed with a hard thump, and rubbed his palms across his stomach as he closed his eyes in satisfaction. Bella in his clothes was officially his new favourite thing. _Fuck_.

Smiling widely to himself, Cullen rolled over and grabbed a handful of tissues from his side table to clean him self up. Once done, and when his cock no longer glistened with his and Bella's pleasure, he tossed the paper unceremoniously into the waste basket at the other side of his room.

As tired as his body felt, Cullen knew he had to move. He stood naked from the bed, pulled on a pair of grey sweats that hung low on his hips, and jogged out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. He was thirsty as fuck after what was, without doubt, the best sex of his life, and he knew that Bella had to be too. After grabbing two glasses, Cullen dove into the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. He sniffed it once to make sure that it was okay to drink and poured it out, taking a few sneaky sips as he did.

Placing the carton back in the fridge, he slapped his hands to his thighs as he glanced around at the cupboards, wondering if he should get Bella something to eat. He smiled widely when he spotted the one that held his Oreo stash. Fucking perfect.

Cullen picked up all of the clothes that were now leaving huge puddles of rain water on his floor and threw them into the dryer, setting that shit to an hour. He didn't know if Bella would leave - he hoped beyond hope that she wouldn't - but at least she'd have dry clothes if she did.

With the Oreo box tucked safely under his arm and a glass of milk in each hand, Cullen made his way back into the bedroom. He stopped abruptly in the doorway, and took in the sublime vision before him. Peaches: sated, in his clothes, on his bed.

The side lamp had been turned on, and Bella was sitting against the pillows; still in his t-shirt, legs stretched bare and long across the sheets with a small smile on her face.

He smiled back and felt his cock whimper. _Holy fuck._

"What?" Bella asked softly as her eyes wandered hungrily down his naked chest. He loved it when she stared at him like that: greedy, desiring, and lustful. The first time that Cullen had seen that look had been in the club when they had danced together and she had told him that she wanted him.

Cullen cleared his throat of the memory of having her pushed up against the club wall and the dress she had been wearing that night. He debated asking her if she'd wear it again just for him.

"Nothing," he replied with a small shake of his head. He walked towards her. "You just look…fucking spectacular in my bed."

She took the glass of milk he was holding out with a soft 'thank you', and nodded towards his stomach. "You don't look half bad yourself either there, Sir."

"Thanks," he murmured with a smirk as he placed his own drink on the bedside table, and bent down until he was eye level with her. The brown of her eyes was extraordinary: hazels, caramels, and chocolate.

"Does that mean…" His eyes darted to her luscious mouth. "I can kiss you?" Cullen asked.

His gaze continued to travel from her lips, down her neck, his t-shirt, to her legs, and back again.

Bella hesitated as her eyes widened, and the left side of her mouth lifted when she caught sight of the blue box under his right arm. "Will you share your Oreos with me?"

Holding in his own smile, Cullen pretended to look conflicted. He shrugged and grimaced with a loud sigh. "I suppose," he grumbled with a tilt of his head and a roll of his eyes.

Bella laughed lightly. "Then I _suppose_ you can have a kiss."

Cullen's tongue instinctively found his bottom lip. "Yeah?" he asked in an almost whisper.

Bella's voice was equally rough and filled with desire as she answered, "Yeah."

Cullen gently rested his palm on the bed by her thigh, and leaned towards her, watching her mouth carefully as he moved closer.

Bella's eyes closed just as their lips met, but Cullen kept his open. She was too damn beautiful for him to look away from. Their lips pressed together gently: warm and moist. The urgency in their touches was gone for now, but not forgotten, and Bella was the first to start deepening the kiss by opening her mouth and taking Cullen's bottom lip in between hers. She nibbled on it lightly and cupped Cullen's jaw as she did.

He simply revelled in everything she was doing to him. It was so fucking erotic having her hold him to her as her mouth made tender love to his. His skin rippled under her touch and, as sated as he was, Cullen's cock gave a grateful twitch as the tips of their tongues touched. It wasn't helped by the visual he still had of her sucking her own wetness off of his fingers. _Jesus_, that was hot.

He hummed as Bella placed soft kisses across his mouth before she pulled away. Cullen leaned into her palm and watched her eyes as they fluttered open.

"You know," he said with a mischievous smile as her pupils refocused on him. "I'm definitely in fucking favour of peach flavoured Oreos."

As Bella laughed, Cullen leaned forward and kissed her again. He was a greedy assed motherfucker he knew, but he couldn't help it. The freedom that their union had brought him was too good to ignore. Cullen seriously felt as though he could take on the world and slap the shit out of it and all of the assholes who resided there.

With a gentle caress of his tongue along hers, Cullen lifted back from Bella's mouth and crawled onto the bed, sitting beside her; placing the box of cookies on her barely covered lap.

"You get _one_," he deadpanned as she began to open the packet. He grunted when her elbow met his rib. "Fuck, okay, okay, _two_."

He smirked as Bella laid two Oreos on his stomach, just below his belly button, and kept the box to herself with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Thief," he muttered as he twisted the cookie and began licking at the white delights. Fucking Oreos were the best.

To be a prick, Cullen pretended like he couldn't see Bella out of the corner of his eye, staring at him as his tongue went to work. Instead, he flicked the tip of it slower and in small circles, caressing the cream as though it _was_ her sweet pussy. Fuck, he couldn't wait to taste her. Peach Oreos for the motherfucking win.

He smiled when he heard her clear her throat and saw her shift against the pillows. _Success._ He wondered, fleetingly, if she was wet again. His cock was definitely feeling heavier between his legs.

Leaning across Bella to grab his glass of milk, he winked at her and laughed when she called him a tease. Yeah. She was wet.

"So," Bella mumbled as she shuffled further down the bed, situating herself with her knees up and her milk resting on her flat stomach. "Do you always serve your women with post-coital Oreos and milk, or is all this just for me?"

Cullen could see the teasing in her face, but her words still annoyed him. He frowned down at her; hurt tingeing the edges of his jaw.

"I don't have _women_, Bella," he replied sharply as he placed his empty glass down heavily onto the side table, and crossed his arms over is chest.

He had had his fair share of conquests for sure, but, fuck it, she _had_ to know that he never had women in his bed the way that she was right now, and he would never allow them to stay long enough after the event to have any food or drink – let alone his fucking Oreos. He exhaled towards his feet and rubbed his chin with his knuckles.

He felt, rather than saw Bella move towards him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I was…it was just a joke." His muscles tensed as her hand slid gently across his hip, coming to rest on his forearm.

He looked down at her to see her face was one of concern and regret. Her gaze met his and he felt himself melt.

"I know," he relied with a quick nod. "Just…don't say shit like that. Okay?" He let the back of his index finger glide across her chin. "You're not like that to me."

Before she could look away with the embarrassment that her statement had caused, Cullen's hand was under her chin, bringing her face back to his. "Okay?" he repeated firmly.

"Okay," she answered with a small smile. "I didn't mean to upset you." She rubbed her hand along his arm. "You're different for me too."

Cullen smiled back. "Just you and me," he said quietly as he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

The sudden urge to simply have Bella closer to him almost overwhelmed Cullen, and, before he realised what he was doing, he had lifted his arm and had wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. He slid further down the headboard and smiled when Bella cuddled closer, curving her body against his. She held him snugly around the waist, and it was fucking perfect. Cullen's nose found its favourite spot in her hair and he closed his eyes as she relaxed into him, and breathed her warm breath across his chest.

His palm rubbed across her delicate back in comforting circles as her finger tips danced around his chest and nipple. Their legs tangled comfortably, and, with much shuffling, Cullen pulled the covers over them both. As new as the sensation was of cuddling a woman in his bed, Cullen couldn't help but feel like he and Bella had been doing that very thing for years. It was familiar, comfortable, and made his whole body suddenly feel complete.

"Bella," he rasped after an age of silence and almost sleep.

"Mmm," her finger tips slid up and down his waist.

Cullen pressed his lips to her scalp. "Where did you go tonight?"

He felt her small feet move against his shins, and tightened his hold on her. He didn't want to upset her, but he was aching to find out what had led her to his doorstep after she'd screamed such hatred at him. What had triggered the realisation that he _had_ saved her and that he _hadn't_ held her back from helping her father?

"Peaches?" he murmured into her temple, after a few minutes of quiet tension.

She took a deep breath and moved even closer to him. "I wandered for a long time," she answered as her fingers gripped Cullen's side. "I…I didn't know what to do. I was just…I just hurt. Everywhere."

Cullen kissed her hair and nodded. He knew what she meant. He had been desolate and empty when she had run from him and he prayed that he would never feel that way again. It was like being skinned alive and burned, all at the same time. He hoped, with every inch of himself that Bella hadn't felt like he had. He pulled her closer.

"It was raining so hard," she continued in a small voice. "I eventually got home, but I have no idea how I got there." She paused. "I think I got a cab."

She rubbed her chin against Cullen's chest and placed a gentle kiss on his throat. "I…had a couple of drinks and paced…a lot." Cullen heard the smile in her voice, but he knew it was forced. Her voice dropped and became thick with sorrow and regret. "I couldn't decide whether I hated you or…whether…I needed you, which made me hate you more."

Her hand moved up to his neck and she began to play with his ear lobe. "I'm sorry," she whispered against his neck.

Although her words about hating him stung, Cullen knew that, in many ways, he deserved them. He had been under no illusions. He knew that she would hate him. The more she had talked with him about her father, the more Cullen knew how much the truth would hurt her. The fear of her wrath was why it had taken him so long to tell her. He just praised every deity that he had ever heard of that her loathing for him hadn't lasted long.

"Don't, Bella," he soothed, as the tip of his nose rubbed her cheek. "It's alright. Shit, I should have told you sooner. I understand that yo-"

"Let me finish," she interrupted in her no nonsense tone. Cullen couldn't help the small smile that danced across his lips. He loved her no bullshit voice. He always had. In any other situation he would have been hard as fuck. As it was, he simply nuzzled her scalp in apology.

"I called my mother," she said quickly.

Cullen's hand halted its movement against her shoulder blade. "What?"

Bella scoffed into his skin. "I know. I must be fucking stupid to call her, huh?"

"Well…what did you say?" Cullen tried to hide the anxiety in his voice. Would she have told her mother the truth? _Holy shit_. He wasn't sure whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing.

"Not much," she replied. Her voice, even though it was quiet, sounded annoyed and shaky. "As soon as she heard it was me," Bella continued. "She started….telling me how _disappointed_ she was about what happened at my grandmother's last week. She said I was _ungrateful_ for the people around me; the people that_ cared_ about me. That she only wanted what was best for me and that I was too self-involved and…caught up with…_you_…and my work to see that."

Cullen felt his heart pick up pace: half because he hated Bella's dick of a mother for making her feel so fucking terrible, and half in response to his name being brought up. He swallowed.

"She…she knows about me?"

"She knows that you're my student," Bella clarified quickly.

She lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. She was so close that Cullen had to shift his own back into the cushions beneath it.

"She knows that I…that I care for you," she added as her index finger moved along his bottom lip.

Cullen felt a cold shiver run down his spine as the last seven days suddenly began to fall into place: The unanswered calls and texts. Bella turning up at his door in pieces, begging for him to fix her. The reaction to her full name. The tears. The need to hear him say that he wanted her.

It was because of him. _All_ of it. Her mother knew that there was something going on between her daughter and her convict student and the shit had hit the fan. _Of course._

"That's why you left your family and friends." He said it as a statement and not a question. "That's why you came back from Chicago." He smiled wryly at the realisation. "They know."

If they knew that would mean a shit load of trouble for Bella. Fucking Christ, no wonder her mom was pissed.

Bella shook her head silently, never taking her eyes away from his as he began to panic.

"They _think_ they know what's going on right now, but they don't. They have no fucking idea." The anger was clear in her voice.

"Cullen, you have to understand, my own _mother_ thinks that my choices are wrong and that I'm still a kid who knows nothing. She doesn't know how much I love my job; how much I love what I do everyday, how much I love…"

Her eyes burned with fury behind the moisture that had welled there. Her gaze left his and she suddenly became fixated with his chest.

Through gritted teeth, she continued. "They don't care about me, Cullen. They want to coddle me, and tell me what to do." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose.

"My best friend, my best friend who I sat with and told about you, _lied_ to me about knowing you and how you were related to her fiancé. How could she do that? How could she not tell me _that_?" Her voice got higher as her pupils darted frantically from side to side as though the answer was hidden somewhere on Cullen's skin.

"My mom wants me to apologise to Alice. To Jasper. To her! _Fuck!_" Her hands found her hair and tugged at it. "Do they all think that I'm stupid? Do they? I mean, how could my mother think that I'm a disappointment just because_ I_ fucking decide what _I_ want?" Her index finger ploughed into her own chest. "But it's _my_ choice, Cullen. They have to see that, don't they? How could they…How can I…I don't know why they…I'm so…I can't…"

As Bella's voice cracked Cullen pulled her to him, hard. Kissing her hair; he held her as closely as he could, hoping that it was enough to soothe her as she began to weep.

"It's okay, baby," he whispered while trying to hide his anger at the fucks who had hurt her. "Shh, it's okay. I've got you."

While her shoulders shook, Cullen lifted her so that he was cradling her in his lap, and rocked her gently as she cried hurt, angry tears onto his chest. Her small hands held onto him to an almost painful level, but Cullen welcomed it. If she felt safe with him, it was more than he could ever have wished for.

It seemed like a long time had passed before Bella's tears started to slow, and her breaths returned to normal. She fingered the hair at the nape of Cullen's neck, making his eyes roll into the back of his head. Even the smallest of her touches felt so damned good.

Her voice was a lot stronger; a lot more determined when she began to speak again. "While my mom was…_regaling_ me with her opinions, it suddenly hit me."

Bella lifted her head from under Cullen's chin, cupped his face and looked so far into him, he was sure she could see his soul

"You're the _only_ person who treats me like I'm me," she murmured determinedly. "Who makes me feel like what I'm doing is right and meaningful. There's no bullshit; no hiding with you."

Her lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile, "Just you and me. And I began to see how hard it must have been for you to tell me about who you are." Her palm slid down his jaw. "Cullen, I know that the only reason you didn't tell me was because you were scared, not because you thought I was stupid."

Bella dropped her forehead to his as he nodded and exhaled heavily.

"You were there that night," she whispered. "You _know_ what I went through. You're the _only_ person on this planet who knows what I went through." She paused and shook her head. "And do you want to know something really ironic?" Her eyes blazed as she looked at him. "My family, my friends, the cops, my fucking therapist, they all said that you weren't real; that you were a figment of my imagination, a result of post-traumatic stress."

Bella nuzzled his cheek. "But you're the most real thing in my whole fucking life." She fisted the hair at the back of his head. "Do you know that, Cullen?"

Cullen couldn't answer her. He was mute; speechless, and frantic for her touch. "_Bella_," was all he could utter before their mouths met, forceful and hot. His hands gripped her face firmly as his lips sucked at hers, and their tongues twisted in the air between them.

Three little words that had been whispering relentlessly through his psyche for so long began to bubble furiously up through Cullen's chest, whipping the breath from his lungs. Swallowing them and the fear that forever accompanied them back down, Cullen gently rolled Bella onto her back and settled at her side, lifting one of her legs over his hip. Although she moaned as he did it, the movement was not sexual in its intent. He wanted her, fucking, Jesus, he wanted her, but Cullen did it to reassure her; to reassure her that he _was_ real and that he would _always_ be that way with her.

He kissed her cheeks dry and let his palms wander across the soft skin of her arms and face, breathing in her sighs as they left her.

"Stay with me tonight," he gasped as their lips parted only slightly aware of the words as they tumbled form him. He pushed her hair from her face and kissed her cheek. "Please, Bella, just…just for tonight." He searched her face for an answer. "But don't stay just because you're upset. Stay because you want to. Stay with _me_ because you _want_ to."

Cullen didn't know where the pleading words were coming from. All he knew was that he meant them, and he needed her to say yes more than anything else at that moment.

The smile that appeared on her face could have lit up Broadway, and the sparkle in her eye made Cullen's body ignite.

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied as her hand slid gently from his temple to his chin.

Cullen smiled back at her and crushed his lips once more against hers, peppering her with soft kisses, hard kisses, wet kisses, sexy kisses, chaste kisses, long moaning kisses and slow breathless kisses. He was fraught with the need to let her know with his body just how much she meant to him, and what it did to him having her in his bed, in his arms. _In his life_.

Exhausted, jubilant, and with very swollen lips; Cullen eventually rolled onto his back and, with a mumbled goodnight, fell into a peaceful and contented sleep with his Peaches tucked safely into his side.

=PoF=

Cullen was surrounded deliciously by small arms and legs, and had a cock that was as hard as a fucking rock, when he eventually reopened his eyes. Bella was wrapped around him like a damn spider monkey, but he couldn't have cared less. Instead, he dipped his mouth to her shoulder and placed a soft kiss. She smelled amazing: sweet, warm and tantalizing. He was still slightly delirious that she had stayed with him all night and tucked his arm further around her.

She'd stayed because she wanted to. He smiled against her skin.

Bella shifted next to him and he had to bite back the moan that threatened as her calf rubbed across his eager crotch. He held onto her thigh, halting her from provoking him further, and smiled as she mumbled and pursed her lips as she slept. He chanced a glance at the alarm clock over her head to see that it was almost six in the morning. He'd slept for almost seven hours. Jesus, it had been a while since he had slept so long and so deep. It had been a long time since he had felt so calm and rested.

"Edward."

Cullen's eyes snapped back to Bella's, expecting to lose himself in the deep brown, but frowned when he saw that she was still sound asleep. His cock gave an appreciative slap against his thigh at the sound of his first name falling from her mouth once more; especially in the husky, sex-filled tone that she used.

Her cupped her face and let his forehead rest against hers, "Yes, Bella?"

"Edward." 

He chuckled quietly and ran his fingers through her hair, "Yes, Bella?"

She shifted again and frowned. "Don't put the cat on the table. It'll get paw prints on the essay."

Cullen tried to hold in his laughter but the snort was far too big to hide. "Of course, Bella," he replied as he held her close. "We wouldn't want that now would we?"

She made another strange clicking type noise and snuggled closer. Cullen smiled into her hair and took a deep breath. His body, which, apart from his morning wood, had been exceptionally relaxed, tensed when he suddenly felt Bella's hand begin stroking his stomach while her plump lips rubbed their way gently across his throat. She yawned.

"Wouldn't want what?" she muttered. 

Cullen sighed, trying to ignore how close her hand was to his cock. "Nothing," he replied. "I was just talking to myself."

"Oh."

He exhaled with a slight growl as her pinkie finger disappeared under the waistband of his sweat pants, fingering the course hair that lay under his belly button. Her movements were languid; almost teasing.

"Are you awake?" he asked with a tight voice as her fingers continued their delicious torture.

_Lower, baby. Please, just a little lower._

"Yeah," she replied, looking up at him finally. She was adorably crumpled from sleep and looked confused by his question. "Why?"

He smiled wolfishly and rolled onto his side, holding her thigh firmly to his waist. "Because," he growled into her neck. "If your hand goes any lower, I will not be responsible for my actions." He flicked her collarbone with the tip of his tongue. "And I would much rather you be awake while I fucked you."

Cullen could feel her smile against his temple and the purr was nice and fucking loud in his ear. His palm slid under her thigh going all the way up to her delectable ass. He couldn't help but give it a nice squeeze which made her arch into him.

She kissed the tip of his shoulder and hummed in approval. "Can I ask you something?"

Cullen kissed her left earlobe. "Anything," he rumbled, wanting nothing more than to start grinding his erection against her.

"How many tattoos do you have?"

Cullen paused in his kisses and lifted his head back to look at her, surprised by her question. "Um…" He bit the inside of his lip and began counting silently in his head, "About twenty?"

Bella laughed lightly. "You don't know?"

Cullen grimaced a little. "Not exactly," he murmured. "Some I had done when I was…" He glanced away from Bella's innocent face. "I wasn't really…you know…I was drunk or…high."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he looked to see Bella's eyes looking down at the arm that was holding her thigh against him. Some he'd done in anger, some in rebellion. Some just because he was an asshole and liked the feeling of the needle.

"I like these," she said softly as her fingers traced the two black tribal stars on the inside of his bicep, "And this one." Her hand moved seductively to the thick black vines that ran around his arm to his elbow, her nails grazing the dips and twist of the ink. "I like the red here." She pointed to the deep crimson on his shoulder and traced it to where the vines thinned into dark, sinister clouds.

The clouds covered a little of his chest to his collar bone, but then disappeared onto his back where there was also a large black orchid set amongst giant waves. Cullen didn't know whether Bella had really looked at the ones that were etched down his spine and along his ribs. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to explain all of them, or whether he even could.

"You like them?" he asked, feeling his pulse quicken as her small hands explored the markings on his skin.

There was something so unbelievably sexy about his Peaches touching and looking at his tattoos. She'd seen him bare-chested before, but she had never really seemed that interested. Her face now, however, was entranced as she explored. Her eyes were wide and misty, and the pink tip of her tongue was poking from the left corner of her mouth.

Cullen wanted to suck the life out of that shit.

"Mmhm," Bella replied finally as she lowered her head and placed a soft kiss in the centre of his chest, "They add character." She smiled. "And they're very," she kissed his left pec, "very," his nipple, "sexy."

Cullen closed his eyes and let the deep smoulder that he had in his stomach for her, start to move outwards. Bella's touch was like electricity through water. It jolted him awake; alive. It was heat, fire and burned deep into his bones. He wondered - as her hands started to become harder on his body - how the fuck he'd lived without it for so long.

He moaned as her tongue slid up his Adam's apple and grunted when their mouths connected: deep, passionate and needy. His hand moved from Bella's ass and slipped beneath to the juncture between her thighs, making her gasp loudly as his fingers traced the outside lips of her pussy. _So soft._

He teased her; letting the pad of his index finger gently whisper between them; caressing her clit with the lightest of touches.

"Oh God," she groaned into his mouth as her fingers tightened around his neck.

Cullen smiled smugly as he pinched her clit between his finger and thumb, making her hips jerk and a quiet yelp erupt from her mouth, "That feel good?"

"Yes," she panted as she began to lap at his bottom lip like a cat.

He did it again and she moaned even louder, "God, your fingers, Cullen." She wound her hips in a circle, silently begging for more.

"These fingers?" he asked as he kissed her neck and nibbled along her jaw while stroking her delicate flesh so slowly, he knew that he was tormenting her.

"Yes. More. _Please_."

He moaned deep in his throat as she pleaded. "Seeing as you asked so nicely," he breathed next to her mouth.

He instantly halted his movements: waiting; needing her to look at him. Bella lifted her eyes curiously to his and, as soon as he saw the desperate yearning and desire for him within them, Cullen placed his fingertips against her, and began to rub her clit and pussy.

Hard.

"Fuck, yes!" Bella cried out as Cullen pulled her leg up further so that the back of her knee was in the crook of his elbow.

"Goddamn it, Bella," Cullen grunted as he felt her palm grab frantically at his cock through his sweats.

He was so fucking hard. Fuck's sake she'd made him leak. The wet patch on the fabric was clearly visible under her palm as she moved it up and down. She grappled and rubbed, but there was nowhere near enough fucking friction for Cullen to be satisfied.

In a frenzy, Cullen yaked his sweats over his dick and gripped Bella's firmly hand around his erection.

"Don't fucking tease me, Peaches," he hissed at her ear. "I _want_ you to touch my cock."

Bella moaned and brought her hand up his length.

"Tighter," he ordered through gritted teeth. His dick was instantly engulfed by her and he exhaled heavily in relief.

As his fingers continued to move against her, they began to slip easily along her wetness, Cullen gasped and felt his balls tighten immediately. "You're drenched for me, Bella. _Fuck_. You _do_ like my fingers."

Bella hummed in reply, sucked his tongue aggressively into her mouth, and pumped her hand faster around him. She was becoming wild for him. Cullen groaned at the sensation of his left hand over hers, rubbing and gripping, and his right conjuring an orgasm from her sweet pussy. He dipped his middle finger into her, right to the knuckle, and they both moaned loudly.

_More._

As Bella's head bent backwards in ecstasy, Cullen slipped in another finger and immediately felt her tense around him. But it wasn't in a sensual way. It was almost as if she had…flinched? _Shit._ Was she sore?

He hesitated: torn between the incredible feeling of her being so tight and soaked around him, and the thought that she might be tender from their fucking the night before. Had he really been that rough with her?

Bella shook her head as they kissed, and gripped his cock harder, caressing the wet tip with her thumb in a way that made Cullen's own neck bend backwards while a growl ripped from his chest.

"Don't stop," she gasped as she moved her hips towards him. "Please. Don't stop."

"But," he murmured as their hands worked his dick so hard that Cullen was almost breathless. "You're…are you…?"

"It's okay," Bella moaned into his ear. "Please. I'm so close already."

"Fuck, baby," he gasped as he pushed his fingers into her as slowly as his need for her would allow, and began pumping them in and out. He felt the tension start to leave her and her hips began to move with him, wanting and seeking more.

"That's it," she told him as she kissed him; biting his tongue. "That's fucking it."

"Bella...uh...more," he mumbled into her mouth and then down her neck as her movements along him stuttered. "My _Peaches,_" he whispered into her skin."I need you. I've needed you for so long, baby."

With a loud whimper and a garbled 'yes', Bella shifted her hips and urged Cullen towards her by pushing her palm against his shoulder. Cullen obliged eagerly, wanting to be closer to her, and cried out when the tip of his cock pressed against her soaked clit.

"Christ! _Fuck_!"

Bella shuddered and moaned as their bodies moved together. Hard against soft. Cullen's hips pulled back as his length slid along her slit; his fingers still buried inside of her. He grabbed at her tiny waist, begging her to move faster, harder beside him as he began to fuck her clit, and held her tightly as she acquiesced instantly.

"So good, Bella. Do you know how _fucking_ good you feel? Holy shit."

With her eyes squeezed tightly shut, Bella simply groaned in response. Seemingly incapable of words, she wrapped herself around him, getting as close as she could. Cullen thrust against her firmly, biting her collarbone as her wetness began to cover their hands and his cock.

"Oh God," Bella panted in his ear. "Close...so close...it's..."

Cullen pumped his hips faster, and moaned when Bella cried out. Her legs twitched and her fingers dug into his back as she mumbled, murmured and purred before - with a huge shudder - she exploded against him.

"Fuck, fuck, Bella," Cullen grunted as he rubbed her from the inside, feeling her pussy walls constrict around his fingers as her orgasm overtook her. He could feel her clit pulsing against his dick and swivelled his hips in pleasure.

As she panted and moaned for him Bella's hand stilled on his cock. Knowing that se was without the energy to keep going, Cullen continued to pump himself, feeling his own orgasm as it tiptoed to the very edge of release. Pushing Bella onto her back, he slowly removed his fingers from her and rubbed her juices along himself, growling as his movements became easier, slicker.

"Yes," he hissed through his teeth as he buried his face into Bella's neck.

He felt her move and, when he looked up, he found that she had pulled the t-shirt that he'd given her up around her neck, exposing the beautiful expanse of her stomach and chest. Like a magnet, Cullen's mouth immediately found her nipple and sucked it hard into his mouth, moaning obscenities as it puckered perfectly against his tongue. Bella curved her body towards him, whimpered his name, and grabbed the back of his head.

He could taste both of their sweat on her skin from their fucking the night before and groaned deeply into her skin. His scent was on her. _Mine._ Goddamn. His fist started flying up and down his cock; chasing the euphoric feeling that was racing through his body and gathering deep in the pit of his stomach.

"Are you going to cum?" Bella gasped as she wrapped her right leg around his waist, holding him tight with the heel of her foot hard against his thigh.

He nodded and snarled against her; his tongue frantic as he devoured her breasts.

"Cum on me, baby," she whispered against his cheek, "I want your cum all over me."

"Oh, holy _fuck_, Bella," Cullen cried as his dick convulsed in his palm. He'd never heard anything so deliciously fucking filthy in his life. _So fucking close_. He jerked harder.

"Ah, ah…" He began to pant as his eyes met hers: dark and filled with lust. "Say it…" he begged. "Jesus, baby, say it…again."

Rubbing her palms over her tits, Bella smiled and eyed his leaking tip hungrily. "I want you to cum on me, Edward."

With a thunderous cry towards the heavens, and one last pull on his cock, Cullen's orgasm hit him like a battering ram, making his spine snap and arch in release. He erupted hard as he thrust his hips; sending streams of his cum across Bella's stomach, all the way up to the underside of her tits as he chanted her name. It was fucking beautiful.

Seeing himself all over her exquisite body, Cullen groaned deep in his chest as a huge bolt of possessiveness shot up his backbone like a freight train.

He'd marked her. _Fuck, yes_.

Grunting, Cullen continued to move his hand up and down his dick, slower with each pass, until he had nothing more left to give.

"Goddamn," he panted as he held himself above her, eying the white pool of his seed that was now gathering perfectly at the top of her belly button. "Goddamn."

He smiled lazily as he heard Bella giggle. "Wow," she said as she looked down at herself. "That was fucking hot."

Cullen opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He coughed a laugh and nodded instead. It was _absolutely_ the hottest thing ever. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he landed at Bella's side with a groan of contentment, releasing his palm from around his semi, and dropped his arms heavily to his sides.

"You okay?" Bella laughed lightly.

"Mmhmm," he answered with closed eyes and a smile. "I'm…you're just…sweet Jesus."

Bella gave a very un-ladylike snort and pushed his shoulder playfully. They both lay in exhausted silence for a moment before Bella cursed and made to move by lifting up onto her forearms.

"What're you doin?" Cullen asked with a soft frown and one eye open.

Bella smiled at him. "I have to go to work." She cursed as she looked at the clock. "I'm late already."

"It's six thirty," Cullen replied incredulously as he saw the time.

"Yeah, I have to be at the facility for eight at the latest," Bella answered as she once again looked down at the remnants of Cullen's orgasm. "I…" She laughed as she gestured towards herself. "I need a shower."

Cullen hummed in agreement. "Yeah," he growled as he leaned closer to her and let his mouth whisper across hers. "You're all dirty."

"Can I borrow your shower?" Bella asked with a smile against Cullen's lips.

"Sure," he replied before raising one insatiable eyebrow. "Can I join you?"

He smiled as he saw the pink on her cheeks turn almost red. "And be even later?" She kissed him softly, "Maybe next time."

The harsh fact that he had been denied sharing Bella's shower was eased by the fact that she had said 'next time.' Cullen tried to ignore the absolute thrill that washed through him at her words, but dammit, it was hard work. His voracious side rejoiced unashamedly.

He watched with a wide grin as Bella shuffled to the side of the bed before she ran, almost naked, and laughing gorgeously, into his en suite bathroom.

=PoF=

To say that Cullen walked into the _Black's_ auto shop two hours later with a smile on his face would have been a gross fucking understatement. The simple fact was he was smiling so fucking wide the back of his head had begun to hurt. Not that he cared. The ache was minute compared to the pleasure that covered every other inch of his body.

_Walking on sunshine, motherfuckers._

He sauntered into Jake's office to find him sitting, looking pensive, while rifling through the papers on his desk.

"What's up, fucker?" Cullen smiled as he hung his leather jacket onto the back of the door.

"Nothin'" Jake answered sharply. "What's up with you?"

"Nothin'" Cullen shrugged and pushed his hand into his jeans pocket while rocking back and forth on his heels. Even after two immense orgasms in the space of eight hours, he still had enough energy inside himself that he could have easily run to New Jersey and back.

Jake looked up at him briefly and instantly did a double take. As he cocked his head to the right, he frowned and narrowed his eyes. "What the fuck?"

_Busted._ Cullen shook his head and widened his eyes innocently. "What?"

Jake dropped the papers he had been holding, and leaned forward with his elbows on his desk. "Either you are high or you just had the fucking of a lifetime, my friend."

Cullen laughed, but didn't answer. Jake smiled and raised his eyebrows as he sat back in his chair. "Come on, man. You've been fucking MIA for the whole weekend. I thought you were dead. What gives?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Jacob," Cullen replied. He winked and walked out of the office back into the shop; towards the coffee maker. He sniggered when he heard Jake scrabbling out of his leather chair after him.

"Bull. Shit," Jake said pointedly as he approached. "The fucking smug ass grin on your ugly face tells me otherwise."

Cullen remained quiet as he poured his coffee.

"Cullen!" Jake bellowed as he punched his shoulder playfully.

"What?" Cullen laughed back.

"Who've ya been fuckin'?"

"Cullen's been fuckin'?" Paul asked as he walked across the shop, with a piece of engine in his hand.

"Holy shit," Cullen exclaimed with a hand through his hair. "What is this?"

"It's the '_Name that pussy show'_," Jake answered sarcastically. "And you're up."

Cullen shook his head. "Why are you so damned interested?"

Jake and Paul looked at one another before turning back to Cullen. "You have been out of Arthur Kill for weeks and only got your dick wet once."

"And that time doesn't really count," Paul interjected with a grin, "Because it was a blow job."

Cullen smiled while Jake laughed. He sipped his coffee with a smile and shrugged again. "No-one you know," he replied finally, feeling his protectiveness of his Peaches itch across his broad shoulders.

Jake and his boys didn't need to know what was going on between him and Bella. Hell, even Cullen wasn't exactly sure what was going on between them. They'd had some amazing sex, but that didn't define what they had shared. Bella had promised that they would talk, before she had left his apartment in a cab. Cullen hadn't been happy about her choice of transportation and had offered to drive, but she had stubbornly declined, using her fuck hot teacher voice to full effect. Cheat.

He glanced down at his watch, already impatient. Eight hours until he saw her again at the library, and six hours until he had a meeting with his cousin. _Motherfucker._

Seemingly aggravated by Cullen's silence and thankfully losing interest as quickly as he was known to do, Jake scoffed in irritation, rolled his eyes and stormed back into the office, calling for Paul as he went.

Paul glanced at Cullen and grimaced, all joking and playfulness gone. "Receipt day," he muttered and scurried after his boss.

Cullen felt his fist clench around his cup. Fucking Aro and his debt. What he wouldn't give to wipe the smarmy, blackmailing look off of that fucker's face. The annoying thing was, Cullen had - on paper - enough money that he could clear Jake's debt to Aro a hundred times over, but the fucker had his fingers in a lot of fucking pies.

He had access to Jake's accounts and the account's for the business, and had made it crystal clear with his melon head crony, Marcus and a Glock that, should Jake give him money that wasn't his, the debt would be the least of his problems. Cullen was sure there was some way around it, but every time he offered Jake help he was refused. Cullen rubbed a hand down his face.

All for a goddamn woman.

That thought made him stop cold. His stomach flipped and he swallowed hard as a tension filled his entire body. _Peaches_. The bubbling deep in his core began again in earnest, and Cullen leaned his shoulder against the wall in an effort to keep his emotions, and the words that were attached to them, at bay.

Were the feelings he had for Bella, like the ones Jake felt for Vanessa? _Fuck. _

He looked through the office window to see Jake waving an envelope sternly at Paul. Cullen sighed, resigned. He knew for a fact that, if the tables were turned, and _he_ was the one in Jake's position, he would be sat doing the exact same thing. Even if he was still petrified about naming the emotions that he was feeling for Bella, Cullen knew he'd do anything he could for his Peaches; to protect her, have her safe and with him.

Turning from the office window, and with another quick glance at his watch, Cullen walked back into the main room of the shop and headed determinedly to the first car that needed his attention.

=PoF=

The lobby of WCS Communications was just how Cullen remembered it: pretentious, repugnant and reeking of money. The high walls and floor were covered in dark mahogany, and the furniture looked so uncomfortable it looked like the shit had been stolen from a goddamn torture chamber. Cullen scoffed at the irony of that particular thought. The fact that he was in the fucking building at all was torturous in itself. Fuck's sake he felt like he was about to crawl out of his goddamn skin.

He wished that Peaches was with him. _Pussy._

With a deep breath, he walked towards the red-haired woman at the reception desk, hating the loud sound of his steps on the shining wood floor, and waited as patiently as he could for her to finish her call. She did, quickly, and looked him over appreciatively before asking if she could help him.

"Yeah, I have a two o'clock with Peter," he grumbled as he rubbed his hand through his hair.

"Mr. Whitlock," the red-head corrected in a patronising tone.

Cullen narrowed his eyes at the hag.

"What?"

"Mr. Whitlock," she repeated. "You have a two o'clock with Mr. Whitlock." The smile that followed was so condescending that Cullen was momentarily rendered speechless.

Regardless of the fact that, technically, the bitch worked for _him_, today was not the day to be correcting his ass.

"What the fuck ever," he snapped. "Just do your job and tell the prick that Cullen's here will you?"

The sound of the bitch's mouth popping open echoed around the large room, and Cullen had a hard time holding back his smirk.

"Thanks, Sweet Cheeks," he said with a sardonic smile as he turned towards the heinous cream sofa that was situated ten feet from the desk, and slammed down onto it in irritation.

He adjusted himself to try and get comfortable, but the fucking cushions were about as cosy as having glass up his ass, while simultaneously being the same size as a goddamn postage stamp.

The whole place seemed to have been constructed just to make its occupants feel uneasy, and it was working. No wonder the receptionist was so fucking uptight.

Cullen glanced around himself and noticed a small, glass ashtray on the table next to him. Fuck, at least the cocksuckers had gotten one thing right. He reached into the pocket of his jeans - he hadn't dressed up for the occasion. Plaid and denim worked just fine for him - and pulled out his cigarettes. He quickly lit it with his flick lighter, and sucked back on the heavenly smoke. He at once felt a million times better; calmer, more comfortable.

As he lifted the cig to his mouth again, his attention was caught by the horrendous, fish like expression that laced the receptionist's face. If he hadn't been so annoyed by her initial attitude Cullen would have laughed out loud.

"What?" he asked sharply as she stared.

"You can't smoke in here," she replied with an unbelieving blink.

Cullen frowned as he looked down at the ashtray. He pointed at it with his cigarette between his fingers. "Then why the fuck do you have one of these?"

"It's a _bowl_," she stated impatiently.

Cullen looked between her and the object in question. "Really?" he asked with a smirk. "This is a bowl?"

The bitch sighed, seemingly un-amused and crossed her arms over her chest. Cullen kept his eyes on hers as he took another long ass drag from his nasty, unwelcome smoke and blew the result in her direction. Even with there being ten feet between the two of them, the woman still sat back in disgust. Cullen scoffed and shook his head.

"My apologies," he sneered as he extinguished the cigarette into the 'bowl'.

"Edward."

Cullen's neck was suddenly covered in raised hairs and his lip lifted into an animalistic snarl as his cousin's voice sounded from across the room. Fucker knew that he hated his given name, but he still insisted on using it frequently whenever they were in each other's company.

Cullen looked up and glared at Peter in such a way that the asshole took a step back. _That's right, bitch. Back. The. Fuck. Up._

"We're ready for you," Peter said, his poker face back in full play after his slip up.

"Great," Cullen deadpanned.

He stood from his seat and picked up the bowl that contained his deceased smoke. He placed it in front of the red-head and smiled as charmingly as he could.

"Take care of that for me." The look on her face was priceless as he winked at her. "Thanks, _Pumpkin_."

Ignoring Peter clearing his throat at his inappropriate behaviour, Cullen followed him into his office and immediately tried not to vomit at the elaborate artwork on the walls, the ostentatious desk and the ridiculously incredible view over the rest of the Financial District.

Fucker was totally compensating for something.

Cullen smiled to himself. The fact that the asshole had a Mets mug by his computer sealed the deal for Cullen. Peter was definitely a prick.

There were three other men standing in the room, and Cullen immediately felt his body curl in defensively. Jasper, who nodded cordially at Cullen as he entered, he obviously recognised, but the other two he had never met before, and that shit was unexpected and unnerving. Fucking Peter had done that shit on purpose.

"Take a seat," Peter said calmly, gesturing to the high backed leather seat situated by the humongous desk.

"Whatever," Cullen mumbled as he sat down ungracefully, placing his right ankle onto his left knee. He blew a breath out from between his lips and tapped his fingertips against his thighs.

"So," he drawled as he glanced around the room. "Who the fuck are you?" He pointed to the suits, standing by the window.

"This is Steve Fields, WCS's lead attorney, and David Cross," Peter answered quickly. "He's head of accounting and finance."

Cullen nodded. "S'up, Dave?" Cullen couldn't help but smile when he got no response. "I'm Cullen." He pointed to his own chest, "Your boss."

Peter coughed in blatant discomfort. "Well, actually, Edwar-…"

"Save the _'Edward'_ shit, Pete," Cullen barked, losing his patience. "Just explain to me why the hell I'm here so that I can leave as soon as humanly possible. There's only so much pretension and dick sucking I can handle."

Cullen noticed in his periphery the smirk that etched Jasper's mouth as he continued to glare at Peter. Peter stared back, anger flaring in his eyes, but, to his credit, he remained calm.

"Fine," he replied firmly. "You're here so that we can discuss the immediate dissolution of you shares in WCS Communications."

_Well, fuck._

"Is that right?" Cullen asked with a backward tilt of his head. Peter raised his eyebrows in reply and walked around his desk to take his leather and wood throne.

"And just how do you think that shit's gonna fly, Peter?" Cullen continued wit a wry smile. "The shares are in _my_ name. They were given to me by _our_ grandmother. The contract is legally binding on a scale that even your pathetic excuse for a law team can't change it. Granddaddy tried to dissolve it for years. It ain't gonna happen."

Peter looked at Steve and David and the two men sat down at Cullen's right. Jasper remained standing to his left. Cullen recognised the situation. He'd seen it many times in prison _and_ on the shadier streets of Brooklyn. They were using blatant intimidation tactics. Cullen was being cornered, and he didn't like it. Not. One. Bit.

He inhaled deeply through his nose and tried to keep calm.

"That's why you're here," Peter smiled tightly. "So we can discuss the contract and what it will take for you to...relinquish your position as share holder."

Cullen smirked. "You mean, you wanna discuss how much it's gonna cost you assholes to get rid of me, right? Can't have an ex-con owning a billion dollar company now, can we? What _would_ the papers say?"

Peter ignored Cullen's sarcasm and simply opened and closed his hands on top of his desk.

Cullen shook his head while he laughed without humour, and turned to look out of the window. "It must really bug the shit out of you that I have the biggest share holding in the company that you were primed to take over, huh?"

"Not as much as it must bug the shit out of you that we have control over your money every month."

Cullen's head snapped back to Peter whose face was now pinched and hard.

_Game on, motherfucker._

Peter sat forward. "I'd bear _that_ in mind before you start with your sanctimonious bullshit, _Cullen_. I kept your ass out of prison; I can sure as hell get it back in there."

Cullen felt his body become very still as a dangerous calm washed over him, "You threatening me?"

"No," Peter replied, "Just reminding you that you're not the only one with a set of cards to play."

Cullen paused for a considerable amount of time before he continued in a low, even voice. "The money that I receive, I have every right to claim. It's mine. In fact, I should get more-…" 

"You would, if you didn't have a criminal record."

Cullen hid the flinch of rage that pricked at his spine as Peter interrupted him. In truth, Cullen couldn't have given two shits about the money or how much he received. He never had. What he cared more about was the fact that he was the rightful owner of the shares that Peter spoke of, and he would be fucking damned if his dickhead cousin thought he could be bullied into giving them up. Principle was a lot more valuable than the millions of dollars that he was rightfully entitled to.

The game of stare out between Cullen and Peter was broken by Jasper, who placed a document that looked like a contract in front of Cullen.

"You haven't brought any legal representation," Jasper said pointedly. "It would be better if-…"

"I can fucking read, Jasper. Just explain what it says and cut to the chase," Cullen barked making his cousin flinch. "My lawyer can…peruse that shit at his leisure."

Jasper adjusted his tie and exhaled down his nose. "Upon dissolution of your current shares the money that you receive monthly would be tripled. For life," he said gently, "As well as a lump sum of twenty million-…"

Cullen snorted in derision, "Twenty million? Are you _shitting_ me?"

He looked incredulously from Jasper to Peter and back again. Both men remained silent. Cullen rubbed his face in disbelief, aching for a fucking smoke.

"We all know that the shares I own are in excess of five hundred million," he scoffed. "I was expecting to be impressed with your offer not fucking insulted." Cullen pushed the contract across Peter's desk and slammed back in his seat. "Try again, Whitlock."

Peter visibly bristled and took a deep breath that made his shoulders lift. "For someone who claims to not give a shit about the business," he all but hissed. "You sure seem to be protective and knowledgeable about it all."

"Peter," Cullen fumed. "There is a huge fucking difference between not giving a shit, and not appreciating being handled and played by an asshole who thinks he's God's gift because he wears an expensive fucking suit. I went to prison, not fucking dunce school. Your offer is shit. You know it. I know it. So, like I said, try again."

The silence was deafening. All eyes were on Peter, but he remained stoic. _His_ eyes, however, gave away the fact that his brain was going a million miles an hour. Even though the label on his desk read CEO, Peter was an attorney through and through, and Cullen knew that his cousin's mind was quickly working out all the ways in which he could manipulate the situation to get what he wanted.

"Fine," Peter murmured eventually. "I will get my law team and finance team to re-evaluate the contract and we'll get back to you."

"Can't wait," Cullen retorted. "May I be excused, _Sir_?" he asked sardonically with his hands on the arms of his chair.

Peter didn't answer but dipped his chin minutely, his eyes fierce and angry.

"Thank fuck," Cullen grumbled. "I have an Literature session to get to."

As Cullen stood he noticed both of his cousins' react instantly to his words. Jasper, who was still standing to Cullen's left, shifted on his feet nervously, while Peter rubbed his palms together quickly.

"Oh yes," Peter said as Cullen began walking across the office. "How _is_ Isabella?"

Cullen froze with his hand on the door, and gripped the cold steel in his fist. _There it is._ It wasn't the question that had made him stop - Fucker called her Isabella. How well could he fucking know her? It was Peter's tone.

Cullen ground his teeth as the question, and the silent message within it, hung around the room like a bad fucking smell. It was, to anyone who didn't know better, a simple, polite question. To Cullen, on the other hand, the question reeked of a possessiveness that no motherfucker but him, had _any_ right to feel.

Cullen remembered what Bella had said about Peter. She had told him that she and Peter had 'met', but it was clear from Peter's inflection that there was a lot more to it than that. Cullen's heart pinched.

He turned slowly, trying to keep his expression as neutral as he possibly could. Still, as soon as his eyes met Peter's, Cullen knew that he was on thin fucking ice. Asshole knew. What the fuck that was exactly wasn't clear, but the shit head knew something about him and Peaches.

_Alice._

Cullen's eyes darted to Jasper who was now apparently fascinated with his faggoty ass shoes. _Coward._

Cullen took a breath and clenched his fists tightly. "_Isabella_," he replied through an almost closed throat, "Is just fine."

Peter smiled and Cullen was instantly reminded of a snake ready to strike. "Oh good," he said with a little too much enthusiasm. "I was hoping that she was."

"Were you?" Cullen seethed. He could feel his right eye twitching.

"Yeah," Peter replied as he stood from his seat and moved around his desk. "I knew she had family to see so I haven't heard from her for a week or so, and I haven't seen her since she came to my house for dinner."

Cullen swallowed and bit his tongue so hard he was sure he could taste blood, "Dinner?"

It was then that Cullen noticed the absence of Peter's wedding ring. _Motherfuckingsonofabitch_.

"What?" Peter asked even though the expression on his face told Cullen that he had heard him perfectly well. "Oh yeah," he continued. "She came over for dinner. I cooked. We had a good time."

He rubbed his lips slowly and purposefully with his thumb and smiled. The cunt fucking _smiled_.

"She's a great girl," he added. "Beautiful too, but I guess…you know that."

Cullen could taste the ferocious violence that was building within him, and realised quickly that his body was leaning heavily against the door in an attempt to keep him self upright as the adrenaline coursed through his veins.

Peter and Bella had had dinner together? She'd been with him. At his fucking house. Did that mean that they'd…?

Cullen felt bile rise to his throat as a searing pain lanced his chest.

Peter, pretending to be oblivious to the rage before him, continued: "I was hoping that she and I could do it again, you know, go on another date, but I understand that she has her hands full with her…" Peter gestured with his palm towards Cullen, and grinned, "_Students_."

It was then that it suddenly struck Cullen like a fucking dumbbell.

Through the furious red haze that surrounded him, Cullen could see that the son of a bitch was goading him; taunting him, like a kid with a stick through the bars of the lion's den, waiting for the inevitable snap, wanting him to lash out and play right into his greedy fucking hands.

Sure enough, the rope that Cullen was holding onto within himself was thinning rapidly, and he wanted nothing more than to grab the fucker by his neck, rip off his balls with his bare hands, and throw him out of his own bitch ass office window.

But then, where would that leave him? Where would that leave Bella? His ass would be sent back to prison quicker than he could say, 'fuck you, Whitlock'. Parole would be a thing of the past. _He and Bella _would be a thing of the past. _Christ._ He couldn't lose his Peaches to him. Over his _own_ dead body. He wouldn't.

No. Fucking. Way.

With Herculean effort, and with the image of his Bella the night before, writhing and begging for him as _he_ fucked her in _his_ bed, Cullen stood from the wall and took a huge breath.

Peter watched his every move: still waiting; hoping.

Cullen could feel his hands shaking and ran them through his hair in an effort to hide it. "Well, Peter," he muttered through clenched teeth as he kept his eyes on the floor. "I'll be sure to let _Isabella_ know that you were asking about her."

Peter looked instantly perplexed and a whole lot disappointed as Cullen calmly turned back towards the door.

"But I wouldn't hold your breath for that phone call," Cullen added as he glared over his shoulder at his cousin.

"Oh really," Peter spat, no longer hiding the aggressive jealousy in his voice. "And why's that,_ Edward_?"

"Well, as you pointed out, she is busy with her students and, it has to be said, with me," he glanced down at his own crotch before looking back at Peter with a smug ass grin on his face. "Her hands are always fucking full."

Without waiting for a response, Cullen yanked the office door open so hard that the hinges groaned in protest.

The inevitable slam behind him was all that Cullen heard as he stormed through the lobby, past the red-haired bitch at her desk, while lighting a cigarette and flipping a finger at the 'No Smoking' sign above the WCS exit.

**Holy Peter/PAW throw down, Batman!**

**The gauntlet has been thrown. Who will make the next move? And what the hell will PAW say to Peaches when he sees her? *EEK***

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	28. Chapter 28

**Greetings! Hope you are all well and that you're not all frozen or snowed in! I'll send Oreos and PAW to anyone who needs nourishment or warming up!**

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**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 27: ****Owned**

"_Love isn't finding a perfect person. It's seeing an imperfect person perfectly." _**Sam Keen**

**18**** years ago… **

"_Isabella, if you press your face any harder against that window, you're going to pass __straight through it."_

_Isabella's head spun around to see her mother smiling from the doorway of the sitting room, "Really?"_

_Renee rolled her eyes at her seven year old daughter, and laughed lightly. "No, not really. Just be careful. I don't want Wendy to have to clean your paw prints off of the glass again."_

"_Okay, Mommy," Isabella answered with her lip between her teeth as she noticed her smeared finger marks all over the window in question. She huffed impatiently as she looked back out towards the empty driveway. "When will Daddy be home?"_

_Renee walked over to the love seat and sat down next to Isabella, pushing her daughter's hair behind her small ear. She looked so like Charlie._

"_His flight was delayed, darling," she soothed. Charlie had been gone for a week, on a political tour, and both she and Isabella had missed him terribly. "He should be here-"_

"_DADDY!"_

_Renee almost jumped out of her skin as Isabella squealed and bounced up from the love seat like a damned Jack-in-a-box. Her little body blasted across the room towards the hallway and Renee couldn't help but smile when she heard her tiny shoes skid frantically on the hard wood flooring on her way to the front door._

_Renee turned and looked out of the window that Isabella had been staring out of for the past two hours. Sure enough, a black sedan was pulling up the stone driveway and Renee immediately felt her heart stutter erratically in her chest. Even after being married to Charlie Swan for ten years, the excitement at seeing him after an absence was nothing short of overwhelming._

_The sensation increased as she watched Billy open the back passenger door, allowing Charlie to get out, and she laughed into her hands as Isabella leapt furiously into his outstretched arms. Even though there were bricks and mortar separating them, Renee could hear Isabella's high pitched laughter as Charlie lathered her face with loud kisses, and tickled her ribs relentlessly._

_Seeing her husband and daughter together was Renee's favourite thing in the whole world. They were so alike and so infatuated with each other that it was impossible not to watch them as they chattered and existed within their own private bubble. On the rare occasions that the three of them would sit and watch the TV or a movie together, Renee would happily miss out on what was taking place on the screen, insisting instead on watching the two loves of her life as they cuddled and giggled together. They laughed and found fun in the same things and adored and enthused in the same free spirited way that was nothing short inspiring._

_Together they were Renee's heart and soul, and__, as such, Renee knew that it would be utterly impossible for her to survive without either of them._

_Trying to rein in her own excitement, Renee lifted from her seat and made her way through the house to the front door that Isabella had left wide open__ in her haste to get to her father. Renee smiled coyly and felt her cheeks burn when Charlie looked at her over Isabella's head and winked. It was the exact same thing that he had done when they had first met at college, and it still had the same effect on her: Renee was instantly hot and bothered. _

_Back then, she had been the popular, rich girl and he had been the bad ass, smart mouth on a much debated, much questioned scholarship.__ She had been enthralled by his no shit, against the system, demeanour and, even though her father had told her to stay away from him, Renee had found her attraction to Charlie was as undeniable as it was terrifying. He was, in the eyes of her father, the wrong choice for her, no good, bad news, but she had fought for what she wanted, and won._

_As much as Isabella was like__ Charlie, Renee knew without doubt that Isabella had inherited her tenacity and fire. She was sure that fact would come back to bite herself and Charlie on the ass someday._

_With Isabella still in his arms; rubbing at his moustache with her minute index finger, Charlie walked towards Renee and stopped just inches from her._

"_Hello, Beautiful," he murmured as his eyes wandered over her, setting her skin on fire. _

"_Hello," she replied while fighting a ridiculously girly smile. God, it was so good to see him._

_He leaned closer to her and only stopped when their lips were merely centimetres apart. His breath was perfect in its warmth and familiarity as it blew across her face._

"_I missed you," he whispered. "I missed you so much."_

_Renee closed her eyes at the tenor of his voice, and let her hand rest on his chest next to Isabella. She smiled at the beat of his heart as it travelled fast and strong through to her palm._

"_I missed you too," she replied__ while leaning her forehead to his._

"_Daddy, can I show you now?" Isabella asked as she poked her finger at his nose, dissolving the intimate moment at once. _

_Renee laughed and stood back, giving Charlie a look that told him that she knew how much he needed her and that their time together would come.__ The bed had been so cold and lonely without him._

"_Isabella," she said to her daughter as she rubbed a hand down her back. "Your father needs to get changed and washed up first."_

"_It's alright," Charlie said, his eyes never leaving his wife's. "I _did_ promise."_

"_Yes, you did. You promised on the phone," Isabella countered garnering another round of tickles from her father._

_And so, with a laughing seven year old in his arms, Charlie wandered into the house and straight up the stairs to Isabella's bedroom where he would sit for two hours while his precious daughter showed him all the new dolls and the doll's house that Nana Boo had given to her as an early Christmas present._

_It was after nine o'clock that evening, when Isabella was tucked up safely in bed, and all the staff had gone home that Charlie finally entered the bedroom to find his wife waiting for him. Renee was sitting against the pillows, reading, and she at once felt every part of her body become alert when she looked up to see her Charlie staring back at her._

"_Hey," she said with a smile as she placed her book down on the side table._

"_Hey," he replied quietly as he walked slowly towards the bed._

_Renee swallowed as he approached, "Did you ge-…?"_

"_Shh," Charlie interrupted with a finger to his lips. Renee bit her own lip and sat back. "Don't speak," Charlie added softly. Her let the back of his index finger trail down the side of her face. "Just let me look at you."_

_Renee could do nothing but what he had asked, lost completely in the tenderness of his touch and the passion in his eyes._

"_You're even more beautiful now than the first day I ever saw you," he murmured. "Do you remember?"_

_Renee nodded: mute._

_Of course she remembered. He had been the most exquisite creature she had ever seen. He had been wearing a brown leather jacket and had driven a Harley onto the college campus. All the girls __had thought he was incredible, and the whispers of his criminal past and working class background had only added to the intrigue._

_Renee had found out within months that the rumours of his doing 'serious time' were seriously exaggerated. Charlie Swan had been arrested a number of times, all for small public offences: criminal damage, graffiti, and for being drunk and disorderly, and were, in part, caused by his reaction to his father's abandonment and the absolute boredom that came from being the smartest boy at school who would - so the teachers said - never amount to anything._

_If only they could see him now, Renee thought: the youngest state Senator in sixty-two years._

_Charlie Swan's ambition and need to help those less fortunate was documented by the media as being 'the biggest political breath of fresh air in decades.' Sure, many political critics and opposing runners had had a field day when his previous run ins with the law were splashed unashamedly across the broadsheets, but Renee had stood firmly at his side through all of it, determined to be the support and strength she knew her husband had needed - no matter what her father would have thought._

_It was during that time that she had fallen pregnant with Isabella. "A light in the dark," Charlie had whispered to her when she had told him that he was going to be a father. He had been ecstatic._

"_Where are you?" Charlie smiled as he looked down at her from his position at the edge of the bed. _

_Renee reappeared from her trip down memory lane and smiled back at him. "I'm right here," she answered while holding his palm to her face, "Where I belong."_

"_I love you," Charlie uttered fervently. "Do you know how much I love you, Renee?"_

"_Yes," she answered without hesitation. "But…"_

_Charlie frowned, "But what, Beautiful?"_

_Renee shuffled down onto her back and held her arms open to him. "But I need you to show me."_

_Charlie's face lit up at her words and, without missing a beat, he laid himself over his wife, kissing her with all the passion he could muster._

_Yes, Renee thought as they slowly moved together, I know how much you love me, because I love you just as much._

=PoF=

Isabella reached with a dripping hand for the large black towel that was hanging on the outside of the shower door, and laid it down on the marble so that she didn't end up, ass over tit, onto Cullen's bathroom floor.

Newly showered, and smelling of the copious amounts of Cullen's shower gel that she had used, she stepped out gingerly, and began to dry herself. As she brushed the fabric over her body, Isabella couldn't help but notice how different her skin felt. Each rub of the towel felt hot, as though every inch of her anatomy was on fire. Her entire being fizzed and crackled with an energy that she was becoming more and more familiar with, and her limbs felt loose and spongy.

Gently, and with a small smile, Isabella dried her more intimate parts that were - as Cullen had discovered as he touched her only twenty minutes before - deliciously tender.

It wasn't that he had been purposefully rough with her - Isabella had loved it when he had practically begged to fuck her - it was simply because she hadn't slept with anyone for a long time. Yes, that, and the fact that Cullen was _extremely_ well endowed. Isabella felt her nipples tighten. Good God, poems and songs should be written in celebration of it. She snorted into her hand at the thought. _An Ode to Cullen's Cock…_

She hadn't been lying when she had told him that he filled her. He had. He did. He filled her in a way that she had never _ever_ experienced. And it wasn't just because he was large. No, it was so much more than that. It was the sense of utter completion that overtook her body and soul as he pushed himself inside of her that had taken her breath away. Isabella had not realised, until that very moment, just how empty and lacking she had actually been.

_You complete me._ Isabella smirked at the thought. Who the hell knew that clichés existed beyond the written word?

She looked at her naked body in the large mirror that was situated next to the sink as she dried her stomach, and thought back to the perfect moment when Cullen had finally slid into her.

He had been slow, so gentle, and so adoring with her. Watching him practically worship her body from her feet to her mouth was incredible. He was patient and looked entirely lost in his own world as he touched her. When he had finally entered her, however, the expression on his face had been sublime, beautiful and became etched with a desperation that she knew only too well. She had been desperate for him. She had been desperate for him for _so_ long.

The moment had been powerful and euphoric, and Isabella knew that she could not live another day without experiencing it all over again. At first, Cullen had taken his time, moving agonisingly slowly inside of her while whispering kisses and caresses all over her skin. Surely, that was what making love felt like? And if not, then it damn well should. He had felt perfect, as they continued to move together: masculine, strong and passionate, and, consequently, Isabella could no longer deny the large space that Cullen was now taking up within her heart.

She rubbed her palm between her breasts, across the area where he resided, and sighed contentedly.

Isabella had never been in love before. Hell, she wasn't entirely sure whether or not she was in love now, but the feelings that she had for Cullen could not be ignored. It was fire, passion, lust, desire and it made every nerve ending in her body pulse and sing. These were not normal, everyday feelings. These were strong and intense and, realistically, the magnitude of them should have terrified her. Christ knew, the dangers that her feelings could bring to both of them would be swift and decisive, but still, all she could think about was the fact that, every time she was near him, touched him, kissed him, she felt more alive than she had done in sixteen years.

Had she really just been existing for all that time?

Isabella ran her fingers across her dry stomach and closed her eyes as the image of Cullen coming all over her pounded seductively through her brain. She couldn't quite believe that she had said the words to him, but, as she watched his reaction to them, and saw the pure feral need in his eyes, she knew that she had to have his mark on her. He owned her. Every part of her. And she wanted him to see it.

_You have me. I am yours._

And he had. And it had taken Isabella's breath away. Never had she seen anything as beautiful as Cullen was as he chased and finally found his orgasm.

The tension that she saw in his sculptured jaw as he gritted his teeth and panted her name while his hand flew from the tip of his cock to the base. The tight, almost painful, grip that he had on her waist that increased with each movement. The growls that rumbled through his chest and the veins in his neck that stretched and corded as the pressure inside him grew even more. The way that his jaw suddenly became slack while his eyes rolled back into his head and the animalistic roar that erupted as he covered her with his glorious cum; were all images, sensations, and sounds that would stay with Isabella forever.

He was magnificent.

He was _hers_.

"Peaches?" a small knock came at the bathroom door.

Isabella cleared her throat and felt her cheeks flush at the sound of Cullen's voice, "Yeah?"

"I've put your clothes on the bed. They're dry."

Isabella smiled at the thought of Cullen doing something so ordinary, like drying clothes. He was so incredibly extraordinary that the image just didn't fit.

"Okay, thank you," she called back as she wrapped the towel around herself.

She picked up the toothpaste tube from the side of the sink and pushed some onto her finger which she then rubbed inelegantly across her teeth and her tongue. God knows what she had smelled like when Cullen had kissed her. She smiled. He hadn't seemed to mind. Besides, he had smelled wonderful: smoky, tangy and inherently Cullen.

_Edward._

Isabella padded back into the bedroom to find it empty with the door closed. She began by putting her bra back on and then scoured the room for her panties. She was fairly sure that she had dropped them by the side of the bed, but, even after ten minutes of searching, she still couldn't find them. Unperturbed, and aware that time was not on her side, she pulled on her jeans, socks, t-shirt and boots, used Cullen's cell to call a cab, and walked out into the apartment to find Cullen, still in his grey sweats, standing casually by the breakfast bar, nursing a cup of coffee.

He slid another cup in her direction as she approached.

"Milk and sugar," he said with a smile. "Just how I know you like it."

"Thank you," Isabella smirked as she lifted it to her lips and took a long sip. Perfect.

She glanced at Cullen over the rim of the cup and felt her insides warm. His hair was in its usual disarray, but with a huge helping of fucking thrown into the style. His face was covered in at least three days worth of scruff, and his scent hummed with heat and sex and….Isabella.

Oh God, she could smell herself on him. _Fucking. Hot. _She'd marked him like he had marked her. Isabella's expression, as she placed her half empty cup down onto the granite, must have said it all as Cullen smiled and dropped his hypnotic gaze to her mouth.

"You, um…you sure you don't wanna play hooky with me today?" he asked in a low voice that spoke only to Isabella's more insatiable parts while his index finger wandered seductively around the edge of his own cup. If she had been wearing any panties at all, Isabella was pretty sure that they would have been back around her ankles in two seconds flat.

She pulled her eyes from his fantastically broad chest and looked down at her hands. "I can't," she whispered regretfully. "I have to go."

Cullen nodded; all traces of teasing gone. "I know, Bella." He frowned slightly. "I have _stuff_ to do today. I was only half serious."

Isabella's eyes met his again quickly. "But I'll see you at the library for our session, right?" There was something in her voice that was completely alien to her. It was uneasy, panicked almost…needy?

"Of course," he replied quickly as he walked around the bar towards her. He slowly moved his hand under the hair at the back of her neck, and squeezed gently. "I wouldn't miss it." He smiled as he stroked her skin. "I _have_ to be there." He tried to look inconvenienced before adding jokingly, "Court's orders."

The sensation of Cullen's hands touching her, in any capacity, was indescribable. Isabella felt perfectly safe with him all the time. Never, not even when he was at his most ferocious in Arthur Kill, had she feared him or believed that he would cause her harm. However, when he touched her, she felt so protected, Isabella was damn near invincible. Of course it made so much more sense after she had learned about who Cullen was. He was the boy who had rescued her; pulled her into his arms and away from an almost certain death. He was her saviour. He was there for her then, and he was still there for her now, even when she had behaved so terribly.

Her palm instantly cupped the cheek that she had struck, and he automatically leaned into it with a serene look on his beautiful face. Isabella sucked in a breath.

_I love you._

"Hey," Cullen whispered as he looked down at her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered as her thumb trailed across his bottom lip while she swallowed the words that were frantic to get from her heart to his.

"You're sure?" he asked with concerned eyes that suddenly flittered from her face to her crotch. "I…_fuck_…I didn't hurt you…too bad, did I?"

Isabella felt her cheeks heat as she released Cullen's face, looked down at his bare feet, and laughed.

"No, no," she insisted with a dismissive wave of her hands. "I'm honestly okay…_there_. It's um…it's just…it's been a while."

She clenched her eyes tightly shut and pushed her hair back behind her ears wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Unfortunately, it didn't. Instead, Cullen's fingers moved under her chin and lifted her face back up to his. His eyes were dark and hungry, and made Isabella whimper deep in the back of her throat.

"Bella, do you know how much I fucking love that," he murmured as he stepped closer to her, "The fact that it's…been a while? That shit is…" He paused seemingly searching for the right words. He licked his lips. "Good."

"Yeah?" Isabella croaked.

Cullen nodded and widened his eyes slightly, "Oh yeah." He pushed his fingers through the belt loops on her jeans and pulled Isabella, hips first, against him.

"And I don't give a shit if it makes me an asshole," he said resolutely as he pushed his nose to her cheek, moving up to her temple, taking a huge breath of her.

"Fuck, you smell like me," he groaned into her skin. "That is so fucking sexy, Peaches."

She could feel just how sexy he thought it was as he pushed every inch of it against her stomach. He was _really_ hard. _Fuck._ She wanted him again. Inside her. All around her.

Isabella gasped as their lips met: frantic and wet. Cullen's tongue slid aggressively against hers, making her moan and arch closer to him. His hands moved from her jeans and he wound one arm around her shoulders and one around her waist, cradling her to him as he devoured her mouth. Isabella's hands were everywhere and nowhere at once. One moment they were in his hair, gripping and pulling, and the next they were on his shoulders doing the exact same thing.

She grunted when the small of her back hit the breakfast bar.

"Cullen," she panted against his lips.

"Mmm," he replied as his mouth began to travel hungrily down her neck.

"We have to stop." He grabbed her ass. "I…_ah_…we have to…talk." He ground against her. "My cab will be here."

She felt his shoulders drop minutely under her palms and, after placing a lingering kiss at the base of her throat, he lifted his head to look down at her. His eyes swam with lust. He was gorgeous.

"You ordered a cab?" he asked with an annoyance in his voice that completely contradicted the needful grip he had on her waist. "_I_ could have fuckin' driven you home, Peaches."

"I'll be fine," Isabella replied, still feeling a little breathless. "I'm a big girl."

Cullen's lips twitched with the makings of a smile as the intercom on the wall by the door buzzed.

"Shit," he muttered with a hand through his hair before he released her and walked over to it, snapping an aggravated, 'Yeah?'

"_Cab for Miss Swan.__" _

Isabella felt her stomach twist uneasily. The sensation felt oddly like longing.

Cullen practically glared at the disembodied voice as it squawked from the silver box. "One sec," Cullen retorted icily as he placed a hand on his bare hip. "She's on her way."

Patting herself down for her wallet and keys, Isabella walked towards Cullen and the front door that he was busy unlocking. He slid back the deadbolt with a loud exhalation, and rested his hand on the handle. His jaw was tense and his eyes were lowered to the door jamb.

"I really _could_ have driven you," he muttered petulantly. "I don't like that you're getting a cab."

Isabella smirked a little at his adorable pout and stepped towards him. "And I don't like being told what to do," she countered firmly. Her words, tone, and proximity made him look up. His face had lost its uptight edge and was now filled with playfulness. His eyes shone and his mouth turned up sexily at the left side.

"Yeah, you do," he growled. All three words dripped with innuendo and he punctuated the statement with a slow wink that made Isabella's pussy purr. She grinned up at him and moved closer.

"Thank you," she whispered as her fingertips brushed the warm centre of his chest, "For being there...for telling me and for...last night...this morning, for everything. It was..." She blew a quiet breath from between her lips completely without words. She shivered when Cullen's hand slid gently along her collarbone.

"Yeah, it was," he smiled back.

His hand moved back up to her face and his palm rested gently against her jaw. They looked at each other: silently communicating their feelings about what had happened between them: joy, lust, yearning, happiness, and, in Isabella's case, love. Isabella's heart stammered as Cullen's stare burned into her. She could see the passion in the dark green of his irises and could feel the electricity in his touch.

"Come here," he murmured, before he pulled her in gently for another kiss.

This kiss was languid and patient, but still, every second of it made Isabella want him more and made the prospect of work a severely unwelcome one. His lips were so soft and so full of promise that she considered - just for a split second - whether she really could phone in sick. No. As good as it sounded in theory; it _wasn't_ a good idea at all.

It was a dangerous, slippery slope that the she and Cullen were already on, and Isabella knew she had to protect the two of them, and what they had, as much as she could. She had to. He was far _too_ important, too special, for her to start behaving recklessly.

Squeezing his large forearms in her palms, Isabella pulled her mouth from his and leaned her forehead against his chin, humming in pleasure.

"I could kiss you..._fuck_...I could kiss you forever," Cullen muttered. He moved his head back, his face entirely serious. "Can you leave your mouth with me while you're at work? Fuckers there won't mind. In fact," he smirked. "They'd probably be grateful."

Isabella giggled lightly and shoved hard at his chest. "Yeah, I just bet they would."

While laughing, Cullen grabbed her wrists and pulled them tightly against him. "Alright, alright, I'm kidding. No need to get violent and shit."

"Yeah, yeah," Isabella smiled and rolled her eyes.

Cullen sighed and licked his lips. "I'll see you later," he murmured as he dipped his knees so that he was eye-level with her.

"You will."

"And you're right," he said softly as he stood back to his full height. He fingered the tip of the hair that was resting on her shoulder. "We _do_ need to talk."

Isabella nodded. This she knew. No matter how much they craved one another, the truth was that they had to discuss what exactly was to happen from that point on. Things had changed drastically between them, emotions were involved and, sooner or later, they would have to be aired. Isabella bit her lip at the thought.

"Later," she offered.

Cullen nodded back. "Later," he repeated.

Reaching on her tip toes to place a gentle kiss at the side of his mouth, Isabella pulled herself out of Cullen's apartment door and skipped down the stairs to her cab, smiling the entire way.

=PoF=

"Miss S!" Emmett bellowed as he barrelled into Isabella's classroom.

Before she could answer or before the guard at his side could react, Emmett dragged Isabella into his arms and lifted her to him, squeezing her hard. She couldn't help but squeal as the air left her lungs.

"I missed your ass!" Emmett cried as he rocked from side to side.

Isabella laughed and eyed the guard in a way that made him take a step back from tackling Emmett to the floor. Not that the skinny bastard would have stood a chance against McCarty. In fact, it may have been worth letting him try to restrain him just to laugh at the result.

"Hi, Emmett," Isabella gasped as he dropped her and let her go. She readjusted her skirt and blouse as her face started to heat under the incredulous stares of the other students and guards. "I…I missed you too." 

"Ah," he mocked playfully as he popped his collar. "I _know_ you did. I mean look at me." He thumbed his chest, winked, and strolled over to his desk where Angela was trying her hardest to keep her laughter at bay. The tears that were rolling down her face, however, suggested that she was doing a piss poor job.

"S'up, Miss," Tyler muttered, keeping his eyes to the floor. Quil did the same.

Sam entered with a wide smile. "Miss Swan," he chimed as he held out his hand to her. "I um...I made this for you...as a welcome back gift. I hope you like it." His cheeks washed with pink as Isabella took the small, perfectly formed origami swan.

"Fucking kiss ass pussy," Quil muttered under his breath from where he slouched arrogantly in his seat.

Before Isabella could chastise his smart mouth, however; from his place at Angela's side, Emmett launched his copy of _The Merchant of Venice_, full speed, at the side of Quil's head.

"Fucking shut your bitch ass mouth, prick," Emmett fumed as Quil clutched his face with a deep groan. "Show some fucking respect."

"Emmett," Isabella said carefully as she stepped in front of the guard in an effort to stop him doing whatever it was he thought he needed to do to defuse the situation. Emmett's face was thunderous as his head snapped back to Isabella. It surprised her. She'd never seen him so protective of Sam before, and she immediately wondered what had transpired between them all in her absence.

"Sorry," Emmett muttered as his eyes dropped from his teacher's. "He's just a fucking idiot."

"That may be so," Isabella said as straight faced as she could. "But you can't throw things about my classroom, especially at other people, Emmett. Okay?"

Emmett nodded and sat back against his chair, "Yeah."

Isabella turned to Quil with fire in her eyes. "Something you would like to say, Quil?"

"The motherfucker just threw a bo-…" 

"_Do_ you need a medic?" Isabella interrupted with a tone that made all of the inmates sit up straight in their seats and pay attention.

Quil's face darkened as he took in Isabella's annoyed expression and pursed lips. He huffed and rubbed his face. "No."

"Good," Isabella snapped before turning back to Sam who was now looking as though he wished he'd never made the stupid swan in the first place. "This is beautiful, Sam," she whispered as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," he replied towards his feet.

"Would you like to take a seat?"

"Of course," Sam answered before he scuttled down the aisle to his place and clasped his hands patiently on his desk.

Isabella turned back to her own desk and placed the small piece of origami by her bag. Every edge and crease of the paper was perfect. She was truly touched by Sam's gesture and couldn't help but smile. Gradually, Isabella handed out her student's notebooks, pens, and the worksheets that they would need, and took her place at the front of the class.

Her eyes darted quickly but wistfully in the direction of Cullen's desk and chair, and her body immediately heated from the inside out as she pictured him sitting there in all his magnificent glory. She felt her mouth tingle from the remnants of his kisses and the soft flesh between her legs pulsed twice, longing for his touch.

She wondered what he was doing at that moment and whether he was thinking of her too. She wondered what stuff he had to do today and whether he would be late for their session. She smiled to herself. He was _always_ late.

A small cough in the background of her mind brought her back to the moment. She looked across at Angela who was smiling curiously in her direction. Isabella needed to get back on point.

"Um…yes," she stuttered as she ran a hand through her hair. "So I…I received your _Merchant _assignments that I set while I was away, and I will grade those and have them back to you by the end of the week. Well done for all the hard work you put into them."

"It was our pleasure, Miss S," Emmett said with a wide smile as he cupped his hands behind his head. "But can I say one thing?"

Isabella felt her lips curve into a smile. "Yes, Emmett."

He took a deep breath and scrunched his large nose. "I fucking _hate_ Shakespeare."

Everyone snickered and snorted, including Isabella, as Emmett shrugged and mumbled, '_but I do_,' to a laughing Angela.

"I know," Isabella managed through her giggles. "But you did very well. I'm proud of you." She looked around the class, making sure that she caught Quil's eye. "I'm proud of _all_ of you."

She saw his face lighten infinitesimally and knew immediately that his dark mood had lifted.

"So what's next, Miss Swan?" Tyler asked as he picked at his teeth with his thumb nail.

"This," Isabella answered as she held up a copy of _A Farewell to Arms_. "Anybody in this room ever heard of Ernest Hemingway?"

Sam, of course, put his hand up tentatively, but Isabella was most surprised when Emmett and Tyler did the same.

"Great," she said as she laid the book back down. "Tyler, tell me something you know about Ernest Hemingway or his works."

Tyler shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Um…he was…American?"

Emmett made a small teasing sound in his throat which garnered a glare from Isabella. Emmett's large form visibly shrank when he saw her expression. _Woman was vicious…_

"Yes, Tyler, well done, he _was_ American," Isabella said with a warm smile. "Emmett, tell me something you know about Hemingway."

He looked at the ceiling in contemplation. Isabella couldn't help but think he looked adorable. "Wasn't he the dude that wrote that book about the sun?"

Isabella grinned. "Yes, do you remember the name of that book?"

Emmett blew air through his lips making them smack together loudly. The fart sound echoed around the room.

"Nah," he answered finally.

Sam raised his hand and Isabella nodded for him to answer. "'_The Sun Also Rises'_," he said quietly.

"That's the fucker, Sammy!" Emmett cried with a pointed finger in Sam's direction.

"He also wrote _'For Whom the Bell Tolls'_ and _'A Moveable Feast'_," Sam added as he drew an invisible circle on his desk with the tip of his finger. "He's wonderful."

"That he is, Sam," Isabella beamed back at him. "To see how wonderful he is, I'd like you all to take a look at the paper in front of you."

She watched with a jolt of warmth as all four men did as she asked without question. _This_ was why she did what she did. For moments just like this one. The feeling of success, achievement and affection that bubbled within her could not be denied. Her mother's words about danger, and making the wrong choices, and being too _'involved'_ seemed so fucking ridiculous as Isabella watched her students. How could she not be involved with such fascinating creatures as the ones before her?

After four months of hard work, she had built relationships with each of the inmates that she taught. She had made progress with them, and helped them make small but gradual steps forward in themselves and in their studies. They were calmer, more engaged, and it was all because of _her_. Arrogant or not, Isabella knew it to be true, and all the people that apparently cared for her and saw her as incapable of making the _right_ choices for herself, could simply shove it up their asses. Isabella had enriched her students lives; albeit slightly, but had, in turn, been enriched by them, entirely.

The self-righteous, prejudiced fucks around her didn't see what she did, and Isabella could feel nothing but pity for them.

Even her own mother.

As present as the guilt was at that thought, Isabella knew that nothing could make her leave Arthur Kill. Nothing could make her regret her decision to work at the facility or with the men seated before her. Nothing could make her change her mind about tutoring Cullen.

And no one, not _one_ person on the face of the planet, could tell her that loving him was wrong.

Resolute, and feeling completely fired up, Isabella launched into her session about Ernest Hemingway, smiling widely as Sam read, from the paper before him, her favourite quote from _'For Whom the Bell Tolls'_:

'_Today is only one day in all the days that will ever be. But what will happen in all the other days that ever come can depend on what you do today.'_

##

As the session drew to a close and the inmates began to stand while the guards came through the classroom door like soldiers ready for battle, Emmett approached Isabella with a small timid smile.

"Good work today," Isabella praised as she situated the notebooks and pens in neat little piles on her desk. "I should go away more often. It seems to increase your enthusiasm for the written word."

Emmett smirked back at her as he rocked on his heels. "Yeah," he shrugged as his index finger touched Isabella's copy of Hemingway's novel. "I kinda like this Ernie dude."

Isabella laughed and leaned against her desk, crossing her arms over her chest. "What can I do for you, Emmett?"

"Laters, Miss Swan!" Tyler hollered from the doorway. Isabella turned slightly and waved. She shook her head as she looked back at Emmett.

He immediately seemed nervous and cracked his knuckles loudly. "You know it's my parole board meeting next week right?" he murmured towards his chest.

Isabella nodded.

"McCarty!" the guard behind them shouted. "Time's up!"

"Excuse me!" Isabella barked as she stood up from her seat on the desk and glowered at the guard in question. Isabella felt her anger change instantly to rage when she saw that it was the same piece of shit that had twisted Cullen's wrist, in an utterly unprovoked attack, when he had acted up in her class.

"Mr. McCarty here wishes to discuss something important with me about his education, and doesn't need _you_," –she thrust an accusatory finger his way- "Yelling at him while he does so."

The guard at once looked lost for words while Emmett smiled smugly at him over Miss Swan's tiny shoulder.

_Eat shit, motherfucker._

Isabella turned slowly back to her student. "Sorry, Emmett, carry on."

He clapped his hands together and widened his eyes. "Um…yeah, so, shit, it's my parole board meeting next week, and I was wondering…" He tapped his fists against one another. "I mean, I know you helped Cullen out…"

He shifted nervously from foot to foot which immediately made Isabella nervous.

"What do you want me to do, Emmett?" she asked gently as she placed a palm over his knuckles in an effort to calm him. "You can ask me anything, and, if I can help, I will."

Emmett's shoulders seemed to slump in relief. "Garrett said you'd say that, coz you're fucking cool and shit."

Isabella felt her cheeks blush. "Thank you."

"You might…_not_…be needed," he stammered. "But if you are, would you be willing to give a…a verbal character reference in front of the board? You know, help me get some extra points by telling them how awesome a fucker I really am?"

Isabella had received a request for a written character reference that morning from a very agitated Mike Newton. It seemed that he still got all sorts of fucking uppity when his inmates were granted their freedom. _Asshole_.

Isabella squeezed Emmett's fist and smiled warmly. "I'd be honoured to," she said determinedly.

"Really?" Emmett roared, making Isabella jump.

"Yes, really" she replied as he clutched her to his mammoth chest, almost suffocating her in the process.

"Fucking A, Miss S!" he cried as he hugged her hard. "I knew Cullen had good taste in women!"

Isabella froze instantly, but luckily, Emmett's giant forearms hid her reaction from Angela and the prick guard. What did he mean by that? Was it obvious that they were involved? Had she let something slip? Her mind raced through the last two hours of the session. _Shitshitshit…_

By the time Emmett had let her go and bid his goodbyes with fist bumps and hollers, Isabella had managed to pull herself together and hoped to God that she looked as unruffled as possible by his statement.

"You've made his day," Angela said as she collected her bags and from the back of the room. "He's been worrying about asking you for a full week."

"He has?"

"Yeah, he wasn't sure you'd say yes."

"Silly man," Isabella said with a slow shake of her head. She rubbed her sweating palms down her skirt, and cleared her throat. She glanced surreptitiously at Angela, and hoped like hell that her voice sounded nonchalant.

"What do you think he meant about…Cullen's taste in women?"

Angela walked over to her with a wry smile. "Oh, he was just playing," she said as she pulled at the bag strap on her shoulder, "Students and their favourites and all that. I think he was being unknowingly sarcastic." Angela chuckled quietly.

"Oh," Isabella said before forcing a smile, "Right."

"How is Cullen? Things good between you two?"

Isabella felt herself begin to fidget. "Yeah…he's um, yeah, he's good, fine…he's fine. He's doing really well."

Angela seemingly ignored the panic that Isabella was beginning to feel creep up her chest and neck. "Great. I'm glad that he's behaving for you."

Isabella waved a flippant hand. "Oh yeah, he's good." She smiled to herself. "I have to ply him with packets of Oreos and cans of Coke, but he's harmless."

"Oreos and Coke, huh?" Angela laughed. "Who knew he would be so easy?"

Isabella looked down as her cheeks flushed.

"Well, you tell him I said hi," Angela added before she made her way to the door. "And it's good to have you back, Isabella." She reached for the handle as she looked back. "You're vacation clearly did you good. You look really well."

"Thanks," Isabella muttered in reply as the door closed behind Angela.

Glancing back at the empty seat in the front row, Isabella suddenly wished that it was four o'clock already.

=PoF=

As the clock struck five after four, however, Isabella found herself alone in the reading room of the library, playing on her newly purchased iPhone. She'd had had a free couple of hours between leaving Arthur Kill and her session with Cullen, and had managed to make it home to upload all that she needed onto it. She couldn't live without her music. Not for another day.

She had been more than a little hesitant about putting the rescued SIM card from her old phone into it, and, as the phone began to beep incessantly with missed calls, voicemail messages, emails and texts, she suddenly realised why.

She scrolled through them slowly, with a narrowed eye as Alice's name, her mother's, Jamie's, Leah's (which she immediately replied to), Jasper's, and Peter's all made an appearance. After the fifth voicemail from her mother she deleted the remaining six, not wanting or needing to hear her condescension one more time.

The one name she did stop at, however, was Cullen's. He had sent a number of texts on the days that she had been driving from Chicago back to New York, and each one seemed more frantic than the last. He had clearly been worried about her, and Isabella's heart instantly did its usual flip-flop in her chest. The annoyance was clear in the words and tone of the texts, but the continued use of her pet name '_Peaches_', and his need for her to let him know that she was okay, showed his concern as clearly as if he had said the words to her face.

The texts from Alice, on the other hand, were short and succinct:

**Call me.**

**Call me, Bells. We need to talk.**

**Sorry.**

Isabella didn't allow herself to get mad at the fact that out of six messages Alice had only managed to send one apology. She wasn't worth it, and besides, anything that Alice had to say was worth entirely shit at this point.

Peter's messages, as always, were charming and concerned:

**Hey, Isabella, hope you're well. I was hoping we could have dinner again. Give me a call.**

**Isabella, ****Jasper called. He and Alice are worried about you. I am too. I'm here if you need a friend. X**

**Thinking of you. Peter. x**

"Fuck," Isabella muttered as she deleted every one, and threw her cell into her bag.

She hadn't seen Peter since their dinner date at his house almost a month ago. With his travels with work, his son, and Isabella's trip and work commitments, they simply hadn't had time to touch base. She had been unfair to him from the very beginning and, although she was still exceedingly pissed that he had kept his connection to Cullen a secret, Isabella still felt compelled to set the record straight, even if it was for her own piece of mind.

She knew without doubt that, after her last conversation with Alice and Jasper, Peter would be aware of the situation and the argument that took place. Not that Isabella was overly concerned by that fact. As honest as she should have been with Peter from the start, he should have been equally so. _Yes_, she had conceded that what her mother and Alice had said was true: they never _actually_ lied about knowing Cullen. But in Isabella's eyes, there was a very thin line between avoiding the truth and not telling it.

Either way you looked at it, Isabella had been played and she didn't like it.

She had _liked_ Peter though. He was a polite, handsome, charismatic guy. She had enjoyed his company and had gone so far as to kiss him, but, looking back, there was never the fire and passion that she now felt every time she was in Cullen's presence. The small flickers of attraction that she had for Peter were nothing compared to the all out inferno that set Isabella's body on fire, each time Cullen touched her, kissed her, fucked her. She was alive with Cullen; herself.

Of course Isabella knew that hindsight was always twenty/twenty, but even so, it had been clear to her for a while why she had felt a _'rock'_ in her stomach every time that she had been with Peter. That _'rock'_ had been a physical representation of her feelings for Cullen, her need for him, and the subconscious guilt that she suffered for being with another man. As much as she had thought and flirted with the idea of taking things further with Peter, the _'rock'_ had always brought Isabella back from making any rash decisions. And thank God for that.

After rummaging in her bag for her discarded cell, Isabella went straight to her messages, preparing to send a text to Peter. She sat with her thumb hovering over the letters of the pad for an age, with absolutely no clue about what she should type.

_Hey, Peter, sorry to tell you, but__ I can't have dinner with you again because I'm in love with your cousin. Yeah, the ex-con! Weird, right?_

Yeah._ Not_ a great idea.

The phone was once again tossed into the depths of Isabella's bag with another loud curse as she glanced at her watch and huffed in annoyance: four thirty. She glanced at the empty doorway of the reading room. Where the _hell_ was he? Isabella knew that Cullen had 'stuff' to do, and as far as he was concerned she was still without a cell phone which explained the silence from him, but she still couldn't help stop her temper as it began to fray around the edges as time crept on.

Isabella was suddenly hit with a worrying thought. Would Cullen start to take liberties with their sessions now that the two of them had slept together? Would he think he was no longer required to be her student three times a week? Would he really think that she wouldn't kick his ass all over Manhattan Island for being late just because he gave her three incredible orgasms? Isabella's leg started to twitch as her anger increased. He'd be in for one hell of a surprise if that was the case. Just because she let him cum all over her, did _not_ mean that he could fuck her about.

No. He'd said he be at the session. He'd promised.

Feeling punchy and agitated, Isabella lifted from her seat and began to wander around the reading room, heading for her favourite section: poetry. Her father would read Rossetti and Wordsworth to her when she was very young, and always when she was upset or hurt. _'Walter the Lazy Mouse,'_ was primarily bedtime reading - even though Isabella carried her own copy around with her everywhere.

With the tip of her index finger placed against the spines of the books, Isabella meandered down the aisle between the two huge mahogany bookshelves. The smell of the leather, ink, and wood was rich and comforting to Isabella, and reminded her of her father's library at the house they had owned in Westchester. She stopped when she came to the romantic poets, specifically Wordsworth, immediately needing his imagery of an English countryside and swaying daffodils to ease her mind that now seemed to be travelling a million miles a minute.

Suitably calmed and feeling incredibly nostalgic after reading three of his poems, Isabella replaced Wordsworth and pulled down a small, black book with gold leaf font that was filled with sonnets, poems, and declarations of love. Holding the book in one hand, she leafed through the yellowing pages with the other.

_Give me a kisse, and to that kisse a score; _

_Then to that twenty, adde a hundred more; _

_A thousand to that hundred; so kisse on, _

_To make that thousand up a million; _

_Treble that million, and when that is done, _

_Let's kisse afresh, as when we first begun. _

_Robert Herrick _

Isabella smiled down at the words as she read them again. Granted, the words were written by a man for the woman that he loved, but it was easy for her to see why he had written them in the first place, and what he meant by them: One kiss was never enough. Isabella had learned with Cullen that even when he showered her mouth with kisses, there was always an overwhelming desire for more.

His mouth was perfection: soft and passionate, and he seemed to know exactly what she wanted from his lips whenever they came near her. Isabella had never experienced kisses like the ones she had shared with Cullen. They were the sort of kisses one read about in trashy romance novels. They were toe-curling and stole her breath away every time.

She licked her lips at the thought and ran the tips of her fingers across them as she thought back to the last time she had felt his mouth on hers. She missed his kisses. She missed his touch. She missed him.

As that very thought passed through her mind, Isabella instantly felt every single hair on the back of her neck stand on end and her heart kick up so hard, that she placed a hand against her chest in an effort to calm it.

Someone was behind her.

Before she could think about who it was or what they were doing, a large hand clasped her shoulder, and spun her around before backing her heavily into the shelves of the bookcase. The air left Isabella's lungs in a giant whoosh and the book she had been holding fell from her hands to the floor with a loud slap.

Dizzy from being spun at speed, it took Isabella a moment to find her bearings and focus on the face before her, and when she did, she wished immediately that she hadn't.

The tip of Cullen's nose was almost touching hers while his breath washed over her face in strong heated waves. His broad chest was pressing firmly against hers, and the grip he had on her waist was tight and bordering on painful.

But that wasn't what made Isabella's throat close on panic. It was the expression on his face that did that. His eyes were so dark the green was almost indistinct, and the edges of his perfect mouth were curled up into a hateful snarl that was terrifying. He looked ferocious.

He looked animal and raw and Isabella was immediately anxious and terrified. Not of him, of course, but of what could have possibly happened to make him look so un-human and deadly. What the _fuck_?

She opened her mouth to speak, but Cullen's hand was at once covering it, holding her words tightly in his palm that smelled of smoke and mint.

"Don't," he rasped. He closed his eyes and shook his head as he swallowed. His nostrils flared and his hold on her tightened. "Just_ don't_ speak."

Isabella's eyes widened slightly, but she nodded in compliance. She watched him as he kept his own eyes closed. She was fascinated by his jaw as it clenched and relaxed over and over and she could see small beads of sweat along his hairline and sideburns.

He blew air out from between his pursed lips before he finally began to speak. "I…I just came from a very…_interesting_ meeting," he said through his teeth. His chin was by his chest and he spoke every word quietly to his boots, "A _very_…interesting meeting."

With his right hand still covering Isabella's lips and his left hand squeezing her hip, Cullen gradually lifted his head and let his stare rest on hers. His eyes were filled with every conceivable emotion, and Isabella was struck with the overwhelming urge to hug him and take away the pain that was lacing his words.

"Do you know who my meeting was _with_, Bella?" he asked slowly and purposefully.

Isabella frowned slightly in confusion before shaking her head. Cullen smiled humourlessly as he leaned forward stopping only when his lips were by her cheek.

"My cousin," he whispered. He stood back so that he could see her face as he muttered, "Peter. Whitlock."

A shiver ran through Isabella's body as the fury in his eyes ignited with his words. _Oh shit._ She felt her own face start to pale and her knees shook with panic. What the _hell_ had Peter said? What had he told Cullen that could have resulted in such a reaction?

Cullen was anything but stupid, and Isabella knew he had seen the effect the name had on her.

His own response was immediate as he looked deeply into her eyes. His jaw seemed to loosen and his shoulders slumped at the same time that his hand dropped from her mouth. His left hand remained holding her, and Isabella winced as the tips of his fingers pushed deeper into her hip.

"It's true?" Cullen murmured through lips that barely moved. A small 'v' appeared between his eyebrows as his gaze wandered questioningly over her face.

Isabella took a breath. As caught off guard as she was by his actions and words, she had to remain calm for both of their sakes. She met his stare and licked her lips. "Is what true?"

The slam of Cullen's fist connecting with the mahogany shelving at the side of Isabella's head, echoed around the room like a nuclear bomb, making Isabella yelp and jump in shock.

"Don't fucking _play_ with me here, Bella!" Cullen snarled in her face. "Don't you _fucking_ dare!"

"I…I'm not," she replied as evenly as she could, blinking back his hot, angry breath.

"Just a yes or no," Cullen continued darkly as he stared at her from beneath his lashes. "That's all I want, and then I'll be on my merry fucking way."

Isabella's heart sank as dread - on a scale of which she had never experienced - began to creep up her spine.

"I…I don't know, Cullen. What are you asking me?"

The hand that Cullen had smashed against the shelving moved to Isabella's jaw and he began kneading at the skin along her neck. He didn't hurt her, but the movement screamed of a desperation and need that made tears spring to Isabella's eyes.

"Peter," Cullen growled, as his eyes watched the fingers that moved along her throat and neck. "The fucking…mother_fucker_…" He paused and released a long hiss of breath, steadying himself by leaning his body heavily against Isabella's. "He said that…Did you…?"

"Did I...what?" she whispered, feeling herself fracture as she watched the absolute chaos in the man before her.

Cullen looked at her, his eyes flickering rapidly between light and dark. The dark was most prevalent as he took a deep breath and asked: "Did you fuck him?"

Isabella's mouth made an audible pop as his words registered in her brain. Fuck him? Why the hell would he think that? Peter couldn't have said such a thing. Could he? Isabella's heart stuttered as the pieces began to fall in place.

Cullen was hurting because of _her_.

"Edward."

"NO!" he barked as he gripped her jaw in his palm. "No fucking _Edward_. Not here. Not now. Just…yes or no. I fucking swear…just…" He groaned and kicked at the bottom shelf before dropping his forehead and muttering into Isabella's shoulder, "_Did_ you fuck him?"

Isabella stood, almost paralysed, as Cullen sighed into the skin of her neck.

"Did you fuck him, Bella?" he asked again in a voice that was close to defeat. "Please, tell me."

Slowly, as not to alarm him, Isabella raised her hand from where it had been hanging lifelessly at her side, and brought it to Cullen's face. He flinched at her touch which resulted in a small tear escaping from Isabella's right eye. Not to be deterred, she persevered and eventually her finger tips were dancing lightly across his cheek and down his jaw.

Cullen eventually looked down at her, his face still livid, confused, and upset as she slowly shook her head from side to side.

"No," Isabella murmured as she moved her palm from his cheek, down his neck, to his chest. "No, I didn't." She swallowed her anger for Peter as much as she could. Cullen was her priority now. "I didn't," she repeated as she rubbed her hand around in a small circle, praying that it would ease him. "No."

The relief that Cullen felt was only evident in the way that his grip on Isabella lessened. His face still held a million and one emotions and questions. He licked his lips and shifted from one foot to the other. "You didn't?"

Isabella shook her head more determinedly, "Never, Cullen. No."

He nodded minutely as his eyes wandered down her body. It wasn't in the sexual way that Isabella had started to grow used to, instead, it was almost as though he was seeing her for the first time since he had pushed her into the books.

"You didn't," he whispered finally and ran the hand that had been holding her hip, through his hair. He took an unsteady step back, releasing Isabella, and stared at her in a way that made her want to cry and laugh all at the same time.

He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned back against the book shelf opposite her. He looked worn and weary, having become the complete antithesis of the raging creature that he had been. Isabella stood up straight, feeling the edges of the shelves digging roughly into her back for the first time since Cullen had appeared, and made to take a step towards him.

Cullen quickly put his palm up to stop her, and shook his head as his eyes dropped to her feet

"Don't," he said gently with frown. "I'm…I…just stay there."

Isabella nodded and, even though it broke her heart, she stepped back. "Okay."

She stood for what felt like an hour, watching Cullen as he slowly began to morph back into the man that she knew, the man that she loved. The tightness of his jaw dissolved, as did the tension across his shoulders, but the sadness in his eyes was palpable. He was hurting and Isabella immediately wanted to find Peter and make him hurt a million times more than Cullen was.

"I know I told you _not_ to tell me," Cullen croaked quietly. "In the park, when you tried to tell me about you…" He swallowed hard, "And Peter."

Isabella felt her anger for Cullen's cousin hit nuclear. "He's not important-…"

"You had dinner with him," Cullen interrupted as he jutted out his chin, daring her to deny it. "Didn't you?"

Isabella sighed and pushed her lips together into a tight line. "Yes."

"At his house," Cullen added. Isabella nodded and Cullen's face scrunched as though he was suffering a raging headache. "A date," he muttered as he rubbed his palm across his face.

Isabella bit her lip and looked down at her hands that were fisting at her waist. How stupid she had been to keep this from him? She had cursed her family for not being truthful, and she had done the exact same thing to the most important person in her life. She was no better than they were.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I...I'm sorry that I didn't tell you."

Cullen watched her carefully, but couldn't seem to maintain eye contact with her. "Did..._anything_ happen?"

Isabella looked at his chest and exhaled with a small, exhausted nod.

"You kissed him?"

Her eyes met his briefly as she whispered a tiny, 'yes'.

Cullen's head leaned back and he hit it hard against the large books behind him. "Motherfucking prick," he growled before bringing his foot up and smashing it into the shelf ladder at his right, making the whole thing shoot to the far end of the mahogany shelves with a loud crash.

Isabella looked reflexively towards the end of the aisle, expecting Mrs. Cope to come and investigate the noise. For now, at least, the two of them were alone.

"Cullen," Isabella whispered as she took a tentative step towards him. "Please, talk to me."

"There's nothin' to talk about," he retorted snarkily as he looked over her head to the space behind her.

"There's plenty to talk about," Isabella said firmly. "You're upset and I want to make it right. You just have to let me explain."

"Explain what, Bella?" Cullen snapped as his eyes flicked to hers. "Explain that while I was in prison wanting you more than I've wanted fucking anything in my life, you were allowing my cocksucking cousin to stick his filthy tongue down your throat."

"Hey!" Isabella cried, taking another step towards him while pointing a pissed finger in his face. "That isn't fair! I didn't _know_ that he was your cousin and I didn't _know_ that you wanted me! You treated me like a goddman pariah every time I saw you while I was seeing Peter. How the_ hell_ would I know?"

Cullen didn't answer but avoided her stare and toed the floor like a petulant teenager.

Isabella took a breath and dropped her finger from his face as his words sank into her bones and heart, _"...wanting you more than I've wanted anything..."_ Did he really? Did he want her that much even then? Her heart fluttered and swelled as she looked at him and all his angry beauty.

She stepped closer and placed her hands timidly on his hips. "Cullen," she said as gently as she could. He moved his head to the right, turning away from her. "Cullen," she repeated as she moved her hands to his shoulders. "Look at me."

Cullen exhaled loudly down his nose, but kept his head turned from her. Isabella looked down to see his hands had turned into fists that were so tight his knuckles were white. Her hands continued moving to his neck that was flushed with his temper, up to his sharp jaw that was still covered in rough stubble.

"Cullen, look at me," Isabella pleaded as she pulled his face to hers. His eyes rested on her chin. "Talk to me, baby, please."

"What do you want me to say, Bella?" he asked in a quiet voice that belied the rage inside of him.

He shifted once more from one foot to the other, slouching so that Isabella was no longer on her tip toes. His eyes moved up her face slowly until they were sucked in by her dark brown gaze. He stared at her for an age. Not speaking, but simply taking her in. He eventually moved his hands to her waist, squeezing her once before dropping his chin to his chest.

"I fucking hate that he's touched you," he whispered. As quiet as he had said the words the venom within them screamed out at Isabella.

"He didn't," she countered resolutely.

Cullen's head snapped up to hers and a confused expression crossed his face. Isabella smiled and rubbed her hand down his temple.

"No-one has ever touched me like you do," she murmured as she drew her nose across his chin, breathing in his rich scent. "No-one has ever kissed me like you do." She looked up at him and smiled tenderly, placing a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. "No-one has ever fucked me like you do."

"Bella," Cullen whimpered as he closed his eyes and placed his forehead against hers.

"He's nothing compared to you," Isabella continued fervently. "I _never_ wanted him."

"_Peaches_."

"No, Cullen, listen to me," Cullen urged as she took his hands in hers and held them to her chest. "We went out few times." Cullen made to pull away, but Isabella held firm. "And yes, we did have dinner at his house and we did kiss. But do you know why we didn't do more, why I _couldn't _do more?"

Cullen simply stared at the floor, not responding.

"Ask me why?" Isabella whispered as she pushed her face into his shoulder.

She felt his chest rise and fall and a soft groan rumble in his throat. "Why, Bella?" he asked cautiously.

"Because every time I was with him," Isabella mumbled into his shirt. "Every _single_ time he touched me. I thought of you."

She lifted her head to see Cullen staring down at her. His eyes were desperate to believe her, but something in the way his mouth twitched and his eyebrow lifted told Isabella that he was sceptical.

"It's the truth," she added with passion in her voice. "I promise you." She cupped his jaw gently in her hands. "I wanted you too. For so long," she reached up and placed a lingering kiss on his lips and tried like hell not to get upset when he didn't kiss her back. "I still want you so much, Cullen," she said against his mouth. "I need you. I…"

"What, Peaches?" Cullen asked as he gazed down at her.

"I just hate that he upset you and…made you hate me." A small tear ran down her cheek, but it was caught by Cullen's thumb before it hit her chin.

He sighed and frowned in exasperation. "I don't hate you, Bella," he admonished softly. "I couldn't. It's him I hate. I hate what he stands for, his greed, his pretentious arrogance, and the fact that he wants things of mine that he has no _fucking_ right in wanting."

Isabella heard the double meaning in his words and licked her lips.

"He makes me sick," he continued, the hate bright in his irises. "And it makes me sick that he has been anywhere near you."

"I'm sorry," Isabella repeated as she dropped her hands from his face. What more could she say?

"I know," Cullen replied as he wound his arms around her waist. "I know. I'm sorry too." He lowered his face to her neck and kissed her throat as though she was the most precious thing in the world. "I'm sorry I hurt you, baby."

"You didn't," Isabella answered as she buried her nose into his hair.

"Yes, I did." Cullen rubbed his palm over the small of her back that was tender from where the shelves had stuck her. "And I'm sorry. I was just so…_fuck_…"

"I know," Isabella finished for him. She knew how hurt she would be if she had been in his shoes. She wasn't naïve enough to believe Cullen's past sex life would be anything but colourful, but she couldn't allow herself to think about him with other women. The thought made her blood run cold. _Mine._

"Do you remember what you did to me this morning?" she purred into his ear. She felt his grip on her tighten and his breath washed over her neck as his tongue flicked at the skin underneath her ear.

"Fuck yes," he groaned.

"No one has ever done that to me before, Cullen. Ever."

"Bella," he moaned as he brought his head up and, with his hands knotted tightly in her hair, crushed his mouth to hers.

Isabella couldn't help the wanton groan of lust that erupted from her as he kissed her, while curving her body into his so that she could feel every line of him. She deepened the kiss quickly with a flick of her tongue across his bottom lip and gripped the back of his neck as firmly as she could when he grunted in appreciation. Isabella knew that she had to convince him that she belonged to him. No-one came close. No-one could take her from him, and no fucker on the planet would dare try to take him from her. _Mine._

"Let me show you," she gasped as their lips parted momentarily.

"What?"

"Let me show you that I belong only to you."

Cullen's eyes darkened once more, but this time it was from pure want and not the anger that still smouldered deep in his chest. His hips bucked instinctively against Isabella's stomach, but then a look of hesitancy crossed his face.

"What?" Isabella asked as she kissed across his mouth.

"Bella," he hissed as her hand cupped his hard cock through his jeans. "I feel like a complete asshole right now."

"Why?" Isabella asked as she began to massage his erection with slow, teasing rubs of her palm.

"Because I just hurt you…_ah_…screamed in your fucking face…_shit_…and now I want to fuck you against these fucking books so hard that when you cum Peter will hear you across the city in his bitch ass…_uh_…office."

Isabella smiled into his bicep. "That sounds incredible," she replied in a low voice. "But I'd much rather he hear you."

Before Cullen could ask what she meant, Isabella dropped her hands to his belt buckle, undoing it as fast as she could. She pulled his button fly open and pushed her hands inside the denim, gasping when she came into contact with the hot, soft skin of his dick.

"Fucking Christ," Cullen panted as his head lolled back with a thump, "Bella…your hand…_Jesus_."

"Does that feel good?" she asked as she licked his collarbone, glancing quickly at the aisle entryway.

"Goddamn it, yes," he replied as he sucked in a hiss of breath.

Isabella released him for one quick moment and licked her palm from wrist to finger tip, making it as wet a she could.

"Fuck, baby," Cullen whimpered as he watched her and groaned deeply when the heat and slickness of her hand slid along his full length.

"You're so hard," Isabella moaned as Cullen's mouth met hers with a frantic grunt.

"Always for you," he replied as he grabbed her breasts and caressed her nipples through the silk of her blouse.

"You feel so good," she murmured.

"You feel fucking amazing."

"Could you cum?"

"Fuck yes."

"Could you cum in my mouth?"

Cullen's hands froze and Isabella smiled into his cheek as his cock twitched and throbbed in her palm.

"I…I'm…Peaches…I." Cullen's eyes were wide and awash with desire.

"I'll take that as a yes," Isabella smirked as she dropped to her knees and quickly licked the tip of him, tasting the musky evidence of his need for her.

"Motherfucker," Cullen growled through his teeth, "Oh God."

"Keep a look out," Isabella said with a flirtatious nod of her head towards the entry way. "Anybody could walk in and see me sucking your cock."

Cullen's mouth dropped open. "Sweet Jesus, woman, where the _hell_ did you come from?"

Isabella smiled before slowly lowering her mouth onto him. Cullen's hands were immediately in her hair and he thrust upwards, filling her mouth. Isabella gagged slightly and Cullen apologised profusely.

"Sorry. Sorry, but it's too good, sweetheart," he panted as he stroked her hair. "Fuck, your lips, Bella. _Fuck_. Fuck, your lips."

Opening her throat as much as she could, Isabella sucked more of him in, moaning at the same time that Cullen did. He was exquisite in her mouth. In her pussy he was sublime, but having him at her mercy, in a public library where anyone could walk in, was beyond erotic, and beyond anything that Isabella had ever done with anyone else.

Cullen seemed to bring out Isabella's sexual side in a way she'd never experienced. She wasn't embarrassed to admit that she had embraced the dirty mouth and daring seductress that had apparently been dormant within her, wholeheartedly. Cullen was such a sexual creature that it was impossible for Isabella not to become the same. And she liked it. A lot.

With that in mind, Isabella moved her hand to Cullen's balls and cupped them gently, rubbing and caressing in a way that she hoped would feel good. Cullen groaned out her name and moved his hips again.

"Yes," he hissed, "Fucking yes, baby."

Isabella hummed at his praise and immediately tasted more of his pre-cum at the back of her throat.

"Close," he whispered as his breaths began to leave him at super speed. "Look at you…_shit_…look at you sucking my cock."

Isabella opened her eyes and stared up at him, flicking and twisting her tongue up and down him as she began to move faster.

"God…_Bella_…close,_ so_ close…"

Isabella took him deeper, making him as wet as she could.

"You're beautiful," Cullen murmured as he cupped her face. "Oh shit. I'm…yes, Peaches. Just…like…_that_."

His long fingers wound into her hair and his hips thrust four times - a grunt from his chest punctuating each one - before he held her head still and exploded into her mouth with a long deep groan that made Isabella's clit pulse. Three long streams of his cum hit the back of her throat and Isabella swallowed quickly, lapping at him, desperate for more. She moaned and purred around him until Cullen hissed for her to stop; holding her head still while his legs shook.

"You're amazing," he sighed with hooded eyes, "Fucking amazing."

Begrudgingly, and with a small kiss on his tip, Isabella pulled back and smiled up at him. She wiped at the sides of her mouth with the ends of her fingers. "You taste good," she whispered.

Cullen's eyes rolled as he muttered some choice expletives under his breath, and pulled her to her feet before yanking her into his arms.

"Thank you," he said into her hair as he squeezed her. "You didn't have to do that, but fuck me I'd be a lying son of a bitch if I said I didn't love every second of it."

Isabella laughed lightly as she helped him rearrange himself back into his jeans. "You're more than welcome."

"You _are_ amazing, you know," he said quietly as his eyes burned into hers.

Isabella felt her cheeks burn but before should answer Cullen's lips were on hers, slow and gentle, and once again taking her breath away.

"I know I'm far from fucking perfect," he said with a dip of his head as he pulled back. "I'm a fucking asshole and a possessive motherfucker. But I mean it when I say, Bella, I'll kill anyone who fucking touches you without my permission."

Isabella gulped and gripped his ribs in understanding. She couldn't be mad at his promise - as absurd and domineering as it sounded - because she felt the exact same way about him. She was tied to him both physically and emotionally, and heaven help anybody who tried to break that connection. She loved him and needed him with every inch of herself and his fervent words simply reinforced everything that she thought or felt for him.

Cullen tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed. "Not that I deserve it, but, will you stay with me tonight? I wanna talk to you. Try and explain…try and…_fuck_, I don't know, I just…" He licked his lips and trailed a finger across Isabella's collarbone. "I just…I honestly don't want to go home without you."

Isabella's heart stuttered in her chest and her eyes glazed with tears of relief and happiness.

"Of course," she whispered as she kissed him with everything that she had. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

**Holy blow job in the library, Batman!**

**Good Lord, these two are gonna be the death of me ****and**** my panties!**

**No promise on an update time with Christmas coming up, but I will keep you posted on Twitter and the thread with dates etc if you want them. I'm hoping it'll be two weeks.**

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**Leave me love…or hate…if you want, naturally.**

**TTFN xxx**


	29. Chapter 29

**Hello my sexy PAW lovers!**

**Here I am, and only four days over the two weeks! Considering I wasn't sure whether there would be an update before Christmas, I'm amazed myself!**

**Thank you once again for all the reviews for the last chapter. I tried to reply to as many as I could. If I missed you, I apologise, please take this note as a huge thanks.**

**Massive love and bewby shakes to the girls on Twitter - you are awesome. Every. Single. One of you. And to the girls on the Twilighted thread - your insight and ideas about this story are fascinating. Thank you.**

**Take this update as an early Christmas present from me to you!**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 28: Jealousy, Anger, Possessiveness, Oh My!**

"_He that is not jealous is not in love." ~ __**St. Augustine **_

There had been so many moments in his life where Cullen had felt disappointment or frustration in some form or another that he had lost count. Depressingly, since the day of his birth, the two emotions had, seemingly, followed him everywhere that he went; running concurrently with everything that he did, along with every choice that he made.

From learning about his mother's desire to 'get rid' of him, and her subsequent intolerance of him as a child, to the day that his own father sent him away to a strange boarding school at the tender age of nine - even though the small bronze haired boy had begged and pleaded for his daddy not to - Cullen had learned to become immune to the sting of things going to shit.

He was used to it, he shrugged it off, and, in many ways - as cynical as it sounded - Cullen had started to expect the worst in all situations and people.

At least that way his ass was never taken by surprise, and the arrogant, devil-may-care armour that he covered himself in continued to protect him from any and all pain that came with being around fuckers and fuck-ups.

Cullen was an angry son of a bitch and had accepted that particular fact years ago. He didn't like it and he hated the roots of it, but shit, how else was he supposed to feel after everything that he had been through, regardless of whether it was his doing or some fucker else's?

While in Arthur Kill, as much as he detested every second, he had done his anger management sessions and his meetings with Garrett religiously, while also kicking the ever loving shit out of the equipment in Alec's gym twice a week. In his own mind, and as far as his councillors and correction officers were concerned, there was no more that he could do.

Well, until_ Peaches_ came back into his life.

_Bella_.

The woman had been an enigma from the get go, as well as being an epic pain in Cullen's ass and crotch. She had driven him fucking crazy - still did - but, as time had gone on, along with his prison release and the changes in his and Bella's relationship, Cullen began to realise that, as much as she could rile him and get on his last damn nerve, she also managed to calm him.

After the most intense fucking of his young life and while he had held a sleeping Bella in his arms, in his bed, Cullen had experienced something that he was utterly unfamiliar with: peace.

It wasn't that his brain turned off completely while she was around, or that he had had some cheesy fucking spiritual enlightenment while they came together, it was simply that Bella seemed to help lower his brain volume. The frustration, anger, and disappointment that resided and twisted constantly within him, was blunted and muffled by Bella's presence. He could breathe better, relax, felt more himself, and Cullen had done nothing but bask unashamedly in his new found slice of peach flavoured serenity.

Certainly, his Bella was a paradox. Her touch and words grounded him, while her kisses made him fly. At times she made him want to rip the city up in rage, but she could also make him smile like no one else. Her hugs and caresses dazed him as much as her furious slaps and Cullen still wasn't decided about whether her angry passion turned him on more than her sexual passion.

The juxtaposition was intense and was, for Cullen, absolutely perfect. Just like she was.

Her fire and strength, and her tenderness and sensibility, were what made Bella so special. As ferocious as she could be, she could also be soft and quiet: molten fire and relaxing warmth. Cullen loved that she kept him on his toes. He loved the spontaneity and the passion that smouldered continually between them, and he loved that she met him with every touch, kiss and thrust with as much intensity as he felt and needed.

She was _everything_ that he needed or wanted but, as much as he should have been embracing his feelings for this spectacularly infuriating and beautiful woman, Cullen had found himself entirely terrified by them.

He was a pussy, he knew, but it was the unknown, the unfamiliarity, and the vulnerability that he had opened himself up to that left a sheen of sweat on his brow and a flutter in his heart. His armour had been delivered a huge blow when he had pushed himself into Bella that night.

She hadn't eased it off him with a gentle caress. No. She had torn it open with wild passion, frantic touches and whispered words that floored him, putting his chest and his heart in a seriously precarious and fucked up position.

Cullen couldn't imagine being without Bella, now that he had her, and the thought of losing her filled him with a dread that was almost suffocating. Disappointment and frustration were nothing compared to the inevitable pain that Bella's absence would cause. For all his assaholic, aggressive, don't-give-a-fuck showboating, Cullen had left himself wide open, and Bella had crawled into the many spaces within him that he thought were lost and barren, and had brought every one of them back to life.

She had become his weakness, his Achilles heel, and, as such, she now owned the key to the dark side of himself that had been locked up for so long.

As that very lock had rattled and shaken, Cullen had almost succumbed to the smothering sensation that had gripped his chest the moment that his fuck-wit cousin had inferred that he and Bella were more; that they had _done_ more.

As flashes of Bella and Peter together whipped through his brain, Cullen was barely functional. Never had he felt rage like it. Never had the urge to end someone overwhelmed him as much as it had as Cullen had glared at Peter across his office. And never had he felt a fear like the one that crept up his spine and settled in his heart like ice.

After slamming the prick's door and storming out onto the cold New York streets, Cullen had driven around the city, desperate and raging, and without any clue as to how he was going to confront Bella with what he had learned.

Because confronting was exactly what needed to happen.

He needed her to tell him the truth. He needed to hear the words from her lips. If she had fucked Peter, Cullen needed _her_ to confirm it.

He was a masochistic motherfucker, of course, but he had to know, for his own sanity, and for the sake of his heart that every day seemed to beat more for her. Cullen had shied constantly from the labels that he knew would fit the feelings he had for Bella. When they had been in bed together the words had crept up his throat, threatening to spill out over her, but he knew he couldn't allow that.

If Bella _had_ been with Peter and Cullen said words that could never be taken back, he risked not only hurting himself, but her too. He would walk away. He would remove himself from the situation, no matter how hard it would be, or how much it would hurt. He would wrench that key from her hand and throw it in the fucking Hudson.

Cullen was no fool and he wouldn't allow himself to be taken for one by anybody. _Even his Peaches._ If she had lied, or even omitted that small titbit of information, Cullen was sure he would never be able to forgive her.

Hypocrite? Maybe, but Cullen harboured so much hatred towards his cousin that he couldn't even begin to consider that. Bella was _his_. She had forever been his Peaches, his girl, the woman that he had wanted and dreamed of since he was eleven years old. Knowing that Peter had touched something so precious, so important, made Cullen sick to his bones. He would kill the motherfucker. In his daze, he still wasn't even sure how the hell he had managed to walk out of the bastard's office.

By the time he had reached the library for his session with Bella, Cullen was on the very edge of reason. His heart was slamming in his chest and his lungs had shrunk, resulting in his breaths becoming shallow and loud. His head felt like it was sitting in a fucking vice and his blood thundered in his ears.

As much as he tried to stay sane, seeing her for the first time with Peter's insinuations blaring in his head, Cullen had handled Bella roughly, throwing her back into the shelves harder than he ever intended. He wanted to shake sense into her. Scream and tell her how much he hurt, and how much he needed her assurance, but his anger, arrogance and snark won out.

He held her face and snarled at her. He was losing himself, and not in a good way. Not like the way he had felt when he had buried himself inside of her or when she had thanked him for saving her. He was losing himself to the anger and vengeance that burned hatefully in his stomach.

Bella's face nearly broke him. Her beautiful terrified eyes and her stammered words and questions immediately began to dilute the resolve that he had built around himself before he had entered the reading room, and, as he begged for her to tell him the truth, Cullen knew that if her answer was yes, as much as it would kill him, he wouldn't be able to walk away from her.

The pull between them was too strong. The fire inside him too hot. The need for her too overpowering. The love…

_No._ He couldn't. He wasn't ready.

Almost beside himself with fear and anger, and with his sweating forehead pressing hard against her neck and shoulder, Bella finally uttered the words that nearly brought Cullen to his knees: "No. I didn't."

He had looked at her, waiting, sceptical, ready for the disappointment and the frustration to hit, but it never came. She was telling the truth. But, of course, Cullen couldn't be satisfied with that. He had to push, to antagonise, and hear exactly what had happened between his Bella and his cousin. They may not have fucked, but the cunt had had his hands on her in some way.

Standing away from her and her touch so that he didn't waver further, Cullen asked her straight out.

_Yes_, Bella had murmured, they_ had_ kissed. _Yes_, they had had dinner. At Peter's house. A date.

Cullen felt his head begin to pound once again. A date. _Fuck._ He had never been on a date. He didn't know what the fuck he would _do_ on a date. The small voice in the darkest depths of his brain suddenly became louder. Bella deserved to be wined and dined. She deserved to be treated right and, as much of a fucker as Peter Whitlock was, he was sure to have treated Bella right. That silent admission tasted like fucking ass on Cullen's tongue.

Tongue. Yeah, Peter had had his down Bella's throat, and, with that image stuck behind his eyelids, Cullen spewed venom at Bella, accusing her of playing him, of enjoying her time with Peter while his own ass was rotting in Arthur Kill. It was a fucking ridiculous accusation to make, and Cullen knew it as soon as Bella thrust a finger in his face and shouted back.

Yeah, he was out of line, Cullen knew, but, fuck, he was all over the place. He was scared and angry and Bella was in the line of fire. The one person he wanted more than any other was the one person he was unconsciously pushing away.

Incredibly, and with hardly any fear, Bella persisted, holding Cullen's face and pleading with him to listen. The truth was, however, it hurt too much for him to look at her. It hurt because he could still see Peter with her, kissing her. It hurt because she was too damn beautiful and he would lose himself in her eyes. And it hurt because he knew that, no matter what, he was hers forever.

And it scared him to death.

"I fucking hate that he's touched you," Cullen had confessed. He loathed it. Resented it. He wanted brain bleach.

Until Bella told him how she felt. How no one had touched her before him. How no one kissed her or fucked her like Cullen did. How no one came close to him, including Peter, and, when Cullen felt his body slump and all fight leave him, with no fear, in the middle of the library, Bella put her mouth on his cock and made his goddamn body sing.

Her mouth. Jesus _fucking_ Christ, her mouth was perfection. Hot, wet, and hungry and pulling his orgasm from him with the strength of a hundred wild horses. He thrust into her mouth, wanting to disappear further inside. There was no stopping it. There was no stopping his Bella.

Cullen knew that she wanted to make him forget, to make him see what she meant when she said no one else mattered. He felt it in her tongue as it twisted around his length. He felt it in her lips as they tightened around him, and he saw it in her soul when she looked up at him with adoring eyes.

She was beautiful and he told her so.

The light engulfed the darkness as he came hard down her throat and Cullen quickly pulled her to him while literally begging her to stay with him.

_I'm yours_. _Keep me calm. Keep me safe._

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Neither would Cullen.

He buried his nose into the side of her neck and placed a gentle kiss against the soft skin there. "Thank you," he whispered before kissing her again.

"What for?" Bella asked as she played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"For putting up with my stupid fucking ass," he answered as he stood to his full height and took a deep breath. "I know I wouldn't if I were you." He smiled wryly.

Bella smiled back and raised her eyebrows. "That's because you have the patience of a gnat."

Cullen laughed a long breath down his nose and licked his lips. She knew him well. If he had been in her shoes, he would have kicked his own ass fucking weeks ago. But not her. Not strong, feisty, stubborn Miss Swan.

He stared at Bella for a long moment, memorising her face and its perfect intricacies. She was so stunning. No wonder Peter had wanted her. _Still_ wanted her. Cullen cringed at the thought, and furrowed his brow in annoyance at himself. His post orgasmic haze was suddenly not enough to keep his raging jealousy at bay.

"Are you okay?" Bella asked softly as her eyes flickered between his.

_No._

"Yeah," he muttered with a sharp nod. "I'm fine."

Bella pressed her palm to his chest. "We can skip this session," she said gently. "Reschedule? If you want to go home now, we can."

Cullen could see the concern in the tightness of her lips and the tension in her shoulders. He knew that they had much to talk about, but honestly, he needed time to regroup before that happened. The thought alone was fucking exhausting. Focussing on Hemingway for an hour, although arduous, would hopefully allow him to settle down further. The last thing he wanted was another screaming match with her. He was determined to hold his temper after the soothing words that Bella had uttered to him. He owed her that much.

"No," he said finally as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "It's alright. Let's do this."

"You're sure," she insisted with wide eyes. "I don't mind."

Cullen leaned down and brushed his lips lightly against hers. "I'm sure," he replied with a slightly mischievous smile. "Come on. Teach me something, woman."

He smacked her ass firmly making her squeak, while simultaneously breaking the tense moment, and smiled when she smacked his arm back in retaliation. There she was: the fire cracker that wouldn't take his shit. Cullen kept his arm securely around Bella's waist as they walked slowly down the aisle after she had replaced her book on the shelf, but he begrudgingly released her when they entered the main room. Cullen had to admit, he was fairly impressed that Mrs Cope hadn't brought her nosey fucking ass over to check out the noise that they had made.

He smiled to himself at the thought of her reaction if she had seen Bella on her knees with his cock in her mouth amongst the words of Wordsworth and Blake. _Goddamn._ The cock in question was suddenly, once more, on high fucking alert, pressing against his button fly, seeking Bella out. How was that even possible? He was convinced Bella would be the death of him, one way or another.

Thinking about it more though, persistent hard-ons may not have been a bad way to go, as long as the hard-ons were buried in Bella the entire time.

Cullen couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as he thought about taking Bella again. It was as much to do with need and yearning as it was to do with possessiveness and reminding her who she belonged to, which was an asshole thing to be thinking. The truth was Cullen couldn't help it. He had been left tired and incredulous about the reactions he had had over the news of Peter and Bella. And, thinking about it more as he tapped his pen tip against the wooden table, he realised he had scared himself.

He watched Bella carefully as she sat down and passed him his copy of the text, smiling tenderly at him as she did.

"You okay to read?" she asked with a nod towards the book.

"Yeah," Cullen croaked as he blinked out of his staring at her. "Sure, I'll read."

"Good," Bella answered. "You can class it as your punishment for being late."

Cullen knew she was teasing when he saw the sparkle in her eyes, but he felt the smile on his face was forced as he looked at her. He knew he had been late, but he really couldn't have given two shits. He was late because he had been frantic with fear and anger. She _had_ to know that, even if she _was_ joking.

He dropped his gaze from hers and began to read slowly and quietly. They didn't have many chapters to get through, and, as he read, Cullen couldn't help thinking how many aspects of his own life mirrored that of Hemingway's Frederic Henry - minus the war, of course. His lust for women as discard able objects and his arrogance and irrationality could all be considered as characteristics of Cullen, pre and, arguably, post Bella.

And, just like Henry, Cullen had found an incomprehensible peace in the arms of a beautiful woman.

"_I don't. I don't want anybody else to touch you. I'm silly. I get furious if they touch you." _

Yes, he and Henry had many things in common. Jealousy included.

"I have some assignment ideas for you," Bella said as she rifled through her bag once Cullen had gotten to the end of his reading. "I was thinking a comparison piece," she continued with her head now inside the fucking bag, "Wilfred Owen and Hemingway's views on war."

Her head snapped up and she smiled. "What do you think?" She blew a stray hair from off her face.

Cullen couldn't help but smile back at her. She was so passionate about her job and about his learning that it was almost like nothing had happened. Her resilience and understanding blew him away constantly, but also worried him to shit.

Had he not frightened her when he had grabbed her? He had been so out of line. He would never fucking hurt her intentionally, and yet, he knew that her back must have been tender.

_Fuck._

"I'm so sorry, Bella," he muttered as he whipped a hand through his hair, while keeping his eyes on the table between them.

Bella looked momentarily confused. "You don't like that idea? I know Owen can be depressing as all hell, but-…"

"No, dammit," Cullen interrupted, irritated. "Peaches, I don't give a fuck about Owen or fucking Hemingway." He saw her eyes flash with annoyance before he added: "What I _do_ give a fuck about is you."

She shook her head slowly. "What do you mean?"

Cullen clasped the bridge of his nose and grit is teeth. "I've just acted like a complete fucking animal with you and…" He gestured towards her with open palms. "And yet you're acting like nothing happened."

"Cullen."

"No," he snapped as he rubbed his face. "I was a fucking idiot and I hurt you and its fucking wrong, Bella."

Bella sat back leisurely into her seat with a cocked eyebrow while Cullen stared at her in disbelief.

"Are you finished?" she asked evenly.

Cullen shrugged and shook his head. He had a lot more to say, he just didn't know where to fucking start.

"Cullen," Bella started gently. "You said you wanted to stay and do our session. I asked if that was what you wanted and you said yes. That's what we're doing." She motioned towards the space between them. "We're teacher/student now. We'll talk later, at your place, when it's just you and me."

Cullen chewed on the inside of his mouth, suddenly ravenous for a fucking cigarette. "Were we teacher/student while you sucked me off?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, and he saw the flicker of annoyance and the flush of embarrassment on Bella's face, Cullen wanted to staple his fucking tongue to the desk.

"Fuck," he muttered as Bella stood and began throwing things into her bag. Hard. "I didn't mean that the way it came out."

"No," Bella snapped without looking at him. "You're right." Her voice grew quiet. "I shouldn't have done that. It was stupid and reckless."

Cullen stood slowly and approached Bella's side of the table. He reached out to touch her back but pulled his hand away at the last minute. Instead he shoved both hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. "I didn't mean that shit."

"I know," Bella answered as she pulled her bag onto her shoulder and made to move passed Cullen with her face turned towards the floor.

"Hey." His voice was firm but he knew that his face was as soft as he could make it as Bella looked up at him. Her eyes were hurt and angry. "I'm sorry." He lifted his hand from his pocket and let the tip of his index finger slide across her wrist while he took a step towards her.

"It was fucking amazing," he murmured as he felt her smooth skin against his. "And I know why you did it. Please, don't regret it. Okay?"

Bella's eyes flittered across his face. They looked confused and were outlined with hurt. "I don't regret it," she answered quickly but quietly. "But it wasn't…we could have been seen. I wasn't thinking."

"You were thinking about me?"

She nodded slowly and sighed. "I just wanted to show you…" She trailed off and licked her lips. "I needed you to know that Peter means _nothing_."

Cullen visibly tensed at the sound of his cousin's name, but the warmth of Bella's words seeped deep into him, erasing the sting of anger that threatened to rear once again. Bella looked away from him, away towards the door.

Did she regret saying that she would stay with him? Cullen felt his stomach drop. It annoyed him and fascinated him in equal measure: the power that the small woman before him wielded over him.

He stepped back and ran an agitated hand through his hair, "You still coming with me?"

He tried to make his voice sound slightly indifferent. He wasn't sure that he pulled it off and he wasn't exactly sure why he wanted it to sound that way in the first damn place. He didn't want to be indifferent with Bella. He wanted to be open and honest with her, but, the truth was, the whole episode with Peter had rattled the shit out of him, and was a vicious reminder of the hurt that he had opened himself up to, by having Bella in his life.

Bella pulled her bag up her shoulder as she looked at Cullen, taking in his chaotic hair and anxious posture. "I'd like to," she replied honestly. She paused and raised an eyebrow. "Is that okay?"

Cullen rubbed his chin as he nodded in response. "Yeah," he said before he cleared his throat of the relief that he felt. "That's okay."

"Good," she answered with a small smile. She looked at her watch and sighed. "I'll need to pick up some clothes from home first. Can I meet you there?"

Cullen smiled at her uncharacteristic nervousness. "Sure."

She smiled back and the moment immediately felt lighter. The walls around Cullen seemed to back off and the tension in his chest loosened infinitesimally. He took a much needed deep breath.

"I'll see you later then," Bella said while she tucked her hair behind her ears. She started to walk away from him, towards the exit.

"See you later," Cullen said softly, watching her backside for a few sublime seconds before he followed her out.

Cullen had showered, smoked four cigarettes, changed into grey sweats and a white t-shirt, and was on his second slice of pizza when a timid knock came from the door. He threw the remaining crust of his pizza back into the box and hurried across his apartment, feeling his heart pick up pace as he pulled the door back to reveal Bella with a large bag and a six pack of beer.

"I knew you were damn near fucking perfect," Cullen grinned as he took the beer and held the door open wider for her to enter.

Bella smiled coyly as she entered and made her way towards the breakfast bar. "You won't find me arguing with that."

"Of course not," Cullen muttered as he winked at her. "I ordered pizza," he said as he placed the beer at the side of the deep pan meat special, "You hungry?"

"Starved," she replied as she slipped the bag off of her shoulder and slowly lifted the box lid. "This smells amazing."

Cullen smiled and allowed his eyes to wander over her as she started to pull two pieces of pizza apart. Her hair was now in a twist at the nape of her neck, and the top that she was wearing was cut low enough to make his mouth dry. The deep blue of it made her skin look like cream and the dark jeans that she wore hugged her ass perfectly. Cullen had always thought she was sexy as hell in her teacher clothes, but honestly, her casual stuff was just as hot.

She was so fucking beautiful.

Before he could stop himself he had reached out and taken her small wrist in his hand, turning her around gently, and pulled her towards him.

He leaned down gradually, keeping his eyes on hers, and pressed his lips gently to her waiting mouth. He felt her relax and dissolve into him as soon as they touched, and he too felt the entire weight of the day start to lift from his weary shoulders as they moved tenderly against one another. As Bella kissed him back, and nibbled his bottom lip, Cullen moved his hand from her wrist, and travelled up her arm, across her shoulder, until he was cupping the side of her face. He moaned softly when the tips of their tongues met.

The kiss was slow and patient, and remained fairly chaste, but it still made Cullen hard as fuck and desperate for more. The grip that Bella had on the sides of his t-shirt old him that she felt the exact same way and it did nothing to douse the flames of lust that were licking under his skin.

He placed three slow kisses across her mouth before pulling back and resting his forehead to hers.

"Hey," he whispered as he rubbed his palms down her back and rested them on the curve of her ass.

"Hey," she replied as she moved to nuzzle his throat. "_You_ smell amazing too."

Cullen smiled into her hair as he felt her take a huge breath by his collarbone. Pulling his right arm from under hers, he wrapped it tightly around her tiny shoulders and pulled her even closer in a tight hug. He dropped his face to her neck and held her. He released a long, contented breath when he felt Bella's arms wrap around him and squeeze gently. Her palms were hot through his t-shirt as they came to a stop on his shoulder blades.

Cullen had never been much of a hugger. The only woman he had ever hugged was Rosalie, and those hadn't ever felt like the one he was currently sharing with Bella. He'd always viewed hugs as something other guys did: guys who were pathetic and pussy whipped, but, as he held Bella in his arms, he knew that, even if he was either of those, he loved having her close to him.

"Are you okay?" Bella whispered against his shoulder. Cullen nodded his head against her neck.

"I am now you're here," he replied in a low, sleepy voice as he lifted his head up to look at her. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for asking me."

Bella reached up, threading her fingers through his hair, and pulled his mouth back to hers. She was gentle and unhurried as her lips explored his and smiled when Cullen leaned forward for more as she pulled back. He couldn't help that shit. Her lips were fucking delicious.

Cullen swallowed and tried to control his breathing.

"I…I wanted to apologise for today," Bella said softly as she played with the hair on his chest that was visible at the neck of his t-shirt.

Cullen looked momentarily perplexed. "What the hell are _you _sorry for?"

He watched as her cheeks flushed a beautiful crimson and her top teeth nibbled her bottom lip.

"For what I did to you in the library," she looked up at him. "I really shouldn't have done that."

Cullen immediately felt his crotch start to come to life and tightened his grip on Bella's waist.

"Darlin', there really is _no_ need to apologise. It was fuck hot and without doubt the _best_ blow job of my life."

Bella laughed gently and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "You're welcome," she offered. "It was really hot…but it was also really stupid. You have to see that, Cullen. It was a risky thing to do."

Cullen looked down at her and saw the conflict in her wide brown eyes. "Yeah," he conceded. "I see what you mean."

"We have to be more careful," Bella said quietly. "_I _have to be more careful. I don't want either of us to get into trouble, and if Mrs Cope had seen-"

"She'd have had a fucking heart attack," Cullen interrupted with a chuckle. Bella couldn't help but smile, but it dropped quickly. Cullen sighed and held her close. "I understand, Bella. We need to be clear on boundaries."

"Yes," she replied with a long breath of relief.

"When we're in the library we behave."

"Exactly."

"No touching, kissing, fellatio, cunnilingus, fingering or jerking."

He laughed when Bella's hand slapped his chest. "Perv," she muttered with a smile.

Cullen laughed and bent down to her, pushing his tongue into her mouth, just to show her how much of a perv he really was. He smiled when she moaned into him and held his face tightly.

"Thank you," she muttered into his mouth.

"No problem," he replied as he rubbed his nose along hers. "I'm glad that you talked to me about it. I want you to tell me about shit that bothers you."

He paused as a low growl erupted from Bella's stomach. "Christ," he exclaimed, "You're_ really _hungry?"

"Mmhm," she answered as she glanced surreptitiously at the pizza box.

Cullen chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Have at it, baby." He gestured to the pizza and shook his head when, after skipping back to the breakfast bar, Bella took a colossal bite out of the first slice that she pulled out. He couldn't help but think how fucking refreshing it was to see a woman enjoy her food as apposed to the skinny bitches that nibbled at their grub like fucking mice.

Cullen pulled the caps off of two bottles of beer, and, with them balanced carefully in one hand, he grabbed the box of pizza and made his way to the living area. Like the children and the Pied Piper, Bella followed him with a piece of kitchen towel and a mouth full of dough and meat.

Cullen slouched against the leather and sipped from his beer as Bella continued to eat at the opposite end of the couch. She hummed and nodded in approval.

"This is epic," she mumbled with a mouth full.

Cullen snorted as he watched her lick cheese from her chin. "I'm glad you like it. If you were a fucking vegetarian I'd have to seriously rethink my sleep over proposal."

Bella laughed lightly. "I couldn't ever be a veggie," she said with a frown. "I like eating meat too much."

Cullen nearly spat his beer across the room, but managed to swallow before coughing violently.

Bella slapped his back while laughing. "You are such a _perv_."

"Me?" he asked incredulously as he tried to gain some sort of regularity in his breathing. "You're the one talking about eating fucking meat."

Bella looked up at him through her insanely long lashes and smirked playfully. "Don't pretend like you don't _love_ that I like 'eating meat'."

Cullen's cock nodded vigorously in agreement. Fuck yes, he loved it. Her mouth was fucking sublime.

Tongue tied, Cullen sipped from his beer while keeping his eyes fixed on the mouth in question, and exhaled down his nose as the image of her on her knees flashed before him. Without sounding like a chauvinistic, sexist prick, Cullen couldn't help but think how amazingly sexy she looked submitting to him in that way.

She had been all about pleasuring him; reassuring him, and making him forget the hurt that he felt. She was incredible. She was like no-one else he had ever met.

Bella had another two slices of pizza, leaving Cullen to finish the remaining four, and the two of them slumped lazily at both ends of the sofa, full and fairly content. Even though the silence they shared was comfortable, Cullen picked up the stereo remote from the coffee table and flicked on the CD. Muse filtered quietly from the speakers and Cullen relaxed back against the leather.

"So," Bella said cautiously as she fiddled with the paper label on her bottle of beer. "Are you gonna tell me what happened today?"

Cullen grimaced and rubbed his palm down the side of his face.

"You said you would," she coaxed further.

"I know," Cullen answered quickly, keeping his gaze on his chest. "It's just," he sighed and shook his head as he searched for the right words. "I'm still fucking pissed, you know?"

Bella nodded and smiled gently. "But, Cullen, I'd like to know what he said. He upset you and that makes _me_ pissed."

Cullen looked up at her to see a spark of anger in her dark eyes. His heart gave a small shiver and his lips twitched in a smile at the tenacity and spirit in the woman before him. He had told her that he would explain. That was why she was there. Well, partly. Cullen hoped that the main reason Bella was in his apartment was because she wanted to spend the night with him just as much as he wanted her to.

He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Peter and I," he began as he readjusted his position on the sofa. "We never got along, even when we were kids. Jasper and I are closer in age so, when we ever did see each other, we'd play together and have fun."

Cullen pushed a nervous hand once more through his hair and tapped his long index finger against the neck of his beer bottle.

"Their mom was my mom's older sister, she married Robert Whitlock, and, because Peter was the first born boy in the family, he was automatically seen as the one to take over the company from our grandfather. He was groomed for it and became cocky and arrogant. Even at the age of fifteen he was a fucking smart mouthed prick."

Cullen paused and finished his beer in one large gulp and stood silently to retrieve another. He brought four back and placed two in front of Bella who had remained quiet and attentive.

"I remember one particular day," he continued as he sat back down, "When my mom had taken me from my dad for the weekend. We were at my grandparent's house which was a fucking nightmare anyway because my grandfather couldn't stand the sight of me."

Cullen shook his head and smiled humourlessly as he lit a cigarette.

"My grandmother was completely different," he said as he blew the smoke from down his nose. "She was pretty cool. She would bake cookies and buy me really awesome presents for Christmas and birthdays. She was the reason why we spent so much time at their house. My mom would pretty much dump me there and go and do whatever the fuck it was she did, and my grandmother and I would hang out.

"Peter and Jasper were there." Cullen scratched his head as he tried to recollect. "I think it was Thanksgiving, maybe? And Peter started on me the minute he came in the house. He was a smart motherfucker, because he was never obvious with his taunts and his little comments about how I wasn't wanted, how he had heard from my aunt that I was a disappointment to the whole family. He was pretty relentless, you know. Jasper, he would never say anything, but he wouldn't ever tell Peter to back off. He just stood there like a fucking pussy, not saying a word."

Cullen thought back to the afternoon in Peter's office and smiled wryly to himself when he remembered Jasper's lack of input, "Nothing fucking changes."

"The little comments about my father and me, and the fact that I was more or less a dirty little secret, went on for the whole weekend. And eventually I snapped." Cullen looked up at Bella to see her wrapping her arms around her legs.

"I punched him in the face. He hit the floor like a fucking ton of bricks. But I couldn't stop. I just saw red. I punched, smacked, kicked at him, and the whole time, all I could think was that I wanted him to hurt just as much as I did.

"My grandfather pulled me off of him and he got a couple of slaps too for his troubles. Until he slapped me back. Right across the face. He said I was the biggest mistake in Masen family history; that I should have been aborted, and that I would do nothing but bring shame on the entire family. Just like I had done since the day I was conceived."

"Cullen," Bella whispered as she edged towards him, placing her hand on his ankle. Cullen swallowed down the anger that threatened to spill and allowed the warmth from her palm to seep deep into him.

He took a deep drag from his smoke. "My grandmother went bat shit crazy." Cullen laughed lightly. "I think I get my temper from her." Bella smiled. "She pulled me from him and took me out in the car." He paused. "She cried. I remember that she cried and apologised over and over. I didn't know why she was apologising. _She_ hadn't done anything wrong."

Cullen looked down at his hands and shook his head. "I hated seeing her cry."

Bella frowned slightly above glistening eyes and licked her lips. "How old were you?"

"Six."

Cullen cleared his throat and took a long slug from his beer before extinguishing his cigarette. He never heard Bella's soft words of 'I'm so sorry' as he did.

"Within three years my mom was dead," he continued indifferently. "And I was being sent to boarding school via my mother's wishes in her will. My father, the fucking ass, he just went along with it…" Cullen trailed off, not wanting to go down that particular road tonight.

He was still receiving calls from him and Cullen was still ignoring them. He just wished that Carlisle Cullen would fuck off already.

"Peter went to law school and I was thrown out of most of the school's that I went to. I hated every fucking minute because they treated me like a fucking idiot. Every school knew the family background and were told to keep it quiet; less gossip for the family. I didn't care. If I wasn't thrown out of school, I ran away.

"The older I got the more I came to understand that if I made a big enough noise, caused more shit, the more likely it was that the truth about who I was, and where I came from, would come out, and the Masen's would have to deal with me instead of shipping me off in the hopes that I'd never fucking come back."

Bella's hand rubbed circles on Cullen's calf as she listened to his every word, feeling her heart break wide open for the small boy within the man before her.

"By the time I hit graduation, I'd been arrested too many times to count: possession of pot, possession with intent to deal, property damage, fighting, possession of a dangerous weapon, joy riding."

Cullen looked sheepishly at the half empty beer in his hands. It was strange confessing so much to his Bella, especially when she looked back at him with no judgement or disappointment.

"In his wisdom, my grandfather decided that Peter should be my lawyer."

Bella sat back in surprise, shaking her head in confusion.

"Fucked up, right?" Cullen sniggered as he lit another smoke. "His theory was, was that if Peter was my lawyer then they could keep my 'indiscretions' on the down low, much more than if it was someone else."

He scrunched his nose and bit his lip in aggravation. "They were all about fucking show, Peaches, about keeping _me_ hidden. Ironically, all their secrecy did was make me more determined to act like what they expected since the day I was born.

"I think I'm what you might call a self fulfilling prophecy." He smiled wryly and took another drink. Bella moved closer to him and rested her hand on his knee, never stopping the soothing circles that she was making.

"When I was arrested the last time, I should have gotten five years, minimum." Cullen looked at Bella and blew the smoke lazily through his lips. "I was caught with a brick of coke."

She inhaled slowly and nodded. Her eyes never left his, and her hand never paused on his thigh. It was the first time he had told her why he was in Arthur Kill and the relief that came over him when she remained by his side was almost overwhelming. He had told her worse things, of course, but the fear that resided inside of Cullen that Bella would, eventually, become disgusted by him, or see that she could do better than his ex-con ass, was forever at the forefront of Cullen's mind.

"Peter fought hard for my conviction to be overturned. He tried every lawyer trick in the book, and I'm pretty sure that he made some back street deals to keep my offence quiet. I'll give him one thing; he's a stubborn, determined son of a bitch."

Bella smiled gently and sipped her beer.

"In the end, I was in and out of court for the best part of two years. I was tagged, put on curfew and other bullshit until the judge eventually gave in. He sentenced me to twenty-four months. I'm sure the family had plenty to do with the briefness of my conviction. Whether Peter ever kept the reason why I was in Arthur Kill quiet, I still don't know."

Bella ran a hand through her hair and moved closer to Cullen. She was now sitting between his legs with her back against his left leg and the sofa and Cullen's right leg on her lap.

"All that to keep the reputation of a business clean?" she asked in disbelief.

Cullen nodded and threw his smoke into the ashtray. "Yeah," he replied and let his hand cup the back of her elbow. His thumb rubbed against her skin gently.

"I don't know…how he was with you, Bella," Cullen said as he swallowed his jealousy and rage down. "But Peter Whitlock is a nasty, nasty piece of work. He's selfish and greedy. He wants my shares…and…" Cullen paused and felt his stomach twist in fear.

"What?" Bella asked in concern as she placed her hand on his chest. "What is it?"

"I know him, Bella," he answered in a quiet voice. "He'll stop at nothing; he'll try everything, to get me to sign my shares over." Cullen lifted his hand and tucked Bella's hair behind her ear. "He'll even use you."

Bella's eyes widened. "Why would he use me?"

Cullen smiled at her obliviousness. "He still wants you, Bella. I could see it in his eyes. The way he spoke about you, and he knows that there's…something between us." Cullen let his fingers dance leisurely down Bella's neck, to her shoulder and down her arm.

Bella's eyes drifted closed, but she managed to ask: "What did he say? Should we be worried?"

Cullen pulled his hand away with a sigh and reached for his beer while he shook his head.

"I don't think so. He was just riling me, Bella, like he always has. I'm pretty sure Alice and Jasper have told him about what happened in Chicago with you and your mother. Jasper looked like he was about to wet his fucking pants. _Pussy. _Peter told me about your…dates…how he cooked you dinner." Cullen felt his hand tighten around his bottle.

"He …made a couple of comments that…suggested….that you and he…were…intimate." Cullen felt his throat close around the last word.

"He's a goddamn liar," Bella said firmly as she touched Cullen's chin. "It never went further than a kiss." Cullen's face pinched. "I couldn't let it go further." Bella's face contorted in anger. "I can't believe he'd say that to you."

"He was looking for something to latch onto, Bella," Cullen explained. "Like a fucking blood sucking tic, he wanted a reaction from me so that he could get me over a barrel." He paused and let his eyes roam over Bella's face.

"He still thinks you're dating," Cullen bit out as he moved his legs from around her and sat forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He heard her sigh.

"Technically we are," Bella replied. Cullen's head snapped to her; rage clear in his eyes. "We were never exclusive," she added quickly. "But we never ended it either."

"Fucking perfect," Cullen snarled as he clapped his hands together. "Motherfucker wants my money and is dating my woman. This day just keeps getting fucking better and better."

Cullen dropped his head and gripped his hair in his fists. He should have killed the prick while he had the chance.

"He wants your money?" Bella asked timidly, well aware of the knife edge that Cullen's temper was teetering on.

"Of course he wants my fucking money, Bella" he snapped. "I'm worth half a billion dollars and I own half of the company he was groomed to take over. Fucker wants it so bad he can taste it. You know he tried to buy me out today? Offered me twenty million," Cullen snorted in derision. "Piss poor fucking offer. I've never been so fucking insulted."

He grappled for his smokes and lit another.

"You told him no," Bella said as she placed herself next to him.

"Fucking obviously," he snarled sarcastically. He gritted his teeth when he felt her move away from him slightly. _Shit._

"Sorry," he muttered as he rubbed his right eyebrow with the tip of his index finger. "It's just-"

"I know," Bella answered quickly without looking at him. "I get it."

Cullen dropped his smoke into the ashtray and turned towards her. "No," he croaked through a plume of smoke. "You _don't_ get it, Bella."

She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for his dumb fucking ass to put her in the picture.

"The money, Bella," he said with a shrug. "I couldn't give two shits about. I never did. But it's the general fucking principle of the entire situation." He shifted towards her. "To finally have something over the piece of shit who made my life hell when I was younger, who always, always thought he was better than me…I can't help but enjoy that shit. To see his ass squirm is…very fucking entertaining."

Bella nodded but kept her eyes down. Cullen exhaled and rubbed his chest where a small ache had begun to develop.

"But to hear him talk about _you_ that way…" Cullen pressed his lips together into a thin line of wrath and hate, "To hear him make suggestions that you had…_been_ with him…that way, Bella." He gripped his hair and moaned. "Fuck, it nearly ripped me apart."

Bella's face collapsed and she made to move towards him. Cullen held up his hand to stop her.

"I know I'm an asshole, Bella," he murmured. "I behaved like a fucking idiot with you in the library today. I would never, ever hurt you, and I know that I did when I grabbed you and pushed you, and I'm so fucking sorry."

Bella shook her head. "It's okay."

"No, it's _not_," Cullen countered in irritation. "Shit, baby, nothing excuses that kind of behaviour. _Nothing_."

"Then learn to control it," Bella said pointedly.

Cullen looked at her in surprise and incredulity. If only the shit was that fucking easy. He smiled in defeat and looked down at his bare feet.

"I _have_ no control with you," he whispered.

It was true. Anyone or anything that threatened his Peaches, his Bella, would severely regret it. Like the day that he had beaten a crying, twelve year old Peter, he would never stop. He would do all he could to protect her. _Even if it meant doing more time_. As long as she was safe and his, nothing would stand in his way.

Cullen felt Bella move over to him and closed his eyes when her nose met the crook of his neck and took a deep breath of him. Her hand rubbed up the centre of his back and her lips briefly touched the edge of his jaw. It burned. It burned lust and passion and Cullen was helpless against it.

"You didn't hurt me," she said into his skin. "And Peter means nothing to me." Cullen felt her grip on him tighten, "Nothing."

Cullen nodded, but the unease and the jealousy inside of him were relentless and would not disappear. He lifted his left arm and wrapped it around her, pulling her closer so that he could dip his nose into her hair. She smelled amazing. He wanted the smell and touch of her to extinguish his fear of losing her.

"I don't like that he upset you," Bella said as her lips moved along his neck. "I don't like that he was a cruel bastard to you when you were just a six year old little boy."

Cullen moaned deep in his throat when Bella's tongue flicked at his ear lobe.

"And I don't like that he fucking lied to you and made you doubt my feelings for you."

Her tone told Cullen that she was serious. She _was_ pissed, and her fierce protectiveness made his cock throb. _Goddamn it._ He'd only been inside of her once. One perfect, exquisite time, and he was now desperate be there again, to feel her and her wet heat. Her mouth was perfect, but her pussy was out of this world.

Cullen sat back, taking Bella by surprise, and lifted her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. He didn't hesitate to pull her face to his and capture her beautiful lips with his own. She moaned as he held her by the jaw while they kissed deep and long and wet. Her tongue tasted like beer, pizza and Bella, and almost made Cullen cum on the spot.

Her hands were in his hair, pulling and massaging his scalp in the most sensual way. And when she lowered herself onto his crotch and swivelled her hips, Cullen gasped her name and grabbed at her thighs.

"Jesus," he groaned into her mouth, feeling her smile over his lips. Finding her smugness a complete and utter turn-on, Cullen lifted his own hips and thrust upwards.

"Shit," Bella moaned as her head fell back. Cullen knew she'd be able to feel his rigid dick perfectly through his sweat pants as he dropped his mouth to her throat and thrust again. "Oh God, you're so hard."

Cullen smiled. "I always am for you, Peaches," he replied as his teeth skimmed her jaw. "Goddamn it, you drive me and my cock fucking insane, woman."

Cullen muffled Bella's laugh with his mouth and sucked her tongue hard. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as he wound his around her waist, holding her as close as he could as their mouths tugged, licked and pressed into one another. His hands found their way up the back of her top and he hummed when he felt her soft skin and spine under his calloused palms. She was so delicate under his touch and he quickly pulled his mouth from hers and dropped his forehead to her collarbone.

"You know I wouldn't ever hurt you on purpose, Bella, don't you?" he said through deep panting breaths.

He felt her become still in his arms and his head was suddenly being lifted by her small fingers under his stubbled chin.

"You didn't hurt me," she urged when their eyes met. "Sweetheart, my back is fine."

The fact that she knew what he was worried about didn't surprise him at all.

"I pushed you-…"

"You took me by surprise," she interrupted. "But you _didn't_ hurt me."

Cullen let his hand meander across the top of the waist band of her jeans, and the curves of her back, watching her face for any signs of tenderness. He saw only reassurance.

"Did I scare you?" he asked in an almost whisper.

Aside from losing her or hurting her, scaring his Bella was Cullen's biggest fear. The way that she had always stood up to him and taken none of his bullshit had always been so sexy to him. Her fire was what set _him_ alight and if he ever discovered that he had extinguished that in any way, he would never forgive him self.

Bella shook her head and ran her fingertips through his hair. "You didn't." She smiled playfully. "I'm not scared of you."

Cullen smiled back, but it didn't last as long as he'd hoped. "You're lucky," he said as he kissed the skin that was visible above the V of her top, right in the valley between her breasts.

"Why?" she asked curiously.

Cullen looked up at the beautiful woman in his arms and let the back of his fingers trace the length of her cheekbone, "Because, Bella, _you_ scare me to death."

The expression on Bella's face changed at the speed of light. First there was shock, then frustration, then tenderness and then lust. She leaned down slowly and gave Cullen a soft languid kiss that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He exhaled down his nose and melted into her.

"Don't be scared of me," she murmured when their lips separated briefly. "I would never hurt you, Cullen." She cupped his face in her palms. "I swear to you."

Cullen nodded but kept his eyes down.

"You do believe me, right?"

Cullen held her hands in his. "I'm trying," he said in a voice that sounded irritatingly desperate. "I'm trying, Bella, but you have to understand I don't _trust_ anyone. My whole life, people I care about have let me down and shit on me. It makes a person hard faced and angry. It's made _me_ hard faced and angry." He pushed Bella's hair back from her face.

"But you've gotten under my skin, baby," he confessed. "And it scares the shit out of me. I trust you, with my life, and that's a big fucking deal. But the angry part of me can't help but wait for the bubble to fucking burst."

Bella shushed him and nuzzled his cheek. "It won't. I won't let it, Cullen."

"But Peter and your mother," Cullen ranted with a hint of panic.

"Forget my mother," Bella spat while her eyes blazeed with anger. "_I'll_ deal with her. As for Peter…"

"What?" Cullen asked as Bella trailed off and began to finger the neck of his t-shirt.

"Maybe _I_ should talk to him."

Cullen's entire body went rigid and a burning flash of white heat shot through his chest.

"No fucking way," he growled pulling Bella closer to him in an instinctively possessive move. "You're not going anywhere near that motherfucker. No way."

Bella sighed, "Cullen, I-…"

"I fuckin' said _no_, Bella!" Cullen's voice boomed around the apartment. He hadn't shouted but he had been loud enough to shut Bella the hell up.

Cullen's heart beat thundered in his ears. "I…I don't want him near you, or fuckin' talking to you," he said with a long breath as he stared at her stunned face. "_I'll_ deal with him."

The panic and dread that filled Cullen's body at the thought of Bella going to see Peter took his breath away. Couldn't she see that that was what the fucker wanted? He wanted her alone so that he could piss poison into her ear and take her away from him. _No._ Over his dead fucking body.

"Okay," Bella whispered as her palm touched Cullen's left cheek. His grip on her was nearly painful, and she could see the rage and terror in his eyes. She immediately felt awful for suggesting such a thing. "Okay. I'm sorry." She leaned forward and pecked his unresponsive lips. "It was just an idea, baby, I'm sorry."

She kissed the corners of his mouth and his cheeks as she murmured her apologies. Very slowly Cullen came back to her and kissed her back, tentatively.

"I hate him," he growled as their lips met again. "I fucking hate him, Bella."

"I know," she replied as she held him close, willing his anger and fear away. "I know. It was a stupid idea."

"You're mine," Cullen insisted as he sat forward with Bella still on his lap. "You're fucking mine, Bella. _My_ Peaches," he leaned her back and buried his face between her tits making her moan. "Say it."

"Yours," Bella purred as she rubbed her face into his hair.

"Don't forget that, Bella. I'm the only one, who makes you feel this way; who gets to have you and touch you this way. No one is allowed to do this but me."

He pushed the tip of his finger against the seam of her jeans between her legs and grunted when she bucked in his arms and simultaneously rubbed his cock with her ass.

"Do I make you wet, Bella?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me, Bella?"

"Yes."

"Where do you want me, Bella?"

"Fucking everywhere."

"Who makes you feel this way, Bella?"

"You do."

Cullen gripped the sides of her top in his fists and yanked it over her head. He cursed when she did the same to him, and, once he was free of his t-shirt, he pressed his mouth to her right nipple through the sheer lace fabric of her bra. It puckered instantly and the sound that came from Bella's throat as he took it between his lips was fucking awesome.

She had sucked his cock to remind him who he belonged to, now it was his turn to remind her. _Mine._ Bella's bra was unclipped quickly and Cullen went to work sucking, lapping and teasing her tits and nipples.

"Fuck, you're so good at that," she gasped before biting down on her bottom lip.

"You like my tongue, baby girl?" he asked as he flicked the tip across her nipple once more.

"God, yes."

"Do you think your pussy would like my tongue?"

"Shit," she purred as her eyes widened. "I…I don't know."

Cullen smiled into her sternum and gripped her ass. "You don't know?"

Bella fidgeted in his lap. "No-one has ever…"

Cullen cock punched against the fabric of his sweat pants and a guttural moan erupted from his chest. He licked all the way up between her tits and along her throat until he reached her mouth and ravaged the hell out of that shit.

"No one has ever licked your pussy?" he groaned as he buried his hands into her hair.

She shook her head as she panted in his face. "No-one ever offered."

"Fucking insane motherfuckers," Cullen grumbled as he kissed her again and stood up from the sofa with her still wrapped around him. He turned around and laid Bella back down gently, moaning when she pulled her nails down his shoulder blades.

"Your beautiful pussy is not gonna know what the fuck hit it," he mumbled into her neck as he ground his cock into her.

"Promises, promises," Bella teased as she bit down on his neck.

Cullen lifted and pushed his hips into hers making her groan. He dropped his chin and eyed her with a warning flash of his eyes. "Oh, sweetheart, you really shouldn't have said that."

He popped the button of her jeans and smirked when she writhed for more contact. He dropped his mouth to her ear and slowly began to torment her.

"I'm gonna make you _beg_ for my mouth, baby."

"Mmhm."

"And when I finally let my tongue touch your clit, you're gonna scream my name so loud that the fucking walls will shake."

"Is that so?"

"You bet your fine ass."

"Confident aren't you, Mr. Cullen?"

Cullen smirked down at her and ground his cock into her heat again. "Give me your tongue."

"My tongue?"

"_Now_."

Bella smiled and rotated her hips against Cullen's before she poked her tongue out from between her lips.

"More," he ordered as he licked her chin. Bella obeyed. _Goddamn sexy._

As slowly as he could, Cullen let his tongue meander up the underside of hers before he sucked the tip of it into his mouth while simultaneously grinding in patient, deep thrusts. Bella groaned and pushed her hands into his hair as he flicked at her tongue like it was her clit.

"So sweet," he whispered as he sucked once more. "I bet your pussy tastes just like peaches."

"Fuck," Bella whimpered as his mouth continued to slowly fuck her tongue.

Cullen pulled the zip on Bella's jeans down and let his finger tips dance precariously close to the elastic band of her panties. She arched into him making him chuckle.

"Patience, Bella," he hummed. "And keep that tongue there."

He moved his mouth back to her tits and cupped and kneaded them as he devoured her sweet skin. He kissed her sternum and licked down to her belly button where he couldn't resist but stick his tongue right into it.

"Unf," was the response he got when he did it again.

He pushed his right hand between her legs and pushed against the denim, feeling her heat instantly.

"I can't wait to put my tongue right. In. There," he growled as he kissed her stomach that tensed beneath his lips, and pushed between her legs with every word.

"Yes, Cullen," she gasped. "Take them off."

He smirked when he watched her start to push at her own jeans, desperate to be naked.

"Hold on now," he teased as he gripped her wrists in his hand. "Just wait."

"No!" she retorted with sass and a flick of her hair. "No _'hold on now'_. I want you now. I've been wet and horny as shit since I sucked your perfect hard cock into my mouth in the middle of a public library, and I need you to fuck me. You can use either your tongue or your dick, but I need you now. So don't tell me to fucking _wait_!"

Cullen blinked down at her for a couple of seconds and felt his mouth go instantly dry as every bit of moisture in his body flew directly to his cock.

"Holy fucking shit, Bella," he moaned through his teeth as he grabbed at the belt loops of the jeans and ripped them down her legs. He dropped heavily on top of her and kissed the hell out of her sexy, dirty, smart ass, demanding mouth.

She pushed her hands down into his pants and he hissed like crazy when she gripped him in her small palm. "Ah, yes," he cried out as she began to jerk him, "Dammit, woman!"

Shoving her panties out of the way, Cullen let his fingers push between her bare pussy lips and started to rub her hot swollen clit.

"Fuck, yes!" Bella yelled as she arched and thrust up to meet his touch. Her hands gripped the tops of his arms, holding onto him for dear life.

"Like that, baby?" he asked as he kissed her neck and slipped two fingers into her. He growled into her skin. "So fucking wet for me."

"Yes, oh, Christ, I'm so close already…Edward, I'm…fuck, I need you, fuck!"

"I want to taste you so much." Cullen's fingers slammed into her while his thumb rubbed her clit.

"I'm gonna eat that pussy so good, Bella," he whispered in her ear and groaned as she screamed out his name and came with the force of a fucking wild stampede. Her back arched and her eyes clamped shut while her pussy clenched like fuck around his fingers.

"So fucking beautiful," Cullen grunted as he kissed the sparkles of sweat on the side of her face while her thrusting hips slowed and she gradually returned to earth. "I love watching you cum," he murmured into her cheek.

Bella hummed and licked her lips. "Holy hell, I needed that," she panted, moaning gently when Cullen removed his fingers. "Thank you."

She watched entranced as he sucked them into his mouth. Cullen's eyes rolled into the back of his head at her sweet taste.

"De-fuckin-licious," he smiled before he kissed her.

"Yes, you are," she giggled. She looked up at him and shook her head in wonder. "You are so fucking sexy."

Cullen rolled his eyes and smirked as he dropped his head to hers. "I know," he mumbled into her neck. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Anything," Bella whispered.

"If you think I'm sexy," Cullen mused as his hands rubbed over her ass and down her thighs. "Does that mean I can fuck you now?"

Bella laughed loudly making Cullen smile. It was the most amazing sound to him and she looked goddamn gorgeous too.

"Sexy _and_ romantic," she sniggered. "What _did_ I do to deserve you?"

"Dunno," Cullen replied noncommittally as he went to work once again on her luscious tits. "But it must have been something fairly fucking spectacular."

He suddenly felt her hand run gently across the side of his face as she whispered: "No doubt."

Cullen looked up at her and what he saw made his heart stutter. Her eyes were bright and shining and her lips were swollen and red from their kisses. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was fucking wild. She was breathtaking.

"What?" she asked softly as he moved up her body, his eyes burning into hers.

He kissed her soundly, pulling away as her tongue flicked at his mouth.

"You're just…" Cullen shook his head and blew a breath through his pursed lips. "You…you just make me feel so fucking good."

Bella smiled up at him and cupped his face. "Good."

Cullen bent down and kissed her again. He would never get enough of her. He kissed her soft and wet and firm and chaste, and before long the two of them were once again wrapped around each other, panting and groaning, and fighting with Bella's panties and his sweat pants in an effort to be completely naked.

Cullen's sweat pants were at his knees and his cock was rubbing Bella's wet pussy when a loud knocking began at his apartment door.

The couple froze on the sofa and stared at each other as though waiting for the answer to who the interrupting fucker was. Cullen glanced over his shoulder and scowled at the door.

…_the fuck?_

"Are you expecting company?" Bella whispered as she held onto his waist.

Cullen frowned and shook his head. "No. My appointment with Garrett and Charlotte are tomorrow and Wednesday."

It remained silent for a beat.

"Maybe they'll go away," Cullen hedged.

The banging began again in earnest. It was relentless and really fucking loud. And then Cullen's phone burst into life. He groaned and cursed when he saw the name on the screen.

"Fuck it."

"What?"

"It's Jake."

Without any further explanation, Cullen lifted up off Bella and passed her, her bra and jeans. "If I don't answer, he'll use his fucking key. I don't want him to fucking see you like this. Fuck that."

Faster than he expected, Cullen watched Bella throw on her bra and top, and pull on her panties and jeans with the boots that she had kicked off. She straightened her hair and adjusted herself as she tried to look like she hadn't just been molested by the hottest man she had ever met and had one of the best orgasms of her life.

Cullen grumbled and cursed and pulled on his t-shirt as Jake began shouting.

"Open the fucking door, prick. I know you're in there, I can hear your cell. Whoever she is, put her the fuck down, and let me in. Don't make me use my key."

Cullen grimaced at Jake's words and looked apologetically at Bella who smiled timidly. She looked fucking petrified.

"He's my best friend," he explained in a hushed voice. "He's okay, but I don't think we should…" He gestured with a wave of his hand to the space between them.

Bella nodded. "Sure," she agreed, "Whatever you think."

"I'm sorry." Cullen bent down and kissed her softly before, just as Jake began to pummel the door further, he ran across the apartment and pulled the fucker open.

"Jesus, dude, watch the fucking wood work," Cullen slid his hand down the door checking for damage

Jake rolled his eyes and pushed past Cullen and into the apartment. "If you weren't so busy whacking off I wouldn't have had to-…"

He stopped when he saw a petite brunette perched on the edge of Cullen's sofa. "Um…I didn't know you had…company?" Jake turned to Cullen and eyed him carefully.

"Yeah, um, Jake, this is Miss Isabella Swan, my tutor." He fidgeted a little under Jake's intense gaze as he introduced them across the room. "Miss Swan, this is Jacob Black."

Bella stood and wiped her palms discreetly down her jeans. She walked over to Jake and held her hand out, "Nice to meet you."

Jake paused for a split second before he took her hand. "Likewise I'm sure."

He glanced over at Cullen who was running his hands through his hair. "So what is this?" He said sarcastically as he took in the beer bottles and pizza box, "Home study group?"

"Jake," Cullen warned.

"Actually it is," Bella chirped with another breathtaking smile. Jake looked completely taken aback at the sass in the tiny woman's tone.

"Cullen had a meeting this afternoon that ran over so we agreed to meet here instead of losing time at the library."

Cullen smiled to himself before raising his eyebrows at Jake's less than convinced expression.

"How nice," Jake offered as he pulled a beer from the fridge. He popped the cap and took a sip. "So, have you finished your 'study group'?"

"Not quite."

"Yes."

Jake looked between Cullen and Bella as they spoke at the same time.

"We've covered everything we need to today and the rest we'll complete on Wednesday," Bella added as she looked back at Cullen. She nodded infinitesimally and smiled gently.

"But I thought you wanted to analyse Hemingway some more?" Cullen asked as he slipped his hands into his pockets and shifted from foot to foot. "I'm sure Jake can tell me whatever he needs to over the phone later." He made a point of stating each word with wide eyes in his friend's direction.

"Actually this shit can't wait, Cullen."

Cullen sighed and shook his head as he watched Bella grab her stay over bag.

"It's no problem," she said gently as she walked past him towards the door. "Goodbye," she nodded towards Jake who smiled and lifted his beer in reply.

"Fuck," Cullen murmured under his breath as he walked behind Bella to the door.

Jake slumped down onto the sofa, out of ear shot, and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, rummaging for any pizza left-overs.

"You don't have to go," Cullen whispered to Bella as he stood halfway out of the door. His chest felt exceedingly weird at the thought of her leaving: tight and hollow. He didn't like it one bit.

"It's alright," Bella replied tenderly. "I think your friend would rather I go."

"Fuck him," Cullen snapped. "I don't want you to go, baby." He frowned in helplessness. "I want you stay with me."

Bella smiled and rubbed the back of his hand. "I know, but we can do it another time."

Cullen scowled and glanced behind himself into the apartment. He exhaled and rubbed his hands down his face.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I really didn't know he was comin'. He hardly ever fucking comes over."

Cullen hit the heel of his hand against the door frame in aggravation.

"Don't worry," Bella eased. "He obviously needs you."

"_I_ need _you_."

Bella's heart fluttered. "Me too, but we'll get there." She pulled her bag further up her shoulder and turned to go.

"Can I call you later?"

She turned back to him with a small grin, "Of course. You can call me whenever you want."

"Text me when you get home," Cullen said with no hint of joking.

"I will," she answered before placing a soft kiss at the side of Cullen's mouth that made him want to kick Jacob Black's ass the fuck across Manhattan. He cupped her face and held her against his own for one split second. _Stay._

"See you later," she whispered. And with that she was gone.

Cullen grumbled under his breath and exploded back into his apartment, slamming the door hard behind him.

"What the fuck, Black?" he seethed with his hands on his hips. "You never heard of a fucking phone?"

"Oh, chill the fuck out, man," Jake retorted with an eye roll. "I thought you'd be happy about missing some Literature time, or should I say Cliterature time?"

Cullen growled as Jake snorted pathetically at his own lame ass joke. "It's not fucking like that."

"Sure, sure," Jake smiled with a knowing wink. "If you haven't boned already you're fucking desperate to, man. It's written the fuck all over you. Not that I blame you. _Damn_."

"Whatever, Jake, the point is _you_ interrupted a session that may affect _my_ parole. By law I have to have six hours a week with her."

He pointed to the door that Bella had just walked out of but kept his eyes on Jake's. Jake looked instantly contrite.

"I…I'm sorry, man, truly, I didn't know that it was that important. I thought you two were just fucking about in here."

"Well, you thought fucking wrong." Cullen knew he should have felt guilty for lying to his friend about why he was so pissed, but he didn't give a shit. "And you didn't have to be such a dick to her either."

Jake held his hands up in surrender. "My bad, man. I just fucking hate teachers. Even fuck hot ones like her." He glanced at the door. "Fuck, her ass is awesome. You know, like, peachy."

Cullen held his snarl and clenched his fists in his pockets. "Whatever," he hissed.

He stomped across his apartment and grabbed a beer quickly from the fridge, dropping down next to Jake on the sofa, wishing to hell that it was Bella instead. _Fuck, why did he have to be here tonight?_

"So what the hell is so important that you nearly beat my fucking door down?" he barked.

Jake paused and blew out a long breath as he pushed his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He handed it to Cullen and ran his hands through his hair. Cullen unfolded the paper and frowned at the words he saw:

_**Happy Halloween from Bar Aro**_

"What the fuck is this?" he asked as he waved it back at Jake.

"Paul went to Aro's today, right?"

Cullen nodded cautiously as a sick feeling twisted through his stomach. "Did something go wrong?"

Jake shook his head. "No, but…He saw _her_."

_Vanessa._ Cullen took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Did she speak to him?"

"No. She gave him that as he was leaving." He nodded towards the paper, "Secretly. She pushed that shit into his hand like a fucking covert agent or something."

Cullen re-read the note and shrugged in confusion. "Why the hell would she do that?"

Jake grabbed Cullen's smokes and pulled one out. He lit it quickly and took a huge drag. "I think she wants to meet me there."

Cullen's eyes widened. "How the fuck do you figure that?"

"Think about it, man. It's Halloween on Friday and Bar Aro is hosting a huge Halloween party by invitation only." He pulled out two tickets from the back pocket of his jeans. "Rosalie gave us these."

"Us?" Cullen asked sceptically, feeling an uneasy feeling slither up the centre of his chest.

"Yeah, dude, you and me," Jake answered as though Cullen was stupid. "Rosalie has a shit load more, got them through her work or some shit. All the boys are coming and some of the girls, but I need _you_ there. I couldn't give a shit about the rest of them. You're the only fucker I trust to cover my back."

Cullen stared at his friend for an age before he pulled out his own smoke. "Shit, Jake, I don't know."

"What don't you know?" Jake snapped.

Cullen bristled at his tone. "Do you know how fucking dangerous this shit is?" He pointed to the invitations with his cigarette between his fingers. "Not to mention the fact that this is all just conjecture at this point. I mean, what the fuck happens if she doesn't turn up?"

"She will."

"How do you know, Jake?"

"Because I know _her_! She wants to see me. She wants to talk and I _have_ to be there."

Cullen shook his head and groaned in annoyance. "And what if one of Aro's butt fuckers sees you, huh?"

Jake smiled slyly. "It's Halloween, dickhead. I'll be wearing a costume."

"Dickhead?" Cullen scoffed. "The only dickhead I see here is you."

"Is that right?" Jake fumed.

"Yeah, that's right," Cullen retorted quickly as he turned to face Jake. "You're fucking insane. Have you forgotten what Aro said to you if you ever went near his daughter again? Or do you really have that short of a memory?"

"No, I didn't fucking forget," Jake scoffed. "The cocksucker had a gun to my head."

"Yeah, he did," Cullen countered loudly, "And yet, here you are wanting to follow some fucking stupid message, and risk getting your ass killed."

"I don't give a shit. I _have_ to be there."

"Why!"

"Because I fucking love her, man!"

Cullen's mouth clamped shut as Jacob's words echoed around the apartment. The look on his face was one that Cullen hadn't seen for a long time. It was desperate, angry and laced with a sadness that Jake only ever showed his best friend. Cullen suddenly remembered seeing Jake earlier that day as he had handed Paul the shop receipts to take to Aro. He had known then that if he had been in Jake's position that he would do the same for Bella.

He had, not thirty minutes before, confessed to himself that he would do time to keep Bella safe. He'd done it when he was eleven years old and he would keep doing it. Was he as crazy as what Jake surely was for wanting to see Vanessa? Was Jake's indifference to Aro's threat the same as his own blasé attitude towards being in prison for Bella?

He wasn't about to fuck up his parole to prove a point, of fucking course, but, should Peter become more of a problem, then Cullen was more than willing to put his freedom on the line to keep the fucker away from the woman that he…

"Cullen?"

Cullen blinked twice and looked back at his friend.

"Cullen, man," Jake sighed with his head in his hands. "I _need_ you there. I need you to just watch my back. You're the only one who can do that. If she isn't there…then fuck, whatever, but I have to at least try. I know you don't understand-"

"No," Cullen interrupted as his shoulders sank in defeat. "I get it. I do."

Jake's face flashed with a look of surprise. "So you're in?" he asked quietly with a slow nod.

Cullen knew Jacob Black better than anyone, and he was sure that if he said no to his risk-ridden endeavour then Jake would fucking do it anyway. He was a stubborn motherfucker. A stubborn motherfucker who was apparently in love and_ that_ combination couldn't be a good one.

Cullen couldn't count on the others to watch him, to make sure that shit didn't go wrong for his best friend. Fuck, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened. He had to be there, to make sure everyone was safe.

He had little choice.

Cullen put his hand on Jake's shoulder and squeezed. "Yeah, man, I'm in."

**Holy what the hell is gonna happen, Batman!**

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	30. Chapter 30

**Happy New Year my lovelies!**

**Hope 2011 is treating you good so far.**

**Golden Lemon Awards are open for nominations (just sayin') as are the Shimmer Awards.**

**Here is part one of what should have been a whole chapter, but once I hit 15,000 words, I decided to split it. Apologies, but I think it's for the benefit of the story. Plus, this chapter is still nearly 12,000, so no nasty words thank you.**

**Big girl panties may be needed, and I am here for any and all hand holding that may be required. Deep breaths.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 29: Breaking**

_A promise is a debt. ~__**Proverb**_

Come over, Peaches

_I can't. You know I can't, and you know that I hate that I can't._

I'm sorry, what?

_Very funny. I'll see you tomorrow_

But I wanna see you now. I'll be finished at Alec's at seven, and G won't stay long.

_Don't be silly, y__ou need your meeting with Garrett, and besides, you saw me yesterday._

So. Can I not want to see you today too? And besides, that was in the library where no touching is allowed.

_Of course you can want to see me. I like that you do, but you knew I had this meeting with Charlotte__._

Yeah, I know.

_You're cute when you miss me._

What the fuck ever. Don't flatter yourself, Miss Swan.

_I wouldn't dream of it, Mr. C. __It's okay. I miss you too._

Yeah, yeah.

_I'll call you later x_

Ok x

The small 'x' at the end of Cullen's text message teased him like fuck. He contorted his face in debate as he looked at it: small, but seemingly huge in its implication. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed in irritation at himself. It was just a kiss for crying out loud, what harm was it? Bella had sent one; it was only common courtesy that he returned it, right? It wasn't like they hadn't shared a few dozen of the real things in person either.

He sat for an age with his thumb over the send button while Jake's taunting voice echoed in the back of his mind: _pussy whipped, pathetic, loser._

And, annoyingly, the son of a bitch'd be absolutely right. Cullen was just that. 100%.

And, fuck it all to hell if Bella was right too (not that he would ever tell her so). He _was_ missing her. He was missing her like fucking crazy, and he was struggling to understand why. Like she had pointed out, he _had_ only seen her yesterday.

_Pathetic._

He quickly deleted the x and pressed send.

Since Jake's epic fucking cock blockage four days previous, Cullen had only seen Bella in a purely professional capacity, and it sucked huge ass and balls. They had agreed that there had to be boundaries, and, while they were in the library, they had managed to behave accordingly, not that it hadn't taken a fucking huge amount of will power on Cullen's part. Woman was a tease even when she wasn't meaning to be with her tight pencil skirts and her silky blouses. _Shit._ Hot, but a fucking tease.

Tuesday had been Cullen's own bi-weekly meeting with Charlotte, so that scuppered any and all pyjama party plans that Cullen had considered inviting Bella to. His parole officer had done her usual apartment check, asked him a shit load of useless fucking questions about work, his outlook on life, whether he had had contact with family, how his sessions with Bella were going, and then left, leaving her sickly sweet perfume in her wake. Cullen didn't really have a problem with Charlotte. She was straight to the point and didn't take his bullshit, but when she was encroaching on Bella time, Cullen couldn't help but become terse and aggravated by her.

She was still pushing the whole Carlisle issue, and Cullen was _still_ not interested. Dealing with his dickhead cousin was quite enough to be getting along with fuck you very much. Charlotte was surprised to say the least when Cullen had mentioned his meeting with Peter, even if he didn't go into specifics. He didn't want to bore her to death and, truth be told, he couldn't fathom having to explain the shit again.

Interestingly, it had been Charlotte who had called in a few favours to get Cullen a new attorney after his incarceration at Arthur Kill, citing a conflict of interest between lawyer and client. She always seemed wary of the Whitlock team whenever they were around, noticing that their general presence made Cullen even more agitated and aggressive. She had never asked outright, but Cullen sensed that Charlotte knew that there was definitely no love lost between the two men. Peter hadn't seemed to put up much of a fight, and Cullen was assigned new representation within a few days. For that, alone, Cullen would always hold Charlotte in high regard.

"Come on, Cullen," Alec barked from his position at the changing room door. "I'm aging like a bitch over here".

Cullen smirked and threw his cell phone into his bag. "Yeah," he muttered. "You fucking look like one too."

Alec snorted as Cullen walked passed. "And for that hilarious retort you can start your ass by giving me two hundred sit ups."

Cullen glared at his trainer who simply smiled, and winked, and pointed to the mat on the floor by his feet.

"Get to it, Buttercup," he chimed.

Cullen dropped onto his ass with a muttered curse, lifted his knees, put his hands behind his head, and began his two hours of excruciating physical torture; trying his hardest not to think about Bella and how much he wanted to see her. However, even after seventy-five of the fuckers, he was finding that she was still the most prevalent thing on his mind. Her face, her kisses, her touch, her smell, all of it was whirling around his head like a fucking washing machine on fast spin. He thought about her on her knees in the library, sucking him into oblivion. He thought about her tender eyes as he told her about his family in all their fucked up glory and her lack of judgement and pity. And he thought about her gentle touch as they parted at his apartment door after Jake had burst their hot, sweet, and naked, almost in her tight pussy, bubble. _Asshole._

Cullen pushed harder with his sit ups in frustration. When the fuck was he going to get to be inside of her again?

Granted, fucking _wasn't_ the be all and end all of his being with Bella, but, shit, he'd waited long enough for the first time - which was now almost a week ago - he'd be damned if he was waiting that long again. His body seemed to crave her and, even though she had only been in his bed two full nights in total, her absence from between his sheets was palpable. He may have swapped the pillows around in an attempt at fooling his body that she was lying there with him. It was futile and fucking ridiculous and, fact was, her scent was fading quickly from everywhere in his apartment.

He groaned.

He should have sent the fucking kiss. _Goddamit._

Hitting his two hundred, and dragging his ass to the weight bench, Cullen allowed his mind to leave the wonders of Bella and Bella's body, and started to focus on the events that could potentially transpire on Friday night. Fucking Jake. As much as Cullen cared for the prick, he sure as hell could have kicked his sorry ass across the city after hearing his plans for the Halloween party. They had spent the rest of Monday and the majority of Wednesday (while Bella was playing tennis with her friend Leah) discussing the night, and how it was going to play out.

As much as Cullen liked to think that he understood Jake's need to go to Bar Aro to see Vanessa, Cullen couldn't shake the feeling that his friend was going in with his eyes wide the fuck shut. If the shit hit the fan, and, realistically speaking, it would, then Cullen's ass would be back in Arthur Kill faster than he could say 'God Bless America', and Jake would be in the cell alongside him…or dead. As much as Cullen hated to think about that shit, the fact that Aro's shitkickers carried Glocks was a very vivid reality.

He and Jake had almost come to blows on a few occasions, in Cullen's apartment, as they discussed the risks of their attending the damn thing with Rosalie having to step between the two of them.

Cullen was less than happy that she was going to be there too, and he had made her swear that she would be in his sight at all times. She agreed as long as she had control over all of the costumes. Cullen couldn't have given a shit, as long as his mouth was still capable of accessing alcohol for the duration of his wearing the fucking thing. He had to concede that he was fairly fucking thrilled that Rosalie's stay in the city had been extended until after Christmas, but his stomach still gave an absurdly large flop when he thought about her being in the club with them. Paul, Jared and the other boys were under strict instructions to stay by the girl's side all night, and had been threatened with death should anything happen to her.

Jake had tried to quell Cullen's fears, but that wasn't enough. Cullen had to know that the people he cared about were safe, no matter what.

As Cullen bench pressed the huge fucking weight above him, feeling his biceps groan in protest, he couldn't help but start to feel anxious that, in just over twenty-four hours, they would be in Bar Aro, with no idea as to what the fuck was going to happen.

=PoF=

Isabella walked out of Charlotte's office feeling pretty good. Cullen's parole officer was clearly impressed with the work that had been taking place in the library three times a week, and had also suggested that the parole board were equally so. To say that Isabella was relieved and just the slightest bit proud would have been an understatement.

Isabella had been nervous as all hell about the meeting, due to the fact that her poker face was seriously lacking, and she had convinced herself that Charlotte would instantly know of her less than professional thoughts, feelings and actions towards her student.

It seemed, this time, her worries were unfounded

She glanced down at her phone to see that Leah had text to say that she was waiting for her at the restaurant where they had agreed to meet. Isabella weaved her way through the crowds of Broadway and West 96th and was walking through the doors of _Detours_ within ten minutes.

"Sorry, I'm late," she apologised as she approached Leah's table at the far right of the restaurant. "Crowds are manic out there."

"No problem," Leah answered with a tight smile as she watched Isabella remove her coat and order a Martini from the patient waiter. "It's final Halloween shopping. Your meeting went well?"

Isabella smiled. "Yeah, it did," she chimed in reply. "Charlotte's really impressed with the work that Cullen has done, which is only fair considering how hard he works all the time. She was really positive. It was good."

"That's great," Leah smiled while she let her finger trace the condensation on her glass.

Leah and Isabella had not really touched on the whole Cullen topic since Isabella had walked out of her Grandmother's house in Chicago a week ago, and it was driving Leah a little crazy, especially as she listened to the excitement and affection that fell around the words that she used to describe Cullen.

Even during their tennis match the day before, few words had been spoken about him. In fact not many words had been spoken at all due to the awkwardness of their reunion after the Chicago episode. Isabella had eventually explained that she held no ill feeling towards Leah because, like herself, she hadn't done anything wrong. Isabella's venom was directed at her mother Renee, Alice and Jasper.

And - after her talk with Cullen about his past - Peter.

Leah hated to see Isabella so angry, not that she blamed her of course, but it just wasn't her. It broke her heart to see her and Renee fight, and Alice had done nothing but constantly call Leah in an attempt to build the bridges with Isabella that she had so readily burned. She had cried and pleaded with Leah to say something to Isabella but Leah couldn't help but feel that Alice needed to lie in the bed that she had made for herself. Even after a week, Leah wasn't even sure that she herself had forgiven Alice for speaking to Isabella the way that she had.

True enough, Leah hated being in the middle, but she knew that she had little choice. She didn't like confrontation and, in actuality, the whole situation had nothing to do with her _or_ her feelings. For her, it was Isabella that needed her friendship and support, the most. She had tried to explain this to her idiot of a brother Jamie numerous times in the last seven days as he fretted and procrastinated about calling Isabella. He was a fucking wimp and was still to pick up the fucking phone.

Wussy relatives aside, Leah also knew unequivocally that something was going on between Isabella and her student, Cullen. That shit was clear as day after the whole grinding soft porn that she had witnessed between the two of them in the middle of the dance floor of the club they were in two weeks before.

The chemistry and attraction between the couple was so thick that Leah could almost touch it, and, when they had talked about it in Isabella's grandmother's pantry, the glint in Isabella's eye told Leah that she was harbouring more than just a regular crush. This shit was deep and real, and Isabella was too far gone to be pulled back from the edge of reason and professional judgement.

After ordering their food, Leah decided to cut through the bullshit. "How is Cullen?" she asked nonchalantly, even though her throat abruptly became dry.

Isabella's eyes suddenly flickered between her friends; caution written all over her face.

"On come on, Bells," Leah sighed gently in exasperation. "Do you not think we're past this whole game of secrecy?"

Isabella's gaze dropped to the cocktail glass that the waiter had placed in front of her.

"I know something is going on between you two," Leah pushed. "You practically admitted it at Nana Boo's. Your mother is going frantic because you won't return her calls, and Alice is beside herself with guilt."

This got Isabella's attention immediately. "So what?" she snapped as anger flashed across her eyes. "They have no one to blame but themselves. I'm _not_ in the wrong here, Leah."

Leah held her hands up. "I know that. What your mom said to you was…well, it was fucking harsh, and Alice should never have kept you in the dark the way that she did, but, Bells, I'm sick of being in the middle of all this. It's not fair."

Isabella's stern glare instantly dissolved into one of remorse and apology. "I know," she murmured regretfully. "I'm sorry that they won't leave you alone."

"That's not what I'm saying," Leah said quickly. "Yes, the phone calls and badgering are a pain in the ass, but I'm more concerned about you. The least you can do is be honest with me, Bells."

Leah waited until Isabella's eyes met hers. "_What_ is going on with you and Cullen?"

The look that washed over Isabella's face told Leah everything that she needed to know in two seconds flat.

Her dark brown eyes sparked with undeniable passion, and filled instantly with tears of panic and surprise, while her cheeks flushed a wild, amorous pink

"Holy shit," Leah muttered as she placed her glass down slowly onto the table. She swallowed. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Isabella's breath left her in stuttered waves. She shrugged minutely and looked at her hands that were fisting on the table top.

"I don't know," she whispered. She looked up at Leah and shook her head slowly. "I really don't know." 

Leah took a deep breath through her nose and licked her lips. She leaned forward and placed her palm on top of Isabella's. "You can trust me, Bells. You know that, right?"

Isabella smiled meekly and nodded.

Leah jumped in feet first. "Have you slept with him?"

"Yes," came the quick, no-nonsense reply.

Leah's eyes widened slightly, but Isabella didn't notice as she was too busy ripping her napkin into tiny pieces.

"Does he love you?"

Isabella shook her head, keeping her eyes on her frantic fingers. "I don't know," she muttered truthfully. "But I know that he cares about me."

"He does?" 

Isabella smiled to herself as she thought about the texts and phone calls that she had shared with Cullen since she had dragged herself from his apartment on the Monday evening.

He may have tried to sound like an arrogant ass, but Isabella knew that he was missing her just as much as she was missing him. And she liked it, because, as absurd as it was, Isabella _wanted_ to see Cullen every night. She wanted to sleep in his bed and wake up with him ever morning. She wanted to make love to him and then have him fuck her into oblivion before losing herself under his exhausted weight and breathless kisses.

It was a silly, dangerous, romantic want, but it was there nonetheless: relentlessly eating away at her professionalism and resolve.

"Yeah," Isabella answered finally staring pointedly at her best friend. "He does care about me. I know that for sure." She exhaled thoughtfully. "I know because I've never felt as safe as I do when I'm with him."

"Safe?" Leah asked quietly, stunned by Isabella's fervent words. "What do you mean?"

Isabella looked at her friend and saw nothing but honesty, intrigue and affection. She was harmless and could be trusted, Isabella was certain. Unlike her own mother and her supposed best friends Alice and Jamie, Leah wore her heart on her sleeve. She was trustworthy and true to herself and the people that she cared about and, as Isabella took a deep breath, she realised that Leah was the only person she had to talk to about the entire surreal situation.

She cleared her throat and swallowed down the emotion that always appeared when she spoke of her father. "Do you remember," she began slowly. "When my dad…when dad died and I kept telling the police that someone had helped me?"

Leah remained silent as a small wave of recollection passed across her face.

"I told them that someone had dragged me away and held me…a young boy perhaps." Isabella licked her lips nervously.

Leah eventually nodded with a confused furrow in her brow. "They never found anyone. They said you imagined it."

"Post traumatic stress," Isabella scoffed, "Idiots."

They were both silent for a beat.

"I don't get it," Leah said bluntly with a hand through her hair. "What has that got to do with…?"

Isabella watched as realisation slowly crept over her friend. Her skin paled significantly and her pupils dilated.

Leah looked around herself as she lowered her voice and dipped her head towards Isabella's. "Cullen…he was? You're saying that _he_ was the boy?" Her voice was a pitch higher and her eyes showed disbelief and amazement.

"He is. He was." Isabella replied. The left side of her mouth lifted as she said: "He saved my life, Leah."

"Holy fucking shit," Leah mumbled into the palm that had found its way to her mouth, "All those years ago? He was the one?"

Isabella nodded and sipped her drink, "Crazy, huh?"

"No doubt," Leah conceded. "Did he know or did you guess? I mean, are you _sure_?"

Isabella sat back in her seat, took a large gulp of Martini, and began to tell Leah about the events that followed her leaving Nana Boo's: the drunken booty call at Cullen's apartment and the subsequent panic attack and grief that overtook her. The trip to Central Park after her mother had called, and the confessions that he made after they had danced in the moonlight. By the time Isabella was explaining what had happened when she got back to Cullen's apartment, sopping wet and exhausted, Leah was almost sitting on her lap in excitement.

"I swear to God," Leah exhaled dreamily. "That is the most romantic fucking thing that I have ever heard."

Isabella laughed lightly and raised her eyebrows in agreement. "It was pretty…amazing."

"Well," Leah continued. "If you're not in love with him then you damn well should be."

Isabella looked at her friend in confusion. "What?"

"Isabella," Leah groaned in exasperation. "This guy saved your life. He confessed everything to you. He was there for you when you needed him. He's fuck hot and, I imagine, is a freak in the sheets."

Isabella suppressed her laugh. "He's also my student." She lowered her eyes and her voice. "And an ex-con."

"And?" Leah asked matter-of-factly. "I thought that shit didn't bother you?"

"It doesn't," Isabella answered immediately; fervently. "I don't give a shit, but it's a true fact."

She sighed and closed her eyes momentarily.

"He's protective, and caring, and gentle, and sexy as hell." Both women laughed. "I feel something for him, deep inside, something I've never ever felt before. He makes me feel alive." Isabella pressed her palm to her chest and breathed. "He's everything I want."

"Then be with him," Leah said softly as though it was the most simple thing in the world.

"I wish it was that easy," Isabella countered. "There are complications."

"Alice?"

"And Peter," Isabella hissed, "Motherfucker."

"Whoa," Leah gasped. "That's a change of heart. Why the hate? I know he kept things secret, but really?"

After hearing about the complexities of the Whitlock/Cullen relationship, and the shit that Peter had put Cullen through when he was just a little boy, Leah was in serious need of another drink.

"This is like a freaking soap opera," she exclaimed as she rubbed her face. "Who knew that Peter was like that?"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "I'm obviously a shitty judge of character."

Leah shrugged her right shoulder. "He keeps asking after you," she said quietly. "Peter. He says that he's text you."

"He has," Isabella confessed. "I keep ignoring him. Cullen wants me to have nothing to do with him."

"Understandable," Leah agreed. She noticed the hesitation on Isabella's face. "You don't agree?"

"No. No, I do. The guy's an asshole. But I feel like I should set him straight. We never ended…whatever it was that we shared, and I'd like to do it face to face."

"But Cullen would go apeshit?"

"Pretty much."

Leah sighed and rested her forearms on the table between them. "Just be honest with him, Bells. If he cares about you as much as you say he does, then surely he'll understand."

Isabella ran her hands through her hair and shook her head. "I don't know, Leah. Cullen is…well, he has a way with words."

Leah smirked. "Mmhm, I just bet he does."

Isabella couldn't help but laugh as Leah waggled her eyebrows suggestively. The two women fell quickly back into a normal, relaxed conversation, and they simultaneously felt the awkward atmosphere lift gradually from around them as they laughed and caught up. Isabella asked about Jamie, feeling a small sting of hurt that he hadn't called, and laughed as Leah waxed lyrical about Victoria and her 'lemon face'.

"I swear the woman _never_ smiles!"

By the time their desserts had arrived they were both fairly tipsy and talking louder than they probably should have, considering there were people seated all around them.

"I'm not telling you that!" Isabella exclaimed as she pushed her fork into her chocolate cake.

"Oh, come on, Bells!" Leah pleaded with a side order of puppy dog eyes, "Just a little bit of description? I mean, tell me about the length. What are we talking, eight inches?"

Leah held her hands eight inches apart to help with the visual. Isabella snorted and coughed on her cake.

"He's a tall boy, broad…built," Leah continued mercilessly. "He must be packing one hell of a coc-..."

"Leah!" Isabella felt her cheeks burst into flames as she caught the eye of a young guy sitting to their left who had clearly heard what they were discussing. He smiled and laughed to himself before turning back to his menu.

Leah pouted and blew air out from between her lips. "Spoil sport," she grumbled as she licked cream off of her dessert spoon. "I'd tell _you_."

Isabella laughed into her new napkin. "I know!" Leah giggled and shrugged unapologetically.

"I'll just say that…he knows what he's doing with alllll that he has," Isabella offered with a small wink.

"You fucking tease," Leah gaped. She swallowed down the last of her trifle and sat back with the remnants of her drink.

"Hey," she continued gently. "So, are you going to Alice's Halloween party tomorrow night?"

Isabella looked at her friend as though she had grown an extra head. "Don't be ridiculous," she replied tightly. "Why the hell would I want to do that?"

"I just thought I'd ask."

"Alice asked you to, didn't she?"

Leah nodded as Isabella exhaled in annoyance and dropped her fork heavily onto the plate. "She not got the balls to ask me herself?"

"Of course not, Bells," Leah answered with her eyes fixed on the table. "You've ignored her since Chicago. I just wasn't sure if you were going to use the costumes we bought, is all."

The two women sat in a relatively awkward silence while the waiter cleared their plates and brought them the check which Isabella paid with her credit card.

"I, um…I've got a couple of tickets to another Halloween party," Leah murmured. "Daniel from work managed to get hold of some. You're more than welcome to join us."

Isabella smiled and scrunched her nose up. "Thanks, but-"

"You have plans with Cullen?"

"Actually no," Isabella sighed. "He has plans with friends. We're spending time together on Saturday. We haven't really seen one another outside of the library since…Monday."

A small smile crept onto Leah's face. "You miss him?"

Isabella nodded and chuckled nervously. "I'm a fucking sap, right?"

"No," Leah retorted quickly with a sympathetic gaze. "You're just in love."

=PoF=

"Stop fucking whining! You look hot as hell, trust me!"

Cullen pulled at his hair that Rosalie had lathered in wax and washable black and red streaks.

"I look like a fucking fag," he snarled at her reflection in the mirror. He slapped his palms to his thighs. "What the fuck, Rose?"

"You do not," she snapped back as she thrust his contact lenses at him. "Now, shut the hell up and put the clothes on that I left on your bed. We're gonna be late."

Grumbling under his breath as Rosalie stormed her cowgirl ass out of his bathroom, Cullen did as she asked, wondering how the fuck he had been talked into dressing up. He was a straight up, testosterone driven, heterosexual guy and, here he was, wearing colour in his hair and black fucking make-up on his eyes. _Fucking Rosalie._ All Cullen could think, as he pulled at his greasy hair, was that it was a fucking good thing that Bella wasn't going to see him dressed the way he was. That shit would be beyond embarrassing.

When he'd told her where he was going for Halloween, Bella had acted more than a little surprised and had laid a nice, long, yet chaste, kiss on his lips, by her Mini Cooper, as they said their goodbyes for the evening. He hadn't questioned her reaction, but had promised that he would see her on Saturday.

And it was a promise that would not be broken.

Goddamit, he was desperate to spend some one on one time with her that didn't include a room full of books and a nosey old bitch named Cope. He just wanted to be with her. Just the two of them. No worries. No hassles. And preferably naked.

It hadn't gone unnoticed by the people around Cullen that he was one snappy, sexually frustrated asshole. Jake had made continuous jokes about Cullen's 'sexy tutor' which had garnered a shit load of questions from the rest of the boys, and Rosalie, but Cullen had simply ignored them all and kept quiet. They didn't need to know his business, and he wasn't ready to share Bella with them just yet. Not when there was so much crap going on.

As much as he was missing his Peaches, he needed to get his head on straight and focussed on the night ahead.

Begrudgingly, Cullen pulled on the black ripped jeans that were laid out - just as Rosalie had said - the black _Kiss_ t-shirt, which he had to admit, was fairly fucking cool and the black scuffed boots that he wore with everything. He walked back into the bathroom and grimaced once again at his appearance.

He looked like a reject from a shitty Seattle rock band for crying out loud.

Cursing and bitching about fucking women and their manipulative ways, he opened the container which held the last important components of his costume, and spent the next twenty five minutes applying the fucking things.

Grabbing a black and white plaid shirt from off the back of the chair in his bedroom and throwing it on once he was done, Cullen stormed back into the living room of his apartment to find everybody standing with beers, joints and cigarettes.

"At fucking last," Jake sighed as he lifted his beer to his lips with a hairy werewolf paw. Motherfucker looked like Teenwolf on a bad day with his hairy face and dog like teeth.

"Shut up," Cullen moaned as he sparked a smoke.

It had been decided fairly early on that the costumes that they were all wearing would also work as disguises. Even though they were all still allowed to drink at Bar Aro they all knew that, if any of Aro's cronies saw Jake talking to Vanessa, shit would go down quicker than Paris Hilton's panties at a camcorder convention.

"Those contacts are fucking sweet, dude," Ben gasped from behind his Darth Vader helmet as he looked up at Cullen. He stank of pot. "Are they black or red?"

"Red," Rosalie answered from across the room as she adjusted her Stetson. "He's a blood drinker, remember?"

"An emo vamp," Siobhan purred as she rubbed her hands down her skin-tight Catwoman suit. "That's sexy as hell." She eyed him like a piece of meat. "Damn, Cullen, I may have to ask you to bite me later."

"In your dreams," Cullen remarked with a smirk as he let his tongue travel down the left fang that was glued to his own tooth.

He had to confess silently to himself, the contacts and the fangs were bitchin'. He wondered fleetingly if Bella would be into being bitten by an 'emo vamp.' Weirdly, biting into her skin sounded fucking sexy as hell. A ripe peach for the taking. _Fuck._ He adjusted his jeans that were suddenly really fucking tight on the crotch and, after grabbing his keys and necking his beer, he followed the twelve-strong posse out of his apartment to the waiting cabs on the street below.

=PoF=

The walls of Bar Aro were almost concave as the beats of the music slammed into them. The queue of witches, whores, murderers and zombies, was at least one hundred strong outside the club, and the anxiety and anticipation had begun rolling off of Cullen in waves. As he smoked another much needed cigarette, he watched Jake surreptitiously at his side and noticed the shake in his shoulders and the nervous twisting of his hands.

"You alright?" he asked as they took another step along the sidewalk, closer to the entrance.

Jake's head flicked up to Cullen in surprise. "Yeah, yeah, man, I'm fine," he answered quickly. _Too_ quickly.

"You sure?"

Jake nodded and rubbed at the fake wolf hair that Rosalie had stuck generously to his cheeks and chin. "Yeah, I'm just…I just…I just wanna know that she's okay, you know?"

Cullen blinked in understanding. "We're all here," he muttered as he clapped a hand against his friend's shoulder blade. "Just stick to the plan and everything will be fine."

"I know, I know," Jake mumbled.

"Any hint of trouble, we leave. I grab Rose, you go with-…"

"I know, Cullen!" Jake snapped with wide eyes. "Jesus, man, we've gone over this a thousand times."

"For good reason, asshole," Cullen replied smoothly. "It's not just you I'm worried about: the girls, the other guys. I need _you_ to understand that."

Jake exhaled and dropped his chin to his chest. "I get it." He looked back at Cullen. "I do." He gave a small smile of reassurance. "And you don't have to worry about me. I got this shit."

Cullen stared back at his friend, praying to every deity he could think of that that was true. The idea that Vanessa might not even show had been touched on briefly, but Cullen knew that Jake had barely listened. He was determined to see his girl, come hell, high water or fucking Aro Bartollini. He was a stubborn son of a bitch for sure, and Cullen tried to prepare himself for the inevitable apocalypse, should she not be there. To say that Jake would take it badly, would be a gross fucking understatement.

As they stepped closer to the club enterance, Cullen once again found himself empathising with Jake. If it was Bella, Cullen knew, her absence would rip him the hell apart.

Ninety minutes later and Cullen was leaning nonchalantly against the bar alongside Paul, and a much more relaxed Jake, with a beer in his hand and a wary eye on the crowd in front of him. Jake was definitely calmer, less tense, although Cullen had watched as his friend's eager face crumble slightly every time he realised that Vanessa was still nowhere to be seen. He couldn't help but hate Vanessa a little for that shit. Cullen was just thankful that the JD in his glass was keeping his volatile ass mellow.

Cullen looked across the club to see that Rosalie was already taking control of the damned dance floor with Siobhan and her other girls as sidekicks, while Jared and the other shop boys watched from the sidelines.

Their entrance into the club had been without incident, with not even a hint of suspicion from the melon headed fuckers on the door. Cullen wasn't sure whether he should have been relieved or nervous as fuck as a result. He kept his focus religiously between the girls, Jake, and the conspicuous gun toting pricks that silently moved around the edges of the room like fucking sharks.

"How long do we wait?" Paul asked with a surreptitious glance at Cullen.

"However long it takes," Jake replied before he sipped from his glass. "She'll be here."

Cullen nodded and chinked his glass to his friend's in agreement.

The place was fucking rammed with people but, even so, there was still a good three feet of wide berth given by everyone who passed Cullen and his friends at the bar, which relaxed him minutely. He didn't need to be manhandled by drunken assholes while he was high alert. The admiring glances from the women that sashayed past were welcome, given what he was wearing, but Cullen couldn't help but compare every single one of them to his Peaches.

Hair wasn't dark enough, eyes weren't large enough, face wasn't as beautiful, tits weren't pert enough, ass wasn't…

"Fuck. Me."

Cullen turned his head towards Paul, who had muttered the two words, and Jake, to see them both drooling like rabid dogs over two girls who were dancing seductively by one of the VIP booths at the right of the club. And fuck if they weren't hotter than all hell. Cullen tried not to look, he really did, but, shit, he was a red-bloodied male, and he was horny to boot. Not a great combination.

The two girls ground together with the whole hips-pressed-tightly-together-dance thing that women knew drove men fucking crazy as beautiful Monster blasted from the speakers. They laughed, drank, and wiggled their asses, seemingly oblivious to the lascivious looks that they were garnering from around the bar. They touched each other's waists and kissed chastely.

Yep, Cullen thought with a sigh, a fucking premature ejaculation waiting to happen.

The girl that Cullen couldn't take his damn eyes off was small like Peaches, but she had long blonde hair that fell in carefully sculpted waves around her face and down her back. She was wearing mirrored Aviator shades and deep red lipstick that made her lips look fucking insane.

Cock sucking lips, for sure.

_Bella._

Cullen instantly felt the guilt caused by his less than chivalrous thoughts sneak up his back and wind around his throat like a damned noose. But, try as he might, he couldn't look away from the blonde girl, especially when he let his eyes roam down her body.

_Sweet Jesus._

She was dressed as a cop. But not just _any_ cop. A dirty cop with knee high, fuck-me heels, fish net tights with suspenders, and a skirt that only just covered an ass that was fucking resplendent. _Smackable, biteable, smooth and pert._ The outfit was dark NYPD blue, and was pulled in at her tiny waist by a large leather belt that was decorated by two sets of silver handcuffs and a baton. Her tits were magnificent and were practically pouring out from between the two sides of her shirt that was fastened by one small, straining button.

Straining like Cullen's fucking button fly.

"Holy shit," he muttered into his beer glass as he watched the woman dance and smile, and swing her blonde hair around. Her police hat was tilted coyly to the right and added an even more mystery to her sexiness.

Jake turned back to Cullen and laughed. "Makes you feel glad to be alive, right?"

Cullen smiled back, but it was forced. He was seriously fucking disturbed by his body's reactions when he was seriously fucking involved with his Bella. What the_ hell_ was he doing getting a fucking boner over another woman? That shit sure as hell wasn't right. If he found out that Bella had gotten wet and horny over some other fucker, Cullen was sure as shit that he'd have gone postal on both of their asses. _Shotguns were cheap when a man knew people._

He quickly moved himself around so that he was facing the bar, and ordered another beer and a shot of tequila. He needed to get a fucking grip on reality. As he knocked back the shot with one hand, he fumbled for his cell out of his jeans pocket with the other. He went straight to his messages and typed one out, using only his thumb:

_What're you doing? ~ C_

He sighed and rubbed his face with the back of his hand as he pressed send to Bella. He allowed himself a quick glance over his shoulder back at the sexy cop, but couldn't see her. _Thank fuck_.

He grimaced and sipped on his drink. Cullen couldn't imagine being with anyone else, now that he had Bella in his life. He had been ruined for other women the moment that he had pushed his cock into her and felt her moan, and submit to him. No-one would ever come close to her. _Ever._ He couldn't allow a tight ass and a fantastic rack to make him forget how perfect his girl was.

His chest felt altogether strange, almost suffocated, and he felt his jaw tense with the discomfort and disappointment he felt at himself for the way his body had reacted to a woman who wasn't his Peaches. He had no control over that shit and it worried him. The feelings that he had for Bella were strong and, even though he wouldn't allow himself to think about them all that much, he knew that they were solid and true.

His cell vibrated in his hand.

Not much. Are you having fun? B x

_I'd be having more fun if you were here. ~ C_

Be careful what you wish for x

Cullen frowned down at his cell, but, before he could respond, his arm was jolted in such a way that his cell fell to the bar, screen down, with a loud smack.

"Fuck's sake," Cullen growled as he picked it up quickly and checked for any damage. He found none and immediately looked up to see which fucker had pushed him. His jaw went slack at the same time that his cock gave an appreciative twitch.

Cop girl.

"I am so, so sorry," she purred with her hands to her buxom chest. "I caught my heel on the floor here." She looked down at her shoe that she was holding up behind herself, inspecting the thin black heel that Cullen thought would look fucking awesome resting on his shoulders.

Fucking idiot.

The girl might have looked embarrassed, but it was hard for Cullen to tell with her shades and hair in the way.

She pointed to his cell phone. "Is it broken?"

Cullen blinked and shook his head; apparently without the gift of speech.

"Oh good," she said quietly. Her accent sounded almost Texan. Maybe? Cullen frowned in confused annoyance before he grunted rudely and turned his back to her.

It was his complete intention to ignore her and her shit hot body, but that was damn near impossible when he felt her small hand on his arm.

"Can I buy you a drink to make up for my clumsiness?"

Cullen looked down at her hand that was burning through his shirt and then looked at her face, seeing his own red-eyed reflection back in her Aviators.

"No, thanks," he answered curtly, ignoring Jake's elbow that was nudging his ribs relentlessly in encouragement.

"Please," she said with a smirk that made her lips look fucking amazing. "I've never bought a drink for a sexy vampire before."

"I said no thanks," he insisted with less force in his voice than he truly wanted.

"I'm sorry," she apologised as she placed her hands on her waist and jutted her hips out to the left. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"Not particularly," Cullen lied with an arrogantly cocked eyebrow. "I just don't take drinks from strange women."

She laughed lightly and twisted her blonde hair around her finger. "I'm not strange," she protested as she licked her lips. "I'm harmless."

"Whatever you say, lady," Cullen replied as he sipped his drink.

Woman was so far away from harmless it was almost fucking laughable. Almost.

"Are these your friends?" she asked brightly as she stepped around him and smiled widely at Jake and Paul.

Before Cullen could stop them, both of his so called 'friends' had thrust their hands out to introduce themselves.

"And you are?" Jake asked with a wink. Motherfucker was definitely after a kick in the fucking teeth. Cullen much preferred anxious, on edge Jake to this smarmy fucker.

"Officer Frisky," she answered with a coquettish flick of her hair.

"I just fucking bet you are," Paul muttered under his breath.

Cullen rolled his eyes and took a huge gulp of his drink willing his cock to just chill the fuck out and stop wondering what it would be like to nestle between Officer Frisky's tits.

"What's _your_ name?" she asked as she turned to Cullen. _Goddamn relentless_.

"This is Cullen," Jake said quickly as he wrapped an arm around his buddy's neck. "He needs a good frisking, Officer." He and Paul collapsed with laughter.

Cullen scowled at Jake and pushed him off. "Fuck you," he seethed.

"Cullen," Cop Girl continued, seemingly ignoring the exchange between the three men "That's an odd name. Kinda hot."

"What the fuck ever," Cullen muttered as he slammed his glass onto the bar in annoyance. "I need a cigarette." He glared at Jake. "Call me if anything goes down."

"Yeah," Jake called back as he nodded towards Cop Girl who was still hovering. "You do the same." He snickered into his glass as Paul fist bumped him.

Cullen flipped them both off and strode purposefully across the room, nodding at Rosalie and the girls as he did. They waved back and blew kisses to which Cullen simply shook his head in amusement. He was half way down the corridor towards the outside smoking area when he felt a hard pinch on his right ass cheek.

Speechless, he spun around to find Cop Girl smiling up at him.

…_the fuck?_

He looked around himself with arms out wide. "Can I help you?" he barked with a scowl.

"I thought I could join you for a smoke," Cop Girl answered as she nibbled on the tip of her finger.

"Look," Cullen exhaled as he clasped the bridge of his nose in frustration and guilt as the image of his dick in her mouth pummelled his frontal lobe. "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but I'm not interested."

"You're not?" she asked playfully as though she could see his hard-on.

Fuck it, maybe she could.

"No," he replied through lips that barely moved. "So, go back to your friends and leave me the fuck alone."

He turned to go, but her hand found his forearm and squeezed. "You don't think I'm pretty?"

Cullen froze and swallowed hard. _Fuckfuckfuck._

"No. I don't."

He turned back to find her leaning provocatively against the wall, the ends of her golden hair whispering across the swells of her breasts.

He was a fucking liar. _She_ was fucking stunning.

His tongue sat lifelessly at the bottom of his mouth. _Fuck. _He was screwed.

"You look at me like you think I'm pretty," she smiled as she placed one hand on her hip and one hand gently on Cullen's chest. "Those red eyes tell me you think I'm very pretty…even, sexy."

Cullen looked away, but didn't move as her hand wandered slowly up his chest, to his collarbone, up his throat, to his chin, where her finger tips began to dance around the edges of his mouth.

"I think _you_ are very sexy," she whispered. Her breath washed across his face like a freakin' aphrodisiac, "Maybe even..._beautiful_."

Cullen heard something in her words that made his body tingle, but _he_ was without the words to ask her about it. He felt his heart race and his breathing pick up. She felt so right, but Cullen knew it was very, very wrong.

"Do you have a girl, Cullen?" she asked as her nose ran up his jaw. She smelled incredible; an indistinct fruit scent that was potentially luscious, but was masked by something that he couldn't identify.

"I…I um…" he replied with a dip of his chin as he breathed her in with a huge lungful of air.

_Yes_, I have a girl, his mind screamed. A beautiful girl. A wonderful girl.

_His_ girl. His woman. Peaches. Bella. _His_ Bella.

Holy shit. What the fuck was he doing?

Coming to his senses quickly, he gripped a hold of her small wrist and pushed her back gently. "Yeah," he breathed. "I _do_ have a girl," he added firmly through a thick, lust filled throat. "And, as sexy as you are, you don't even _compare_ to her."

Cop Girl's mouth twitched. "Is that so?" she asked as she pouted playfully. "Well, that _is_ a shame." 

"Really?" Cullen asked disinterested, becoming bored. He released her wrist and shrugged his shoulders. "And why's that?"

Cop Girl leaned towards him, holding onto Cullen's waist, and whispered seductively into his ear: "Because I was hoping we could go back to my apartment, you know?" She paused and let her tongue flick his ear lobe, "Just you...and...me."

Cullen's eyes widened and his whole body went still apart from his heart that was beating so hard he waited anxiously for the inevitable snapping of his ribs, "Wh-what?"

No. No _fucking_ way. It couldn't be. Could it?

"Just you and me," she repeated again making his eyes roll. Cullen was sure that he could feel her smiling against his cheek as she brushed her lips along his jaw.

"Just you and me?" he asked in disbelief and hope, allowing his ears to recognise the lack of Texan drawl and, instead, hear the light husky tones of _her_ voice instead.

He was pretty damn certain his cock was about to explode through his jeans as he allowed his palm to travel gradually up the back of Cop Girl's supple, soft thigh. He just prayed to all that was Holy that he was doing the right thing.

"Mmhmm," she hummed in his ear as her body arched against his. _Fitting perfectly._ "We could have some fun," she whispered. "I have plenty of snacks to eat."

She pulled Cullen closer by fisting the lapels of his shirt, leaning her back heavily against the wall.

"I like snacks," he muttered breathlessly as he cupped her sublime ass, smirking when he heard her gasp. "Whatcha got?"

Cullen heard a small, familiar laugh leave her chest as she answered: "Peaches and Oreos mainly."

Cullen dropped his nose to the side of her head with a grunt of relief and grinned widely into her skin.

"Jesus," he growled as he held her tightly and began placing open mouthed wet kisses along her neck and up her jaw line.

"Goddamit, _Bella_," he moaned while she pulled at him and cupped his face as she attacked his mouth with hers, "Fucking Goddamit!"

Their tongues pushed, sucked and twisted in ecstatic greeting while their bodies pressed closer still, every inch touching the other, every line, curve, dip and muscle desperately coming together.

"Fuck," Cullen gasped as he gradually pulled his head back and held hers in his large hands. "It's _you_."

She laughed and nodded making the blonde hair move like rays of sunshine. Cullen frowned, hoping to all hell that she hadn't actually dyed her hair blonde. That shit would be a travesty. Gingerly, and still feeling a whole lot of discombobulated, Cullen lifted his hands from her ass, and held the ear rests of the Aviator shades that covered her eyes between his thumbs and forefingers. He pulled them from her face slowly, holding his breath as he did.

Little by little, Bella's beautiful, large; doe eyes stared back at him with a mischievous glimmer.

"There's _my_ girl," Cullen whispered to himself as he clipped the shades to her shirt, between her fuck awesome tits.

He cupped her face and kissed her with everything that he had, letting the guilt trickle away. She tasted so fucking good. She felt so fucking good. She _looked_ so fucking good.

"You scared the fucking life outta me," he grumbled against her plump, moist lips.

"Why?" Bella giggled as she gripped his shoulders to pull him back for more kisses.

Cullen swallowed and diverted his gaze.

"Cullen?" Bella pressed with a smile. "What is it?"

Cullen exhaled and dropped his forehead to hers. "I...I thought...I thought you were someone else and...I was so fucking turned on, Bella. I was hard as rock for...someone who...wasn't _you_." His words came out quickly and dripped with remorse.

Bella's smile faded instantly. "Oh, Sweetheart," she murmured as she kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't think...it was meant to be a surprise. A funny surprise. I didn't mean to make you feel bad, baby. Shit, Cullen, I'm sorry."

Cullen smiled tightly and kissed her gently, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. Her pushed his nose under the blonde hair and finally picked up on the peach scent that he had missed so much.

"Tell me that this is a wig," he said into her neck as he allowed his vampire fangs to trail down the column of her neck.

"Tell me those fangs are fucking real," she replied with a wanton moan.

"You like?" he grinned as he nibbled on her collarbone.

"Hell yes," she answered, lifting her head up and staring at him with heavy lidded eyes. "You look _so_ hot tonight."

Cullen let his eyes wander down Bella's body and blew out a long breath. _Likewise, darlin'_.

Bella smirked. "_You_ like?" she asked coyly as she wiggled her ass, making Cullen groan as her thigh rubbe his highly impressed cock.

"Yes," he hissed as he let the tips of his fingers play across her chest. "But I'm afraid I'm gonna have to gouge out the eyes of every fucking male in this place before I leave." Bella laughed, "Including those of my asshole friends."

Cullen's brow furrowed in utter arousal when Bella's palm, firmly but discreetly, rubbed his crotch.

"Shit," he groaned as their lips met again, pushing his groin into her hand. Hard. "I want my cock between your tits and then in your mouth. I then I want to fuck you while you're wearing those spectacular boots." He panted. "Now. _Right_ now. Whaddaya say, Peaches?"

He smiled as she laughed and ran her hands through his hair. "Sounds fucking perfect," she replied eagerly. "But I'm not sure that the people walking by would like it."

Cullen didn't even turn around to see the people that she was gesturing to. "I couldn't give a fuck," he admitted before kissing her perfect lips again. "I want you."

"I want you too," Bella gasped as his fangs nipped her lips and his hips swivelled against hers. She was soaked.

He gripped the tops of her thighs and she moaned into his mouth. _Christ_. He was seriously considering fucking her there and then. Onlookers be damned. _Shit._ Cullen suddenly leaned heavily against her and a groan of defeat left his snarling mouth.

"What?" Bella asked his shoulder as she rubbed her palms down his back in an effort to comfort him.

"I...I have to stay with Jake," he mumbled. "We're here...we're here for him."

Bella smiled gently and cupped his face. "It's okay," she said in a voice that said the complete opposite. "We planned to see each other tomorrow any way."

Cullen nearly stomped his foot like a fucking child. "But I wanna see you now!" he moaned as he lifted her to him with his forearms around her waist, and buried his nose in her neck. "I've...you know...I've…like seeing you," he murmured, "Touching you. Just you and me."

Bella smiled and nodded. "Me too," she confessed.

"Who are you with?" Cullen asked abruptly as he looked at her with a concerned expression. If she was on her own, dressed the way that she was, he would hit the goddamn roof.

"My friend Leah," she replied. "She got the tickets _and_ helped me with my costume."

Cullen cocked an eyebrow and felt his shoulders relax. "Well hell," he crooned as he rubbed his hands over her ass. "I'd better get her some flowers or some shit, huh?"

Bella laughed and the sound made Cullen's chest feel warm.

"I have an idea," she muttered as she fingered his left eyebrow while staring at his red contacts.

He dropped his head and laid soft, sensual kisses on her skin, desperate to have her naked and writhing beneath him.

"I know you need to stay here for Jake," Bella continued in a small breathless voice. "So...I could...if you want, I could..."

"What, Bella?" Cullen moaned against her collar bone as the scent of her perfume assaulted his senses.

"I could leave a spare key at the front desk of my apartment building for you?"

Cullen hesitated, pulling his tongue back into his mouth. He lifted his head to see a very nervous looking Peaches focussing intently on his _Kiss_ t-shirt and not his face.

"You...you'd do that?" he asked carefully. He lifted her face up by placing his index finger beneath her chin. "You'd let me come over?"

A small smile tugged at her still ruby red lips. "I _want_ you to come over, Cullen. I...I miss you."

Cullen couldn't begin to describe the sensation that slowly wrapped around his spine at her words. It was somewhere between warmth, comfort and lightness, or maybe a mixture of all three. Instead, he bent down and placed his lips to hers, hoping that she would feel everything that he couldn't say with words in the softness of his touch. She sighed into him and wound her hands into his hair. _I miss you too, Bella._

"Will you?" she asked as they broke apart. Their noses rested side by side.

Cullen mused playfully. "Shit, I don't know. Do I have to sleep on the sofa?"

Bella smiled. "No." 

"In your bed?"

"Yes."

"Will you be naked for the duration?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll fucking be there."

They kissed again tenderly, but with a promised passion that they both couldn't wait to see in its entirety. It had been too fucking long. Cullen couldn't wait to have her naked body against his; warm, safe and hungry for him.

He broke their kiss with two small chaste ones at either side of Bella's mouth. With the strange sensation that they were being watched, Cullen looked down the corridor to see two of Aro's pricks eying them intently. Whether they knew it was him, he had no idea, but his hackles rose immediately, especially with his precious Bella in his arms. He glared at them both before looking back at his girl who was; in her Cullen induced daze, oblivious to the exchange.

"Will you do something for me?" he asked as he pulled her shades from her top and placed them gently back onto her face.

"Sure," she replied with a small confused frown.

"Will you find your friend and go home?"

"Wh-...?"

"Trust me, baby," he said with a soft smile. "Can you just do this, for me? Text me when you get home and I'll text you when we leave."

Bella watched his face from behind her shades, noticing immediately the tightness in his jaw and the flaring of his nostrils. She glanced around herself, seeing the two meat head security guys who were fidgeting by the door.

"Is everything okay?" she asked when she looked back at Cullen. "Are you in trouble?"

Cullen couldn't help but smile at the protective edge to her voice. "No," he answered as he let his index finger trail across her cheek. "I'm fine. I just...I just want _you_ safe."

"Why wouldn't I be safe?" she pressed as she gripped his forearms.

Cullen licked his lips and took a deep breath. "Because you're here with me, Bella," he stated with a regretful sigh that belied the firmness in his tone. He waited for the inevitable flailing arms and rapid legs as Bella ran from him, away from his criminal, good-for-nothing-ass, but, of course, they never came. She simply stared at him, glanced back at Aro's cronies, and nodded slowly.

"I will, but only if you explain to me later," she bargained. "Trust works both ways, Cullen, and...I...I don't want anything to happen to you...your parole...I want _you_ to be safe too."

Cullen pressed his forehead to hers and kissed her nose. "I do trust you. You know that. I'll tell you everything when I see you." He rubbed his palms across her shoulders and down her arms in reassurance. "You don't need to worry about me, baby."

She didn't look convinced, "Promise?"

"I promise, Peaches."

With his hand set protectively at the small of her back, Cullen followed Bella back out into the club, and passed the assholes who were still watching them surreptitiously. He waited by her side until she had located Leah, shouldering a guy hard when he whistled at Bella as she passed.

"The fuck you whistling at?" Cullen growled. The guy, after looking up at the red-eyed, six-two potential maniac, immediately made a hasty retreat.

Bella came back with Leah who eyed him appreciatively and introduced herself with an awkward handshake. Bella kissed him softly on the cheek and left, with Cullen promising wholeheartedly to see her later. At the thought of crawling into bed with her in a few hours time, his entire body simultaneously felt bereft and relieved when he saw her walk into the foyer and out of the building. Yeah, he missed the hell out of her.

"I should have sent that fucking kiss," he grumbled to himself.

He sauntered back to Paul who was looking decidedly suspicious of Cullen's absence and wholly uncomfortable with still being in the club.

"Where's Jake?" Cullen asked as the barman slid him another beer.

"The john," he replied. "Fucker is knocking the shots back like it's his damned job."

Cullen swallowed his beer as he considered Paul's words. He looked down at his watch. It was almost two. "We'll give her another hour."

Paul rolled his eyes and slammed his glass onto the bar. "We've been here for three! She's not coming, Cullen," he hissed. "You know it. I know it. We _all_ know it apart from Jake. It was a ridiculous idea."

Paul's attitude grated on Cullen's nerves. "Then why the fuck did she give you that piece of paper?"

Paul shrugged clearly sick to death of thinking that exact same thing. "Beat's me, but the bitch is playing him."

"You're right," a voice slurred from behind them both.

Cullen and Paul turned to find Jake listing drunkenly to the right.

Paul instantly felt like a total asshole. "Look," he began, "Jake, man-..."

Jake held his palm up to stop him and took a staggered step towards Cullen. "Did you get your Cop Girl?" he asked as he scrunched Cullen around the shoulders.

Cullen looked at his friend with as little sympathy as he could, but, fuck, that shit was hard to pull off. He forced a smile and raised his eyebrows. "Yeah," he answered. "Yeah, I did."

"Well!" Jake bellowed. "That shit deserves a drink."

He ordered another round of drinks which he polished quickly before ordering another. Knowing that they were in for a long night, Paul and Jared put Rosalie and the girls into two cabs, and paid the drivers double to make sure they got home safely. Paul's face was thunderous when he returned to find Jake leaning on Cullen's shoulder.

"We need to get him home," Cullen said quietly over the top of Jake's head. He noticed the two beef cakes in his periphery and felt his stomach tighten. Something deep in the back of his mind told him that all was definitely not copasetic.

"No!" Jake mumbled with a wobbly shake of his head. "Nessie...she...said she'd...I need to see her."

"I know, dude," Cullen placated. "But we've been here all night." He glanced at his watch. "They close in an hour, Jake."

Jake's face crumpled once more and his cheek smacked into Cullen's shoulder. "I...I just wanted to see her, Cullen. I...I love..."

"I know," Cullen replied with a hand on Jake's head. He rubbed his friend's hair and patted his shoulder. It wasn't the most affectionate gesture, but between the two men it was enough.

With gentle coaxing, Paul and Cullen managed to hold Jake up so that they could make their way out of the club. Cullen kept his eyes away from the two assholes that had watched him and Bella earlier that night and, as they made it out of the front door, escorted his friend across the street and down a back alley towards a cab.

"You never could handle your drink, Black!"

Cullen made to turn around to see who had shouted, but Paul shook his head. "Ignore them, man. That's what they want."

"Who?" Cullen asked with narrowed eyes.

"The pricks that have been on our asses since we arrived at the club."

"You noticed?" Cullen said in surprise.

"Yeah," Paul muttered. "I noticed."

"Fuckers," Cullen muttered as Jake leaned into him and sparked a smoke.

From the voice that had shouted, Cullen knew that it was one of the doormen. Which one, he couldn't be certain, but he knew that they were being followed because, like Paul had said, they had all been recognised from the minute they all set foot in the damned place. He also knew that, from the sound of heavy, approaching footsteps, there were at least three of them.

"You not come with a date tonight, Black?" another voice called with a smug smile. "These two pussies all you could manage or were you waiting for someone special?"

Jake cursed and flicked his half smoked cigarette to the floor. "Fuck you," he slurred as he turned around to face the three men, despite Cullen holding his shoulders. Cullen, Paul and Jake came to a stop to see the men approach from the shadows of the alleyway.

"Oh, nice language," a tall, black, man-mountain called sarcastically. "You toss his salad with that mouth?" He pointed to Cullen as he spoke.

"Back the fuck off, man," Cullen said as calmly as he could.

He was surprised to see that the guys were dressed in normal clothes: jean, shirts, and boots. They may not have been dressed for the occasion, but the fuckers worked for Aro and no mistake. Like shit in a snow storm, you could spot them a mile away.

"We don't want trouble," Paul said firmly. "We're going home."

"How sweet," man-mountain continued. "Rick, ain't that sweet?"

"Very," _'Rick'_ replied dryly. He rubbed his hands across his mouth and took a step forward, "Jacob Black Junior," He murmured darkly. "Edward Anthony Mason Cullen, and Paul the lap dog."

"It's amazing the shit that you find in New York these days," man-mountain chimed.

Cullen sniggered at the theatrics before him.

"You find something funny, asshole?" Rick asked as he rubbed his right fist in his left palm.

"Yeah," Cullen snapped back. "I find _you_ fucking hilarious, dickweed."

Rick smirked and nodded. "Of course you do." He looked around the alleyway as though searching for someone. "Shame you don't have your fuck hot little Cop Girl to protect you now, huh? Or is she off riding another loser's cock while you're taking your bitch home?"

_Oh, no, motherfucker._

Cullen's fists clenched hard at his sides as the anger inside him bubbled under his skin like lava. Even as he felt his vision start to turn to a deadly red mist, he was suddenly pleased that the switch blade in his sock had not been checked on entry to the club.

"Watch. Your. Fucking. Mouth," he growled, stepping toe-to-toe with Rick. He was more than a little pleased that he stood a good two inches above him.

"Or what, parole boy?"

"Or I'll shut it for you," Cullen countered easily, not giving a shit that his freedom was being threatened.

"I doubt it," the fucker answered. "From what I hear, you're all mouth and no action, much like our good friend, Mr. Black here; always waiting around for someone who doesn't give a flying fuck about him."

He leaned patronisingly towards Jake and cupped his hand around his mouth. "She doesn't want you, you fucking retard."

Jake staggered towards him, devastation ripping across his face. "Fuck you!"

"Aro wants me to tell you to stay the fuck away," Rick continued quickly. "Tonight was the last time he will show any patience with any of you in his club. Forget Vanessa and focus on paying up, Black."

Cullen held Jake's arm tightly, wanting nothing more than to fuck Rick's shit up in such a way that he would be breathing through a fucking tube for the rest of his life.

"You get that, Black?" Rick yelled.

Cullen stepped forward, placed his hands on Rick's chest, and pushed with all of his strength, making the shit head careen backwards with a loud oomph.

"Yeah," Cullen said calmly, before anyone reacted. "He gets it. Now, back the fuck up and go back to sucking Aro's dick like a good little fudge packer. Kay, _Rick_?"

"Fudge packer?" Rick snorted before meeting Cullen's gaze dead on. "Yeah, I'll be sure to chant that when I'm fucking your blonde cop girl up her warm, tight ass!"

Cullen's first punch was lightening fast and landed squarely onto Rick's nose. The sickening crunch that preceded it was altogether too satisfying under Cullen's knuckle and was followed by another directly in his pudgy assed gut. He didn't, however, see where the fist that connected with his own face came from, nor did he see who threw it. All he did see was a blinding flash of light behind his eyelids and an excruciating pain that exploded in his right cheek.

Stumbling back, and aware of more hard hits raining down all around him, Cullen fought back with rage and fury before the taste of asphalt, blood, and rain water enveloped his mouth when his head smacked hard against the sidewalk that he had been standing on.

**Holy shit,**** Cullen was a vamp, Batman!**

**Repeat after me…It'll be okay, it'll be okay, it'll be okay…I hope those big girl panties lasted.**

**I'm sorry once again for the lack of schmexy times, but the chapter just got so long that I had to split it!**

**Peaches' Halloween costume is on my profile…go run and see!**

**Follow me on Twitter for updates and teasers:- (at)sophiejax**

**Follow PAW on Twitter :- (at)PunkAssWard**

**I just want to reiterate that I ****AM**** a HEA girl.**

**Update as and when. RL is chaos, but, the bright side is, I already have 4,000 words of it written!**

**Leave me love…or hate…**

**TTFN xxx**


	31. Chapter 31

**Hello!**

**Sorry about the four day delay. Work has been manic. I know you all understand. I appreciate your patience more than you know.**

**Thank you again for all the reviews. You're all amazing. I read every one, and every one inspires me to write.**

**To all my Princesses on Twitter, to the girls on the PoF thread, I cannot say enough. Thank you for being such fantastic people.**

**We left Cullen a little worse for wear last chapter, so I won't keep you any longer.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 30: ****Reconnecting**

_The greatest distance on earth is not north and south, _

_it is when I am right in front of you, _

_and you do not know that I love you. ~ __**Unknown**_

Vanessa Bartollini knew on the day that she met Jacob Black that she would love him for the rest of her life. He had been a vision as he walked into her father's office that first day: proud, arrogant, and just about the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on.

He had not seemed to notice her, sitting meekly in the corner of the room, eying him in wonder. And that was just fine. Vanessa wasn't sure how she would feel about being busted for ogling one of her father's workers. She didn't have much to do with her father's 'activities' both legal and not so legal, and fraternising with any one of the young men that were constantly flowing through the house was discouraged completely by her parents. It had been pure fluke that Vanessa had even been in the office that day. Or maybe, as Vanessa liked to think, it had been fate.

Vanessa had never been that interested in boys, most likely because of her father's overt protectiveness. Of course, she had many girlfriends who had boyfriends, and she had seen some of the female house staff fawning over the nicer looking guys that worked for the family – one particular guy named Cullen had gotten some serious attention. But she had never seen the appeal.

Jacob, however, was different.

His skin was the most beautiful russet colour that she had ever seen and he was broad-chested and muscular in a way that made her mouth dry. His hair was midnight black - like his eyes - and his smile was so wide and bright that it made her stomach twist in excitement. At the age of twenty-two, Vanessa became an ardent believer in love at first sight.

Those first few times that they had encountered one another - by simply being in the same room - he was dismissive and slightly curt. He was polite, of course, she _was_ the boss's daughter, but it always seemed forced and appeared to be a complete struggle for him. He barely spoke and his smiles that she loved seeing so much were tight and fleeting.

Looking back, it was funny to think how they had behaved with each other.

His rudeness was explained the night of her twenty-third birthday when, as Vanessa turned to storm away from his continuously ignorant ass, he had grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back to him before kissing her so passionately that she could barely breathe.

It turned out that Jacob had craved her as much as she had craved him, and, two weeks after the best birthday kiss she had ever had, and while at a hotel far away from anyone that would know them, he had confessed his feelings and made love to her until the sun rose. Jacob wasn't Vanessa's first, but it was so perfect that she wished it had been. He was gentle and tender as he moved within her while kissing her mouth and face, but he was also hard and firm when she begged it of him. He was incredible. He told her he loved her and wanted her forever, and Vanessa knew that she wanted the exact same thing.

The lovers snuck around for months; stealing chaste kisses and touches wherever they could. They enlisted the help of some of Jacob's friends, including Cullen, to keep their whereabouts as quiet as possible, but it wasn't easy. Vanessa's father watched his daughter like a hawk; he always had done, but something in his questions and manner over the first twelve months of her secret relationship, made her think that he wasn't altogether oblivious to what was going on. As much as Vanessa loved her father, she wasn't naive enough to ignore the potential threat that he posed to her and Jacob. He _was_ a dangerous man.

Jacob tried to ease her fears and even took more jobs from Aro in an effort to show his respect to him, even though, at that point, he had his own business to deal with. Jacob talked constantly about their future together - marriage was mentioned - and he promised Vanessa fervently that he would look after her no matter what.

She had believed every word that he said to her and reciprocated his promises with her own, as well as her body. They were insatiable for one another, seemingly breathing easier as soon as they were joined together. The moments of quiet, breathless, warmth as they enjoyed their post-orgasmic glows together were Vanessa's favourite. She would hold onto her Jacob so tightly that he would start to laugh at her 'freaky super-human strength.' She would never tell him that the reason she held onto him so hard was because the thought of losing him scared her to death.

It terrified her. It made her skin cold and her heart stutter.

And then she was late. A week late. A month late. She was always like clockwork, and she and Jacob had been careful. Well, most of the time.

It had taken two months and three pregnancy tests for her to work up the courage to tell Jacob, and, when she did, she had cried for four hours straight. Jacob had been a tower of strength, whispering words of comfort and support. He told Vanessa how happy he was and how much he wanted to be a family. He proposed with her in his arms, smiling that beautiful smile when Vanessa accepted through a haze of tears and sniffles.

For a short, sweet time, they had a perfect imaginary road ahead of them. They made plans, grabbed passports and decided to elope. Vanessa knew that her mother would be crushed and that her father would be baying for blood, but she knew they had little choice.

Aro Bartollini wanted only the best for his daughter, and a drug dealing, petty thief with a criminal record was not what he would class as 'the best'. But Vanessa knew in her heart that Jacob was right for her. He may have made some bad choices in the past, but he was a good man. Besides, she thought wryly to herself as she had packed her bag, her father was the last person on the face of the planet who had _any_ right to pass judgement.

She and Jacob were right for each other and, in her mind; the unexpected, but much wanted baby was simply another sign of that.

But, after only three weeks of their elopement, something went terribly wrong.

While Jacob was out at the store buying more food in preparation for their departure, three large, suit wearing men and Vanessa's mother turned up at the motel room that they had been living in. Vanessa never liked reliving what followed. All she remembered were screamed words of hate from her side and deadly calm threats from her mother's.

"I understand," her mother had explained quietly. "But Jacob is no good for you."

Baby or not, she had said firmly, Vanessa was to return home.

Of course, Vanessa had refused, vehemently. She was in love with Jacob, so much so that it made her head fuzzy, and they were going to have a son together: a beautiful black haired boy, who she would adore like his father. No-one could take that away from her. Promises had been made. Declarations of love and devotion.

How could her mother ask such a thing of her?

"Your father will kill him if you don't come back tonight."

Vanessa had vomited on the spot, catching some in her hand and coughing the rest up onto the floor. The ease at which the words had left her mother's mouth was so disturbing that there was no stopping her body's reaction to the threat.

Her own father. Her wonderful daddy who had been to every dance recital, music recital, and gradation party since she was five years old. Her mother continued to tell her what the consequences of her decision would be. She sat, stoic faced, on one of the two chairs that stood next to a small table where her daughter and Jacob had laughed and talked about their future only twelve hours before.

Vanessa was numb, terrified and heartbroken.

How could she make such a choice? Jacob, the man she loved with every fibre of her being, would forever be in danger should she make the wrong one. She couldn't live without him, but, more than that, she couldn't live in a world where he didn't exist. It would be torturous.

She laid her hands flat against her stomach, coughing back her devastation and her fear, and nodded slowly in defeat. She would find a way to get word to Jacob about what had happened, without him being threatened by her own flesh and blood. She carried _his_ flesh and blood and she would make damn sure that he had every chance to be part of his son's life.

But of all the messages she tried to get out to him in the following months, she never heard a word back. Not a whisper. At first she had come to the horrific conclusion that, regardless of her retuning home, her father had carried out his word. But, when she had seen some of Jacob's friend's on the property, she knew that he was still alive. As much as that knowledge calmed her, his silence ripped her apart, especially as their son continued to grow inside of her.

Weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, and still the quiet continued. All of Jacob's promises started to dissolve with each passing day, and Vanessa began to wonder whether he had meant anything of what he had said to her while they were together. Her father seemed to relish this fact, telling her that Jacob Back was a lying sack of shit and his intentions had simply been to get at him personally.

"He fucked you to fuck with me, Nessie. That was all."

His words continually made the wound in Vanessa's heart gape even wider for both her lost love and the father that she had come to realise, she had never really known at all.

On those difficult nights she clung unashamedly to the ring that Jacob had given to her on their first night of elopement. It was a simple silver band with a single diamond set into the metal. He had been embarrassed at first, telling her that she deserved more and that, once they were settled and the baby was born, he would buy her a ring fit for her 'perfect finger.'

_No._

Vanessa didn't believe her father for one moment. Their love had been very real and his words had been true. She just had to prove it to herself and, seeing Jacob's friend Paul coming out of her father's office for the first time five months ago had been the exact sign she had been waiting for. Vanessa bided her time, watched cautiously and waited patiently, seeing that he came once a month with a brown envelope. She had no idea what it was, but something deep within her heart told her that it was to do with her Jacob.

Finally, after mustering up courage she didn't even think herself capable of, and with a deep breath and pleading eyes, Vanessa had managed to sneak a message to Paul. Simple and discreet, and full of hope that Jacob would understand and come to her. It was a highly dangerous plan but, even if she simply saw him from across the club, it would be worth the trouble she would no doubt be in. It would be worth knowing that he still cared and wanted to see her.

Aro didn't have to know why Jacob was at the club for anything more than a good time.

And besides, if her father _did_ figure it out, _she_ would take the blame. She would take it all for Jacob.

When Vanessa had seen him, dressed as a werewolf and sandwiched between his friends, her heart had damn near beaten out of her chest. Tears filled her eyes and her hands immediately stifled the sob of relief and love that erupted from deep within her. Despite the costume that she couldn't help but smile at, he was still as breathtaking as she remembered. His dark eyes, which looked a little aged, scoured the crowd for her, which only made Vanessa more determined to approach him and fling herself into his arms.

But timing was everything.

Her father's henchmen were crawling around the place like cockroaches, and Vanessa knew without doubt that they would be watching her. Since the day she had left her heart on the bed of the motel on that fateful morning, she knew that there would be dangerous eyes forever aimed at her back and, by association, Jacob's.

It was for purely desperate and selfish reasons that she had asked him to risk himself by being in Aro's Bar, and Vanessa was instantly remorseful. _Stupid, stupid idiot._ What had she been thinking? He could get hurt, or worse. _And_ he had brought his friends: more innocents. She noticed Cullen, who had always been such a help when she and Jacob had first been together, and forever loyal, standing like a guard at Jacob's side. Vanessa breathed a little easier knowing that Jacob had such good people around him, but still admonished herself for dragging him back into the lion's den.

If her father's men even presumed that Jacob was there to see Vanessa the shit would hit the fan.

"You fucking moron, Vanessa," she had mumbled into her palm as tears fell down her cheeks while she stood alone in the dark shadowed corner of the club. There was no way that she could approach Jacob or his friends. And there was no way to get a message to him. Her perfect plan was suddenly, and devastatingly, not so perfect.

In her panic, she had placed a call from an untraceable phone to the person that had given it to her. The only person that she knew she could trust above all others.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, but I need your help." Vanessa paused and glanced around herself. "Jacob's in the club."

"So?"

"I invited him."

"You did what?"

"I was desperate...I...I wasn't thinking!"

"No shit you weren't thinking, Nessie! Dammit!" There was a long pause and a variety of mumbled curses tumbled down the receiver. "Has he been seen?"

"Yes," she replied quickly. "As have I. I'm worried. They haven't made a move yet-"

"They will."

"I know and...Please. They'll hurt him."

"Or kill him."

Vanessa closed her eyes and fought hard to stop the tears that threatened. "Just...please...You know I would never ask if it wasn't important. Can you help?"

There was a beat of silence that lasted long enough for Vanessa's heart to drop to her feet in despair.

"Text me when they leave. I'll be there." The call came to an abrupt end.

Vanessa continued to watch Jacob and his friends and felt her heart ache as, all night; he threw back drink after drink. Placing a desperate hand on the picture locket that was draped lovingly around her neck, she realised with a sigh that she was the cause of his anger and distress. She had hurt him so badly. She had shattered every promise that she had ever made to him and left him alone to pick up the pieces. She was a despicable human being and a liar to boot.

Christ, she wanted nothing more than to hold him and kiss it better while telling him how much she had missed him; how much she loved him, still.

Every day she thought of him and what could have been. She, Jacob and their beautiful son…

But, realistically, he could do nothing but hate her. Vanessa slumped against the wall at that particular thought. She deserved nothing less. She had wounded him in a way that she would never forgive herself for and, no matter whether it was because of her father or not, she should have believed in the love that they had shared and told her mother to go and fuck herself.

But Jacob had come. Hadn't he? He was _there._ After almost two years of lies and silent heartache, she had sent him a message, and he had come. Could it be possible? Could he still care for her?

She stayed in the shadows, sipping her drink slowly while she sent her text as Cullen picked Jacob up, and the three friends that were left made their way out of the club. Vanessa hung back, not wanting her movements to be too obvious to the men that were still watching her. She managed to wait five minutes before she took herself through the back staff exit, hurrying past more of her father's minions. They were everywhere, spreading around the place like a fucking disease.

She was half way down the alleyway at the back of the club with a cigarette in her hand, and was just about to pull her cell out again in impatience, when she heard the loud, unforgiving siren of a police car which was followed quickly by the thunder of pounding, panicked feet on asphalt.

Vanessa dove into the shadows quickly and peeked around the alley wall as three of her father's assholes shot past like their asses were on fire. Her chest cracked. _Oh God, Jacob_. Had her call been too late?

For an age she stood, glued to the spot; her eyes set on the street where the men had appeared. She couldn't risk moving, but everything in her body told her to go to her Jacob. She prayed like she had never prayed before that he was safe, and that they had not harmed him.

"Ms. Bartollini?"

Vanessa froze for one second before she flicked open her lighter and took a giant pull on her cigarette. She pulled her cell from her pocket and held it to her ear, just as Marcus sauntered around the corner like the sleazy, sneaky prick that he was. It was just a good thing that he seemed to have a fascination with her. It seemed to cloud his judgement wherever she was concerned.

"Fucking shitty signal," she grumbled loud enough for him to hear as her smoke dangled from her lips. She continued to act as though the cell was fucked before throwing her hands in the air in frustration. "I need a new phone," she spat as Marcus smiled down at her.

"Whatever you need, Ms. Bartollini."

Vanessa narrowed her eyes at him. Shady fucker. "What I _need_ is to get home and out of the freezing cold. It's fucking arctic out here."

Vanessa flicked her smoke down the alley, glancing back briefly at the same street that she knew Jacob was on, and stormed past an oblivious looking Marcus.

"Take me home," she barked as she felt the cell phone in her hand vibrate with a message.

"Of course," Marcus replied as he looked at her askance, gesturing down the alley towards the brightly lit street.

Vanessa waited until she was seated comfortably in the back of the black sedan before she allowed herself the luxury of looking at her cell. Her throat was arid as she did.

**He's fine**** and on his way home. I'll be in touch. Be careful.**

Vanessa felt the air in her lungs escape in one long rush of relief and her eyes were instantly filled with tears. She clasped a hand to her chest as her heart hammered against her ribs.

_Her Jacob was fine. _

"Do you want me to stop anywhere, Ms. Bartollini?" Marcus asked from the front seat of the car as he glanced at her in the rear view mirror.

"No," Vanessa answered evenly as she pushed her cell phone back into her bag. "Just get me home."

She smiled to herself as she leaned her head back against the car seat and watched the city fly past. "I want to see my son."

=PoF=

The clerk on the front desk of the Belmont building looked petrified as Cullen walked towards him. Fred's eyes widened infinitely at the appearance of the tall, broad, tattooed man before him, and his throat started to close around the words that formed there. The guy looked like hammered shit and then some.

"C-can I help you, Sir?" he choked as he rubbed his palms down his own uniform covered chest.

It was past four in the damn morning, all this guy would be after was trouble. Fred let the tip of his finger whisper under the desk across the silent alarm that was connected to the police precinct twelve blocks away.

"Yeah," Cullen answered with a small wince as his jaw moved. "Miss Swan said that she would leave a key for me." He pulled his driver's license from his wallet and slid it across the desk. "I'm Cullen."

Fred looked down quickly at the card and then flicked his gaze back to Cullen. Well, there _was _a similarity, although, it was hard to tell under all the damage.

"It _is_ me," Cullen said through a forced smile that hurt every inch of the right side of his face. "I promise."

Fred looked utterly sceptical and about three seconds from phoning the fucking fuzz. Cullen had had enough of that shit in the past two hours to last him a damn life time.

"Look," he said as he stepped forward, making Fred lean back. "She left a key, right?"

Fred narrowed his eyes before nodding.

"How would I know that?" Cullen asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Fred sighed and shrugged in acknowledgement of Cullen's point. Miss Swan had said that her visitor looked a little scary, but this was something else. This guy was scary_ and_ dangerous. What the hell was she doing with him?

"Okay," Fred conceded as he pulled the spare key and elevator card from the safe drawer. He paused. "Do you know which floor?"

"Yeah," Cullen nodded. He winked and smirked. "I _have_ been here before." He smiled again, more genuinely this time and took all that he needed before making his way across the lobby to the elevators. Cullen gave a gentile and appreciative wave back at the poor bastard before he disappeared inside of it.

His head was throbbing like a fucking bitch and he knew that he had likely fractured, or at the very least bruised a rib. His cheek didn't feel too fucking fabulous either. He looked at his obscured reflection in the aluminium walls of the elevator. Yeah, not at all a good look. No wonder the fucking waif on the desk looked petrified. He looked like a damn axe murderer. He sure as shit wouldn't have let his ass in if he had been in Fred's shoes.

Creeping along the hallway of Bella's floor, Cullen wondered if she would still be awake. It was late, maybe too late for him to be at her apartment, but she had invited him and he was sure as hell in need of her touch. What the fuck she would make of his face, God alone knew. If she was asleep he would simply slide right in next to her. He would risk a small grope, but he would let her sleep. He couldn't fucking wait to feel her skin under his hands. His mouth. His body.

With a small click the lock on Bella's door gave and he tapped his knuckles on the door frame twice in warning. He didn't want to scare the shit out of her if she was still up. He opened the door slowly and leaned his head cautiously around it. He immediately felt his heart give two large thwacks in his chest at what he saw.

Bella was curled up on the sofa like a small cat, dressed in a retro _Transformers_ t-shirt that was way too fucking small and little shorts that cupped her ass perfectly. Her hands were clasped tightly under her right cheek and her hair - sans blonde wig - was tousled and wavy, and lay around her like a chocolate halo. She was sound asleep and Cullen couldn't help but smile down at her as she pouted and sighed. He noticed her cell phone was tucked into her side with the text messages that he had sent explaining his lateness, clear on the screen.

Cullen sat down quietly on the edge of the coffee table and simply looked at her.

Goddamit but she was beautiful. He'd never seen anything more so, and, weirdly, it seemed that her beauty increased every time that he saw her. He'd never been one for beauty. Of course, he knew a smoking hot woman when he saw one, but his Peaches was so much more than that.

She was naturally stunning, with spectacular skin and plump lips that ached to be kissed. Her eyes would be the death of him, officially, and her body was fucking magnificent. Her curves were all woman and entirely perfect. He'd gladly spend his life getting to know every inch of her, and, deep in the back of his brain, a small voice pleaded with her to allow him that exact pleasure.

Cullen wasn't stupid; he knew that he was in deep with the woman before him. He knew that she was in his mind and heart and that she had the latter well and truly soldered to the palms of her small hands. He just prayed to all that was holy that she would handle it with care should she ever become aware of that fact. The damn thing was already too scarred to cope with any more damage.

He exhaled long and low at that particular thought, and let his eyes roam greedily, yet reverently, over her sleeping form.

Yeah, he conceded, if he were able, he would sit and watch his Bella sleep forever.

Of that, he was completely certain.

Moving slowly from his seat, he kneeled by her and let his fingers whisper across the side of her face. She stirred slightly and mumbled something that he couldn't decipher.

"Bella," he murmured as he let his nose travel up her jaw. Fuck, she smelled good. "Baby, it's me."

"Mmm," she answered. Cullen could see her eyes moving under the soft lids. "C-Cullen?"

"Yeah, it's me," he replied as he slid his palm down the skin of her forearm. "Wanna go to bed?" he asked with a small smile.

Bella breathed in deeply through her nose and nodded. Her eyes remained shut but her lips twitched at the obvious innuendo in his voice.

"Come on, sweetheart," Cullen said as he pushed his right arm under her legs and his left under her shoulder.

"Wh-whatcha doin'?" she croaked as she flailed a little in hazy awareness.

"Taking my girl to bed," he replied as he stood with a groan as a sharp pain shot up his back. He clasped Bella to his chest as he gingerly made his way around the couch. "Sleep, Bella," he crooned softly into her hair.

"You're here," she whispered into his neck in sudden realisation as Cullen walked in the direction he assumed her bedroom was in. "My Edward is here."

Cullen snorted gently and felt his chest squeeze at her words. He noticed with relief that her bedroom door was open at the end of the hallway, and made his way inside.

"I am," he said as he kissed her temple. "I said I would be. I'm just sorry I'm late."

"S'okay," she hissed as he placed one knee on her bed and laid her down on it. She instantly whined as he pulled away and clutched at his jacket.

"I'm coming back," he smiled as he kissed her lips and wandered back into the living room to grab the bag that he had packed in a frenzy, back at his apartment.

Even though it had only taken him sixty seconds, by the time he returned to Bella's bedroom, she was snuggled under the covers and was, once more, out for the count. Cullen laughed lightly as he placed his bag at the end of the bed and shook off his jacket, jeans and boots, and t-shirt, leaving him butt ass naked. He hissed and cursed as he stretched his back, feeling his entire body ache. He could have done with a hot bath, but he had been so eager to get to Bella that all he had done was wash his face and change his clothes.

Gently, he pulled back the covers and slid in next to Bella. Before he could manoeuvre himself closer to her, she had turned over to face him and was curled tightly into his chest: warm, sweet, and humming in contentment. Cullen flinched as the top of her head pushed against his jaw.

"You smell good," she muttered dreamily into his chest as she wrapped her arm across his stomach.

"You smell good too," Cullen chuckled, "Peachy."

"_Your_ Peaches," Bella retorted with a small yawn as she nuzzled him.

Cullen closed his eyes and nodded. "That's right, baby," he whispered with a smile. "Mine."

Holding her closely, he kissed her hair gently and allowed himself to relax for the first time all night. His muscles throbbed and his brain hurt with the surreal events of the past twelve hours. As slumber began to take him, he realised that there would be plenty of questions heading his way in the morning.

Many of which, even_ he_ didn't know the answer to.

=PoF=

It was warm.

It was so freaking nice and warm, and comfortable. It was nice, warm and comfortable, and, for some reason, sexy as fuck.

There was softness and sweet scents and, if he moved his hips in a certain direction, Cullen's bare cock was rubbed in a way that made him hiss loudly through his teeth. His right hand quickly found a soft mound of flesh that he squeezed as his nose buried itself deeper into peach smelling hair. He felt a small peak in his palm and let his finger rub around it in slow circles.

There was a moan.

Yeah, that sound travelled straight to his damn cock, making him groan in reply. He let his finger get busy on that sweet peak while his mouth latched hungrily onto the small piece of skin that was peering from under her hair. Cullen let his tongue wander across the smooth, pale skin as his brain began to waken up and catch up with the rest of what his body blatantly wanted. He opened his eyes to see that it was still fairly dark, but had no clue as to what time it was or how long he had been asleep. Not that he gave a shit. He was spooning his Peaches from behind, in her bed, and she felt fucking amazing.

_Fuck._

Bella started to wind her hips in a figure of eight, teasing his dick with about fifty percent of the friction that it actually needed.

"Bella," he murmured into her shoulder as, once again, her hips pushed back eagerly against his. "Are you awake?" he grunted.

"Yes," she replied in a breathy sexy voice that set his body on fire. "Cullen," she gasped as he squeezed her tit and flicked his thumb across her nipple. "Are you naked?"

"Yes," he breathed as he rubbed himself against her, "Naked and hard as fuck for you."

"Christ," she moaned as she pushed her head back and let him feast on her throat and neck.

"Feel that?" Cullen asked as he rubbed his cock against her amazing ass.

"Mmhm," she replied.

"That's all for you, baby."

"God, you feel so good."

"You too," he answered while his palm trailed down her smooth stomach to between her legs. They both gasped when Cullen's impatient hand pushed its way past the elastic of her shorts, and finally came to rest between her bare pussy lips.

"Damn," he sighed as his mouth touched the tip of her shoulder.

Feeling bold and desperate for her, Cullen extended his index finger and rubbed Bella's clit unhurriedly, making her whisper his name and grip the hair at the back of his head.

"Cullen," she purred deep in her throat, making his cock ache.

"I need you soaked, baby," he demanded as his fingers picked up the pace and dipped teasingly against her damp opening. "I need you fucking drenched for what I'm going to do to you."

"Yes," Bella replied as she moved at his side; simultaneously rubbing his dick and fucking his hand with sharp thrusts of her hips. "Please."

"That's it," he murmured as he nibbled on her jaw. His fingers began to move smoothly over her skin that was becoming more swollen and wet by the second. "Give me more, Bella."

"Oh God," she moaned. The fingers of her right hand buried themselves in his hair while her left hand gripped his wrist just above where it disappeared into her shorts. She turned her head and kissed his cheek, whimpering for his lips on hers.

Cullen gave her his mouth and pushed his tongue deeply into hers, tasting her and lapping at her lips like a starving man.

"I need to see you," Bella panted as she yanked his wrist and, subsequently, his hand from her pussy, and turned around, pushing Cullen onto his back, and quickly straddled his waist.

The fuck awful pain that shot through his side as she did was countered instantly by the rush of ecstasy that Cullen felt when Bella grabbed his dick and began to pump her small hand up and down it. Cullen groaned as her mouth met his and grabbed her hips in an effort to anchor himself. Woman drove him insane. He could easily lose himself in her and what they had together in moments like this. He was a slave for her; at her mercy, and he fucking loved it.

"Sweet Christ," he moaned into Bella's mouth when her hand swirled across the tip of his cock, smearing his pre-cum all over the soft skin of his length.

"Good?" she asked coyly as she did it again.

"Fuck yes," Cullen replied as his hands grabbed at the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it violently over her head. His mouth was instantly on her right nipple, biting and licking and feasting on her delectable body. His hunger for her grew furiously as he mumbled nonsense into her chest.

_You feel so good. I've missed feeling this. I've missed _you_._

Bella threw her head back in pleasure, oblivious to Cullen's ramblings, and moaned for him. He felt sublime beneath her. She wanted to own him like he owned her._ Every_ inch. Every grunt and cry for more would be hers. She needed his breaths; his growls and his tongue against hers. With her free hand, she grabbed roughly at Cullen's face to pull him back to her so that she could taste his mouth once again. _He tasted so damn good_. One flick of his tongue was all it ever took to set her entire body on fire.

The hiss, groan, and curse that left him when she touched his face, however, was nothing like the sounds of pleasure that she had elicited from him before. He pulled back from her with a sharp flinch, and dropped his chin to his chest.

"Motherfucker," he growled as his palm settled on his cheek and sucked in air through his teeth. "Shit."

Bella was instantly concerned, and became still against him. "What is it?" she asked him in the half darkness. She felt a rush of air leave his chest as she let go of his cock and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Cullen, what is it?"

"It's nothing," he answered quickly. "Don't worry about it." He waved his hand dismissively. "Just kiss me. Please."

His hands were immediately in her hair, and he pressed his lips firmly against hers. But, fuck it all to hell; she pulled back, rubbing his forearms to ease the sting of her rejection. He paused with his face mere inches from hers, tracing her profile with his eyes, sensing that the intimate moment had dissolved into the air around them.

Releasing her hair, Cullen grumbled and slumped against the headboard of the bed with a loud thump. "Jesus, it's no big deal," he griped. She continued to sit silently, making Cullen feel inexplicably uncomfortable. He wanted to be honest with her, but he knew that she was bound to have a fucking opinion. She always did.

"It's...it's..." he pointed to his cheek. "My face is just sore, is all."

Isabella frowned and felt her heart stutter in her chest. "Your face is sore?" she repeated in confusion.

"Yeah."

Isabella shook her head to clear the feeling of dizziness that crept around her mind and the nausea that wrapped around her stomach.

"Why?" she asked timidly.

Cullen took a deep breath and clasped the bridge of his nose which simply incensed her. Hadn't he promised to be open and honest with her? Hadn't he promised that he would explain everything? She pushed off of him in annoyance, feeling her brow sweat slightly when she heard him moan in pain, and flicked on the lamp at the side of the bed.

What she saw ripped the air from every inch of her lungs.

The right side of Cullen's face was severely bruised and swollen, and was tinted with light blues, deep purples, and an angry wound that covered his temple. His eyebrow was punctuated by a deep cut that looked to still have dirt in it, and the right side of his mouth was scabbed from where it had been bust open. Isabella's eyes travelled down his chest to his left side, and let her fingertips trace the deep bruise that was forming along his ribs. He was a glorious mess and Isabella was suddenly terrified.

"Who did this?" she whispered as her throat began to close.

"No-one important," Cullen replied with a deep sigh.

Isabella's eyes flashed fierce and wide. _Fuck that._ "No-one important?" she snapped. "For fuck's sake, Cullen, you look like hell!"

Cullen stared back at his Peaches and felt his anger begin to bubble. "So?" he questioned childishly. "Calm the fuck down. They were assholes who needed a lesson in manners and-..."

"And _what_?" Isabella barked. "_You_ were the asshole to teach them?"

Before Cullen could respond, Isabella had crawled off of the bed, grabbed her t-shirt, and had stormed across the room towards the door, opening it with such force that it slammed into the opposite wall.

Cullen gritted his teeth and threw the quilt back, standing from the bed with a grimace. He stopped momentarily to put his jeans on to cover up his bare ass.

"Fucking woman," he growled to himself as he walked out into the apartment towards the sound of loud banging. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked incredulously as he approached the kitchen to see Bella slam something down onto the kitchen counter.

"I'm getting some ice for your fucking face, what the hell does it look like?" she shot back without turning to him.

Cullen noticed the quiver that resided in her voice. "I don't need ice," he replied, feeling more and more like the asshole she had accused him of being. "It happened a few hours ago."

"Your face is swelling still. You need ice," she retorted coldly.

Cullen sighed and leaned against the breakfast bar as Bella stomped from one side of the kitchen to the other, placing the ice chips that she had smashed into a towel.

"Was it those guys in the club?" she asked with dangerous calm.

Cullen looked down at his sore side and shook his head. "No," he answered quietly.

"But they had something to do with it. That's why you told me to leave."

"Yeah."

"Were you alone?"

"No. I was with Jake and Paul. There were three of them." Cullen watched as Bella paused and cleared her throat.

"Did they have...did they have weapons?"

"No. Just their hands and feet," Cullen let his tongue lick at the dry blood on his lip. "I got pushed to the ground. They kicked me in the ribs." He heard Bella gasp slightly. "I couldn't get my knife out in time."

He jumped when Bella threw the metal ice tray hard into the sink. "A knife," she muttered angrily with a shake of her head. Cullen could see that her mouth was pulled into a tight line. "You're so _fucking_ stupid."

Cullen felt his hackles rise again. "I'm not fucking stupid, Bella," he defended sharply. "It's because of pricks like them that I carry a knife in the first damn place."

She span around to face him, and thrust the towel and ice at him. "Here," she ordered with wild, furious eyes.

"I don't need it," he said again with a huff.

"Just take the fucking thing, Cullen!" Bella yelled as huge tears slipped down her face.

_Shit_. Cullen's defences fell instantly to the floor, and he quickly stepped to her while trying to cup her face in comfort, but Bella moved back and shook her head. Cullen's heart stood still for one terrifying moment.

"Don't," she muttered pleadingly. "Please...just...don't."

"Bella," Cullen begged as he moved closer to her; his anger and annoyance almost forgotten. "Talk to me. Why are you crying?"

She sniffed through her tears. "Because _I'm_ fucking stupid," she snapped back through her tears before she placed the towel firmly against Cullen's face. He sucked in a breath and cursed, grabbing Bella's wrist reflexively as the cold penetrated the swell of his cheek.

Taking a deep breath while opening his eyes gradually, Cullen looked down at her and felt his chest rip wide fucking open when he saw the expression on her face. It was petrified, desolate and hurt. _He'd_ done that. He had made her upset and made her cry. He had promised long before that he would never be _that_ guy and here he was: shattering every fucking word. Cullen leaned into the ice and sighed. Carefully, as not to frighten Bella away again, he lifted his hand and rubbed tenderly at the tears that were sitting under her large pained eyes.

"I'm fine, Bella, really," he whispered. He frowned when he saw her look away, and continued to cry quietly. "Don't cry, _please_."

She kept the ice resting on his face, but her gaze would not meet his. Her tears slowly began to abate, but Cullen could still feel the ferocity coming off of her in waves.

"You might..._not_ have been fine, Cullen," she said after an age of heavy silence. "You could have been..._really_ hurt."

"But I'm-..."

"In the hospital...or...I wouldn't have even known..." Bella paused; her eyes taking on a far away glaze before she continued; "And what about your parole, huh?" she croaked, "If you had been...if the police..."

Cullen closed his eyes, "I know-..."

"You'd go back to prison, and where would that leave me, huh?" Bella's voice began to rise in pitch and volume. "Did you ever think of _that_?"

Cullen looked at down her to see that her tears had started again and her small shoulders had begun to shake with heaving sobs.

She bit her lip. Hard. "I'd be here...here, alone...and you'd be..."

"Bella," Cullen murmured as his lungs constricted at the pain in her words. She was bordering on hysterical and it frightened him to death. He had never seen her so undone; so panicked and scared. _Not since..._

"But you don't give a shit about that, right?" She accused with a jerk of her head, "As long as you look _tough_. You don't care that I...that I..."

Bella suddenly dropped her hand like a lead weight - the ice and towel falling loudly to the floor - and staggered back against the refrigerator. Her hands were in her hair, fisting it tightly.

"I'd lose you..." she muttered with closed eyes. "I can't...Oh God...Cullen. What if...? What if they...the guys...if they had had..._bats_?"

Cullen blinked in confusion at the breaking woman before him until her jumbled words started to make sense:

_Baseball b__ats that became deadly weapons. A dark night. A group of men descending like a fucking pack. Violently beating a man who was trying to protect his only daughter..._

"Oh, shit, Bella," Cullen groaned in realisation as her eyes met his and she started to slump down to the floor.

In two strides and before her ass touched the kitchen floor tiles, Cullen was in front of her, scooping her to his chest and grasping her as tightly as he could as she sobbed loudly into his shoulder. Her small arms wrapped around his neck, almost choking him, and her legs curled around his waist as she buried her face into his skin.

"Jesus. I'm...I didn't think..." he fumed at himself before whispering into her ear: "Shhh, I'm here. Bella, I'm alright. I'm here, baby."

She wept and whimpered as he held her as close to his own body as he could. Cullen rocked gently, stroked her hair, and felt his heart break for his Bella as she fell apart in his arms. _And all because he couldn't hold his damn temper._ He had let her down badly. He had promised that she didn't have to worry about him and he had broken those very words that very same night. He was a piece of shit, and he was sorry. He was _so _fucking sorry.

He spoke the words softly into her hair as he placed gentle kisses down her temple.

With Bella still gripping his body as though her life depended on it, Cullen moved back towards the bedroom. Gently, he lay down with her and pulled the covers over them both. He was a clusterfuck of emotion as he tried to comfort the beautiful woman in his arms. She had been so angry with him for getting into the fight, but there was so much behind that anger.

She was angry because she _cared_. She - Isabella Swan - cared about his dumb, criminal ass. This wasn't exactly brand new information for Cullen to digest, but, hell, it was the first time that he had seen it in all its furious glory. She cared about him so much that she had not been able to contemplate losing him in any way, be it either by being thrown back in the clink or...some other way. She had nearly fallen at the thought: crushed by the weight of it.

_Holy shit._ She truly cared.

_Maybe she even..._

_Stop._

He closed his eyes and kissed Bella's clammy forehead as guilt and remorse began to spread throughout his entire body.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart, and I'm here."

He felt her small hands clutch his shoulders tighter at his words as her tears began to recede.

"Why?" she murmured against his throat. "Why did they hurt you?"

Cullen pulled her closer and exhaled loudly down his nose, "Because I'm stupid...and because of Jake."

Bella's silence told Cullen that she wanted him to continue and he knew unequivocally that he owed her that. He needed to be honest with her because he cared for her too...a lot. He needed to be honest with her because he trusted her and he needed her to understand.

"_Bar Aro_ is owned by one of the biggest criminals this side of the country, Aro Bartollini," Cullen began in a low voice. "Fuck, maybe he's one of the biggest in the Continental US. Jake and I, when we were younger, worked for him. We would run errands...drug errands, weapon errands, get messages to corrupt cops...it was fucked up, but the pay was insane. At the age of fifteen I was pulling in a grand a week just through doing Aro's bidding."

Bella didn't speak or move so Cullen continued.

"We worked up the ranks, became two of his main go-to guys. Aro helped Jake and I branch out on our own. We started pushing our own shit, created our own ring with our own guys. Of course Aro took a cut, but that was fine as long as Jake and I were able to do what we wanted." He rubbed his face gingerly. "We were just fucking kids, you know? We didn't have a fucking clue what we were getting into."

He breathed and relaxed slightly when he felt Bella's fingers trace across his collarbone. "Jake started seeing Aro's daughter, Vanessa. Aro wasn't aware because, even though he liked Jake, his daughter was not to be touched. It was like, some unwritten rule or some shit. No-one touched the Boss's property. Well Jake, the fucker, went and fell in love with her...got her fucking pregnant."

"He fell in love with her?" Bella whispered.

"Yeah," Cullen replied quietly as the tips of his fingers tip-toed across Bella's hair. "He said so...I don't know, I...I don't know. He must do, you know?"

"Aro found out?" Bella asked, seemingly ignoring Cullen's nervous stammering.

"Yeah. Christ, Bella, it was so messed up. They ran away after Aro had tried to get Jake arrested...but, of course, he found them. Jake returned to the motel one day to find her gone. No word. No explanation. Nothing. He was a fucking mess."

"Aro got to her?"

"Jake thinks so," Cullen answered with a slow nod. "But he can't seem to comprehend that _maybe_ she just might have thought better of their decision to leave. Jake's a good guy and I love him like a brother, but they would have been on the run forever; looking over their shoulders...that's no way to live, no matter how much you love someone."

Cullen remained silent for a beat as his words drifted around the room. "She made the choice that Jake couldn't."

Bella's palm caressed Cullen's chest as her lips moved against his jaw when she asked: "Could you have made that decision? The woman you love, and your child?"

Cullen had no clue. He had thought about Jake and Vanessa's situation a lot recently, what with the note and his own relationship with Bella, and he had come to the conclusion that he _would_ do what Jake was doing: paying Aro a debt that wasn't to do with drugs, but loyalty. But to put the woman that he loved in the position that Jake did with Vanessa? Cullen wasn't so sure he could.

"I don't know," he replied finally. "I really don't."

"So Jake's never seen his baby?" Bella asked with a long breath of sympathy.

"No. Vanessa lost the baby a month after she left him. He got a phone call late one night from some dude telling him that, due to all the stress, Vanessa had miscarried. That was all he was told. He wasn't even told if Vanessa was okay. It almost sent him over the edge."

"That's awful."

"Yeah."

Cullen continued to tell Bella about the message that Paul had received from Vanessa which resulted in their presence at Bar Aro. He told her about how drunk Jake had gotten, and the way that they had all been watched by Aro's men. He tried to explain why the fight had happened, but when he came to repeat what the motherfucker had said about his 'Cop Girl' and her ass; he found that his throat closed. Luckily Bella didn't push it. She simply lay in his arms and listened. Occasionally a shiver would travel up her back and Cullen would simply wrap himself and the covers around her more tightly.

"How the hell did you get away?" she asked as she lifted her head to look at him. Her eyes were red from lack of sleep and tears, but she still looked beautiful to him.

Cullen frowned in confusion. "I thought that we...that _I_ was fucked. I was still on the floor when I heard sirens-..."

"The police?" Bella exclaimed. "They saw you?"

"No," he answered quickly in an effort to calm her. "See, Bella, that's the thing. The sirens made the fuckers run like pussies, but I never saw any police. Even his car wasn't a police car. It just had a siren and a blue light. There was just _one_ guy. He helped me up, made sure Paul and Jake were okay from the beating they'd given them, and sent us on our way with a warning. It was the weirdest fucking thing."

Cullen thought back to the dark haired guy who had seemed oddly familiar to him. He never even asked for Cullen's name.

Bella's face screwed up in puzzlement. "So they didn't arrest you?"

Cullen shook his head, "Nope. I just grabbed Jake and we ran for a cab. Rosalie met us at Jake's with one of her friend's who's a nurse, and I left them to come and see you."

Bella's eyes looked utterly conflicted. "You came without seeing a nurse?"

Cullen sighed and fought back a smile at her annoyance. Rosalie had given him hell too. "I'm okay, Bella. I've had worse."

"It doesn't matter," she argued. "You're hurt. You should have-"

Cullen cut her words off with a kiss, smiling when he felt her melt into him little by little. It was a lazy, tender kiss and Cullen moaned softly when her tongue licked at his bust lip. The fact that she got so pissed at him for not seeking medical attention did strange fucking things to his insides. _She really cares..._

"I'm fine," he repeated as their lips parted. "I didn't need a nurse, Bella." He cupped her face and let his eyes wander over her. He stroked her hair and smiled. "I just needed _you_."

Bella's face crumpled slightly at his words and she leaned forward to capture his lips again. "I need you too," she whispered before kissing him twice more. "So please...don't do that again..." She gripped at his neck. "I...please be careful. I can't lose you _too_."

Cullen shook his head making their lips brush together. "You're not gonna lose me, baby. I'm here. I'm here." He clutched her wrists in his hands and placed them onto his chest, over his pounding heart. "Feel me, Bella, I'm here."

"I know," Bella replied with a voice that cracked. "I know." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him in a way that set Cullen's skin alight. "Show me," she pleaded with laboured breaths as she kissed his bruised cheek. "Be with me."

Cullen moaned into her mouth as their tongues touched, and pushed her onto her back; every inch of their bodies touching.

"Anything," he gasped as he kissed her back, "Just you and me."

He moved his hands down her body, sliding his palms over her delicious curves, and gripped the elastic of her shorts. Bella instinctively lifted her hips so that he could pull them down and, once they were off, he threw them across the room.

Bella sat up then and pulled off her own t-shirt. She groaned Cullen's name when, faster than she thought possible, he once again began to lather her breasts with hungry kisses and soft touches. He couldn't help that shit. Her tits were fucking stunning. Her nipples reacted so quickly to him, puckering under his finger tips: tight and eager.

The urgent urgency between them was diluted now, but the wanton desire that they had for each other was still very much there as Bella fumbled with the buttons on Cullen's fly. He helped her, with his mouth still attached to her right nipple, and shook them off as best as he could.

He kicked them out of the bed before dropping heavily between Bella's thighs. He grunted as his cock rubbed her stomach and sighed when her hands gripped at his hair. He flinched when she touched the parts of him that hurt and she apologised, but he couldn't get mad. It was his own damn fault that his face was battered and bruised.

Cullen's mouth moved to Bella's soft throat while he held himself up on the bed with his palms by her waist, gradually moving down the centre of her body. He was so fucking eager to taste her between her legs. He wanted her on his tongue: hot, wet and fruity. He dipped it first into her belly button making her back arch, but he was stopped from going any further by her firm hands on his biceps.

"No," she panted as her large brown eyes looked down at him. "I need you here." She pulled at him to move back up to her and wrapped her legs around his waist when he did.

"I'm here," Cullen repeated as he kissed her and knotted his hands into her hair. Their tongues danced and their bodies rubbed together creating a glorious friction. Cullen groaned at the feel of Bella's nails as they scored his back and swivelled his hips in impatience.

"Please," she begged. "Edward, please be inside of me."

"Fuck," he growled into her neck as he grabbed hold of his dick and placed it where they both wanted it. "Here, Bella?" he asked as he pressed the head to her pussy. She was still wet from their earlier touches.

"Is this where you want me?"

The heels of her feet dug into his ass. "_Yes_."

Gripping the pillow above her head while staring into her eyes and holding his breath, Cullen pushed slowly into her exquisite heat. _Oh, holy shit._ She was fucking sublime and he could barely think straight as she enveloped him so entirely.

"_Fuuuck_, Bella," he groaned as his forehead met hers and his breath swept across her face.

"Ah...yes, baby," she replied as she kissed his mouth and tilted her hips to accommodate him. She held onto his broad shoulders and let her finger tips press into his flesh.

"Never," Cullen mumbled when his cock was fully sheathed. "Never make me wait this long again." He devoured her mouth in desperation. "I need to be inside you more...so, so much more."

He pulled out slowly, watching enraptured as his dick emerged; slick and shiny, before pushing back in again. Their synchronised moans filling the room.

Cullen's head lolled back, a loud breath hissing through his gritted teeth. "Jesus, Bella, your pussy is fucking perfect."

She laughed lightly and kissed his throat. "I love feeling you like this, seeing you like this." She nuzzled her nose into his chest as she stared up at him. "You're so beautiful."

"That's because I'm inside of _you_," he smirked as he shifted again, gripping her hips as he moved his own. The sloppy sounds of their union made his balls tighten further. "So wet for me, Peaches, _fuck_."

With her palms flat against the large expanse of his inked back, Bella held onto Cullen as he moved inside of her. His strokes were deep and firm but there was a tenderness to his touch, whispers of affection in her ear, and a desperation in his kisses.

Cullen went slower this time. He paced himself, pushing unhurried and sure instead of fast and frantic. Fucking would come later, but for now they both needed a simple connection; reassurance. She felt so damn good underneath him and the sounds that she made when he held her waist and pushed deeper, made his spine feel like jello.

"Fuck, that's it! Right there," Bella cried when he did it again.

Cullen simply grunted in agreement and ignored the deep ache in his rib. There was no way in hell that anything would stop him from being with his Peaches: no bruised rib, no cockblocking friends, nothing!

Cullen moved his hands from her waist and laid his forearms at the sides of Bella's head. With closed eyes, his mouth sought out hers and he breathed her in while she did the same.

"So good," he chanted as he pushed into her again; finding a rhythm. "So fucking good."

Bella's hands clutched his ass as she lifted to meet each one of his thrusts, making Cullen move faster.

"I need you closer," she muttered into his shoulder. "Oh God, I need you so much closer."

"Ah...Bella, I know," Cullen moaned in ecstasy and frustration. "I can't get close _enough_, sweetheart."

He licked her lips, lifted onto his palms, and, after another languid thrust, he held his cock deep inside of her, their hips flush, pushing gently, making her moan and writhe along him. The tip of his cock was touching places he had never touched Bella before, and his lungs were finding it really fucking difficult to do their job.

"Ah," she called out with her head thrown back, "Oh God!"

"Shit," he gasped as his chin touched his chest. "Do you feel that, Bella?"

"Mmm."

"That's me and you, baby."

He pulled back and did it again, and again, and again, until they were both gasping for air and desperate to cum. Maintaining the deep connection he had with his girl, Cullen tucked his arms around Bella's legs and balanced the back of her knees onto his biceps. He swivelled his hips faster, and with more force, and they both started to become louder in their pleasure.

"Edward..._fuck_, yes," Bella cried as her hands went to the headboard where she held on tight.

"Are you close?" he panted above her, willing his balls to stop tightening and his cock from exploding.

"Yes," she answered. "I...I need..."

With a slack jaw, Cullen watched as Bella pushed her right hand between their bodies and began rubbing her own clit. _Jesus fucking Christ the woman was fucking lethal._

"Fuck, Bella," he moaned with his eyes glued to the two fingers that were moving fast across her slick skin. "That's so fucking hot."

His hips and his cock suddenly took over the whole of Cullen's body, and he began to drive into her with more force. As their bodies crashed together, his mouth became attached to her nipple, her collar bone, her neck, her jaw and her mouth. When his tongue flicked at hers and he told her she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever fucking seen, Bella's pussy gripped his dick and her entire body buckled and throbbed around him. She screamed for him and ground against him as he pounded her.

"Edward," she groaned, "Cum, baby, cum inside me."

Cullen snarled as his cock began to twitch.

"I'm...gonna..._ah_...mother_fucker_!" He moaned loudly. "Right..._shit_...there." he looked down at her beautiful face. "Bella, kiss me, _please_!"

Bella pushed up onto her own forearms and gripped the undamaged side of his face as she kissed him with everything she had. She nipped, licked and fucked his face with her tongue and, as she did, Cullen felt his entire body go completely still before everything tilted and he came with a howl and a string of gasps and curses. His face screwed up as the exquisite pleasure of his orgasm lashed up his back like a white hot whip and his hips moved frantically without rhythm or goal.

"Holy..._fuck_...fuck, Bella," he grunted as he slumped onto her, relishing the feel of her sweat against him. "Dammit...fuck." His hips slowed to an eventual stop and all that could be heard were the heavy breaths that they were both taking.

Bella's hands stroked through Cullen's hair and down his neck, making the sleep that he had been fighting come over him in a way that he was incapable of denying it. He pulled from her with a shift of his hips, but remained on top of her, unable to move from the tight grasp she had on him.

"Sorry," he mumbled against her right breast, "You're...you're amazing. So tired."

"Sleep, Edward," Bella replied quietly as she kissed the top of his head.

He didn't need telling twice.

=PoF=

Cullen awoke with a head that felt like it had been crushed by a goddamn train and a bladder that was the size of Manhattan Island. He rolled to his left side with a groan when his hurt rib made itself known, only to find that the bed was empty. Lifting first onto his forearms and rubbing his face as carefully as he could, Cullen eventually stood from the bed, stretched, and hurried over to the en suite.

After he had taken the world's longest piss, he grimaced at himself in the mirror while he washed his hands.

Bella was right, he _did_ look like hell. Cullen knew that there was nothing broken and that it was all cosmetic, but, fuck the bastards had done a good fucking job. The swelling under his eye had subsided, but he had been left with bruises that were the colour of a fucking sadistic rainbow. The cut in his eyebrow had scabbed like the one on his mouth, but the wound on his temple looked red and angry.

"Fuckers," he muttered as he dried his hands and made his way back into the bedroom. He pulled on his jeans that he found half way across the room and crept out into Bella's apartment.

He could hear that the TV was playing SpongeBob Square Pants which made him smile, and the smell of sausage and toast, as he walked down the hallway, made Cullen's stomach growl. He turned the corner to find Bella skittering around the kitchen with a dish towel over her shoulder. He leaned against the edge of the refrigerator and watched her. She had obviously showered, and her hair was in a messy bun at her neck. She was wearing black sweats and a green vest top. Her skin looked fucking luscious and smooth, and his cock gave an appreciative twitch when his mind flashed back to being pressed up against her when she was sweating and hot.

"Hey," he said eventually after an age of ogling.

Bella jumped slightly before smiling at her silly reaction. "You scared me," she confessed as she wiped her hands on the towel.

"Sorry," Cullen replied with a chuckle. "But I woke up all alone and I decided that I'd come and find you to drag you back."

He smiled gently when he saw a slight blush appear in her cheeks. "What are you doin'?" he asked as he cocked his chin towards the food.

"Making you brunch," she answered. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and smiled. "It's late; I figured that you'd be hungry."

Cullen nodded. "Starved," he admitted.

"Good," she said, "Because I've made a lot."

"Great," Cullen replied as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

It always annoyed him how fumbled he became when he and Bella were together this way. It was so much different to when they were in the library or in bed. There was a nervous chemistry between them and he could see that Bella felt it too, when she glanced at his bruised face before looking away again.

"Hey, listen," he said as he cleared his throat. "Can I use your shower?"

"Sure," she answered with a quick nod. "Food will be done in ten."

"Great," Cullen repeated with an internal eye roll. "I'll be done in five."

"Okay," Bella answered as she turned towards the coffee pot. The back of her neck looked delicate and soft and her small shoulders just begged to have Cullen's mouth on them.

"Peaches," he whispered.

Bella turned instantly. Her eyes were wide but they were still tinged with the sadness that had appeared the night before. Cullen felt his stomach clench.

"Come here," he beckoned gently with his right hand towards her.

Bella smiled and walked towards him slowly before placing her hand firmly in his. Cullen pulled her to his chest, keeping his gaze on hers, and wrapped his arms around her waist as Bella's hands skimmed up his arms to rest on his bare shoulders.

"Good morning," he said before he bent down to place a tender kiss on her lips.

"Good morning," she replied as she let her nose rub his chin.

"Are you okay?" he asked cautiously while he stroked his palm down the centre of her back. "Are _we_ okay?"

Bella looked around his face and let her fingertips dance over the wounds on his face. She barely made contact, but Cullen could feel her deep inside of himself in places only Bella could touch.

"Yeah," she murmured as the edges of her mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile. "We're okay."

Cullen bent down again and kissed her, but this time he deepened it. He felt the hairs on his arms stand on end when Bella reciprocated with a soft moan. He was so fucking relieved that they were okay; that_ she_ was okay. When she had moved away from him the night before, his head had felt dizzy with fear. As much as Bella had made it clear that she didn't want to lose him, Cullen couldn't even begin to _think_ about losing her.

"Go for your shower," Bella smiled as he stared down at her before she turned from him.

"Okay," he answered quietly through a throat that wanted to say so much more.

"Oh, and here," she added. She walked back to him with a glass of water and two Tylenol that were placed in her palm.

He took them without a word and watched as Bella went back to her cooking. After swallowing the pills, he rubbed at his chest where an odd, warm sensation had appeared, and turned back towards the bedroom to take his shower.

=PoF=

"Fuck, Bella!"

"Oh, Cullen."

"Ah! Jesus Christ!"

"Nearly there..."

"Dammit, woman!"

"Oh please."

"It hurts!"

"Oh, for God's sake! You're a damn wuss." Isabella dipped her finger back into the lotion and moved back to put some more onto Cullen's face, but, before her fingers could touch him, he grabbed her wrist and glowered.

"It _really_ fucking hurts," he growled.

"And your face is a mess," she retorted with equal sass. "I _said_ it would sting." She pulled her wrist from his grasp and smirked. "It can't hurt _that_ much, Mr. Rough-Tough-Criminal." Isabella cocked an eyebrow and felt a surge of satisfaction when Cullen's mouth twitched with a smile.

"Just...just warn a motherfucker," he grumbled before tensing his shoulders ready for the pain.

"Okay," Isabella conceded with a nod. "I'm placing the ointment under your eye. Now."

Cullen hissed and scrunched his face as Isabella applied it gently. She couldn't help but smile at his reaction that was so out of character of the man before her: big, strong, feral Edward Cullen – almost in tears because of an antibacterial cream. It was laughable. He had nearly had a nervous breakdown when she had put a heated wet towel against his face prior to that. _Wuss._

It shouldn't, however, have been _that_ much of a surprise that there were facets of his character that she was still to see. She had been thrown for a curve when, after demolishing the brunch that she had made him, he had offered to wash up. He had argued when Isabella had pulled the 'you're the guest, I will wash up' card, and eventually settle on drying the dishes instead.

He was chatty - telling her animatedly about Kayla and how he had worked on her that week while they had been apart, and telling her about Rosalie, and how he really wanted the two women to meet which shocked the shit out of her - and playful: flicking the dish towel at her ass or flicking her with water at every opportunity.

His behaviour, although surprising, had done nothing but solidify her feelings for him. She couldn't deny it anymore. She _was_ in love with him. Maybe it was the talk with Leah, or the feeling of completion when she had woken in his strong arms after he had made love to her without even realising. Or maybe it was because the thought of not having him at all was more than she could bear.

As she rubbed the cream into his red skin, she looked at the cut on his face and immediately felt her stomach drop again, deep into the soles of her feet. Seeing Cullen so beaten and hurt had almost made her fall to the floor in fear. The scenario: a gang on a dark street, someone she loved being beaten... It was so similar, and it had been too much for her.

The thought of losing _Cullen_ was too much for her.

Quickly, and without warning, Isabella leaned forward and kissed Cullen firmly on the lips. She closed her eyes and revelled in the feel of his stubble against her chin and cheek, and his minty/sausage/smoky breath as it seeped into her when the kiss deepened slightly. She smiled when she felt his hands on her waist trying to pull her closer.

_Have me. Have all of me._

He was there, and he was okay. She had never been more relieved – or madder at him for putting himself in that situation. Like a parent with a small child, however, the relief that he was safe outweighed the anger, and all she could do was attach herself to him and hope to God that he never let her go.

She sat back gradually to see his eyes flutter back open.

"What was that for?" he asked quietly as his thumb grazed the skin of her stomach by the waistband of her sweats.

"Just because," she replied with a small shrug.

Cullen smiled and tipped his head back to signal his understanding. He looked smug as shit and hot as hell.

"Well, feel free to do that shit more often." He trailed his index finger leisurely across her bottom lip. "I like your lips, but I love it more when I get to taste them."

"I'll take that under advisement," she answered nonchalantly, but was secretly thrilled that he wanted kisses as much as she did.

"Okay, take your shirt off," she ordered with a finger pointing at his chest.

Cullen smirked and raised his eyebrows. "You want me naked now, baby? Make up for your nasty sadistic shit."

Isabella narrowed her eyes playfully at him. "No," she replied. "I want to put some ointment on your side. It'll seep into your muscle and ease the pain a little."

"Fuck," he muttered as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Will it hurt?"

Isabella snorted and shook her head as she grabbed the heat spray from off of the coffee table. "God, you are such a girl!"

Cullen's eyes widened at her words. He looked genuinely incensed. "Wh-what the hell, Peaches?" he asked incredulously, "A girl? Shit, you know for damn certain that I'm _all_ fucking man!"

This made Isabella laugh loudly and blush profusely. Damn straight he was all man. _Fuck._

Cullen pulled off his t-shirt and lay down on the sofa as Isabella directed him. He pushed his right hand under his head, showing off the curves of his tattooed bicep and the dark course hair under his arm. He watched intently as Isabella sprayed his side and shifted uncomfortably when she rubbed it into his skin.

"You okay?" she asked when his gaze started to burn into her.

"Yeah," he answered lazily. He watched her further before adding: "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

Cullen took a deep breath, making his chest rise against Isabella's palm. His skin was smooth and she noticed a wave of goose bumps travel across his stomach.

"I was thinking," he murmured softly. "About what an asshole I was for not sending that kiss back to you."

This made Isabella pause and screw her eyebrows in bewilderment. "Kiss?" she asked with a light chuckle.

"Yeah," he replied with a nod.

Isabella's hand froze on his body when she felt his fingers under her chin. When she looked up at him his eyes were sincere, and the greenest she had ever seen. _Emerald_, she thought, _deep, precious emerald_.

"I didn't put a kiss at the end of my text yesterday," he whispered as his hand tucked her hair behind her neck. "I should have, and I'm sorry."

Isabella's heart stammered and spluttered in her chest and her whole body immediately went hot. Every inch of her skin burned for him, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Even her blood felt hot.

"It's alright," she mumbled as she looked down. His hand stopped her again.

"No," he countered with a slow shake of his head. "No, it's not, Bella. You deserved that kiss."

Isabella smirked despite herself. "Is that right?"

Cullen smiled back, seemingly understanding her playfulness, and removed his left hand from her face. He pushed it under his head to join his right. He looked so fucking sexy, leaning back, long and lithe, arrogant and wanting her. And he _did_ want her. Isabella could see it in his eyes.

"Yeah," he answered as his eyes burned trails of lust down her body. "That's right. Do you want it now?"

Isabella smiled and put the spray back on the table between their used coffee cups. "That depends," she replied coyly.

Cullen's eyes widened. He was loving it, "On what?"

"On what kind of a kiss I get."

Cullen pursed his lips in mock consideration. "I see."

Isabella watched him carefully as rubbed his chin and then his chest. His chest, by the way, was fucking spectacular. He was muscular, of course, but it didn't scream body beautiful, it screamed strength and protection. He had a splattering of hair in the centre of it that sat like an exclamation point next to his masculinity. Isabella meant it every time that she said it – he was beautiful.

"So, what kind of kisses do you like?" he asked as he folded his arms tightly behind his head, "Because, hell, I don't want to give you the wrong one now." He frowned in concern as is voice dropped, low and sensual. "That just wouldn't do for my Peaches."

Isabella's heart raced at his use of the word 'my'. _You're such a fucking girl, Swan._

"Um…" she paused and twirled a piece of hair around her index finger as she surveyed the ceiling in contemplation. "I like soft kisses-…"

"Show me," Cullen interrupted with a firm tone. "I'm a visual learner, Miss Swan," he teased. "Help a student out here."

Isabella laughed lightly and raised her eyebrows. "How silly of me," she said with a dramatic shake of her head.

She kneeled up straight and let her stare travel slowly down Cullen's body. He shifted under her gaze. Isabella was sure as shit that he had a boner that was pushing at the button fly of his jeans. She licked her lips at the thought of his bare cock in her mouth and heard him moan.

"I'll make you a deal," she said as she dragged her eyes from his crotch to his gorgeous face. He looked deep in thought, but raised his chin to show that he had heard her.

"I'll show you on one condition."

"Hit me."

"That you keep your arms where they are. No touching."

Cullen's face looked momentarily confused, then slightly angry, and then lustful. That was Isabella's favourite. That look, and the one that he got when he came. Fuck, he was magnificent when that happened. His face would twist into expressions that bordered on painful, but his hold on her and his sounds would tell her a different story.

Isabella felt her pussy start to awaken in fantastic fashion. "Deal?" she asked casually.

Cullen cocked a seductive eyebrow. "Deal," he murmured. "Now hurry the fuck up and show me those kisses, baby."

_Yes, sir._

Isabella stood up and placed hr hand on the back of the couch. Carefully, as not to hurt his ribs, she pushed her knee down the side of him and sat down so that she was straddling his waist. She moved to get comfortable. _Yep, definite hard-on. _Jesus, he felt so good, even with clothes on.

Cullen's face looked utterly devastated. "Bella, you can't sit there and expect me not to-…"

"Ah, ah, ah," she chided with two fingers pressed to his pouting lips. "You said deal. No touching."

He huffed and grimaced, but, to his credit, he didn't move, "Fucking fine. But don't…don't shift your ass too much."

Isabella smiled down at him, convinced that she felt his cock move beneath her. "Okay."

This seemed to appease him and he took a deep breath.

"You ready?" she asked to which he smiled and nodded.

"For you, Peaches? I'm always ready."

Isabella held back the snort that threatened when he lifted his hips to show her what he meant.

"First kiss…I like soft kisses." She leaned down slowly, making sure that he was still comfortable and placed a gentle kiss against his lips. She pressed lightly into him and felt warm when he melted back. It was certainly a chore to pull away, but she managed it.

"Nice," Cullen said with dark eyes. "Next."

"I like slow kisses."

Isabella's lips met his again, but this time she took his bottom one into her mouth and leisurely sucked it into her mouth. The growl that came from him shot straight to her clit. She felt him move, but when she opened her eyes he was still in the same position.

"More," he told her.

"Wet kisses."

Their tongues met this time, firm and almost frantic. His mouth covered her just like it had done when he had pushed into her the night before. Isabella cupped her face and let her mouth show him what she felt.

_You taste incredible. I love the way you make me feel. I love the feel of your body. I love you._

She pulled away and immediately felt his breath hard and hot over her face. "I fucking love those ones," he groaned, "Any others?"

Isabella laughed and tucked her hair behind her ears. "I think that last one covered them all."

"Really?" he asked as he tilted his head adorably to the side. "You missed my all time favourite."

Isabella frowned. "I did?"

"Yeah."

Without warning, Cullen sat up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to her chest.

"You cheated," she whispered as he lay open mouthed kisses up her neck and to her ear lobe.

"I'm a criminal, Bella. You should know not to listen to me by now."

Isabella smiled into his hair and moaned when she felt his teeth graze her jaw.

"Besides," he said with a smile. "I want to show you _my_ favourite kiss."

His mouth met hers: gentle and sexy. "Will you let me show you?"

"Yes," she panted as she licked her lips, "Anything."

Cullen smiled up at her and rubbed his nose against her cheek. "Lay back, sweetheart."

Isabella paused.

"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly, even though he knew the answer.

"Yes."

"Then lie back."

Isabella shuffled back so that her ass touched the couch and watched - mouth open - as Cullen began to undo the fly of her jeans. With his eyes set firmly on hers, he pulled her jeans down her legs, skimming the skin of her thighs and calves with the back of his fingers, and placed them gently on the floor.

"Are you wet?" he asked in one long breath as his hands travelled lovingly back up her legs. His palms gently rested on her hips as he kneeled between them.

"I'm always wet for you," she replied as her own hand brushed her right breast. "I always want you. I always need you."

Cullen moaned and let his index finger travel down the centre of her panties. "Do you have any idea how fucking crazy you make me?"

Isabella moaned and arched under his tender touch. _More. I need more._

"You're fucking beautiful like this," he murmured before he tucked his fingers into the sides of her panties and pulled them down in the same way that he had done with her jeans.

"I'm going to kiss you, Bella," he said as he leaned over her, allowing his mouth to touch hers briefly. "I'm going to kiss you here." With those words spoken, he pushed his index finger against her clit and rubbed a smooth, slow circle around it.

"Fuck," she purred.

"Would you like that?" he asked as he did it again. "Would you like my kisses on your pussy, Bella?"

"Oh God, yes. _Please_."

Cullen chuckled darkly and kissed the tip of her nose. "Good. But I need you to ask me, Peaches."

"Kiss me."

"Say the words, baby," he said as his finger moved faster between her bare pussy lips. "Say them and I'll make you feel so fucking good."

"Jesus, Cullen. Kiss my pussy. _Please_. Kiss my pussy."

Her breath was taken from her as his mouth crashed to hers, and her tongue was ravished by his in a way that made her eyes roll far back into her head. She was breathless when he pulled back and heard him mutter something about 'fuck-hot' and 'dirty mouth'.

Isabella squirmed and gasped as Cullen then began to move his mouth down her body, purposefully missing out the parts that she knew _he_ knew she wanted him to touch. For fuck's sake her nipples were almost piercing the bra that she was wearing, but he never touched them. Instead he kept massaging her clit with his fucking amazing fingers and licked his way down the centre of her stomach.

She felt his cheek as it pressed into her left thigh, and then he took a deep breath.

"Peaches," he whispered. "I've wanted this for so long." The tip of his finger dipped gently into her. "I've wanted you to cum on my face for so fucking long."

"_Edward_."

"Will you?" he asked quietly, reverently as he pushed his finger in further, up to the knuckle. "Will you cum on my face?"

"Yes, yes, please. Stop teasing." She was aching for him and so wet.

"Okay, baby," he replied, and, with that, he let the tip of his tongue slide from her pussy, all the way up to her clit.

"Oh fuck!" Isabella called out.

"Fuck, yes," came Cullen's reply as he removed his finger and gripped her thighs to bring them tight around his head.

Isabella was incoherent as Cullen's tongue swept across her clit, down to her pussy and then back again. He was gentle, oh fuck, he was so gentle, and he hummed against her wet flesh like a vibrator: A six-two, bronze haired, tattooed vibrator.

"So good," she groaned as he licked her.

His eyes looked up at her every so often, his precious emeralds burning into her skin while he flicked at her and sent her insane. His cock was magic, but his tongue was fucking poetic, writing incredible words against her most sensitive, intimate parts. Isabella writhed wantonly against his face until he sucked her clit into his mouth and sucked, and sucked.

"FUCK!" she cried as she bucked up hard; arching and searching for something to hold onto. She found his hair. She tangled her fingers into it, making him grunt and push his face further into her.

And then his delicious fingers were back, teasing her sopping pussy, dipping in and out and moving down, towards places that Isabella had never been touched before. It felt new, and naughty, and so _fucking _right.

"Taste so fucking good, Bella," Cullen mumbled as he began to move his face from side to side, licking every inch of her. "More. Give me more, baby."

Without taking his mouth from her hot flesh, he pushed her thighs back further so that her calves rested on his shoulders and her knees almost touched her chest. The position made every sensitive part of Isabella freely available to him and he began fucking her with his tongue and fingers so that she was screaming.

"Fuck, Edward, don't stop! Don't stop! I'm going to cum!"

He pushed three fingers into her and started to slam them in and out. They moved smoothly with her wetness and when he curled them and hit her in the most exquisite of places, Isabella's voice cracked with her cries of pleasure. She pulled at his hair, half wanting more and half pulling him away as the pleasure started to become too much. Her spine was poker straight and her t-shirt was damp from the sweat off of her chest, but Cullen was relentless.

His tongue seemed to gain speed along with his fingers while he groaned into her, begging and pleading for her orgasm as she fucked his face. And Isabella _knew_ she was fucking his face. She couldn't stop. His touch lifted her higher and higher and her hips gyrated and ground hard. If she hurt him, he never said. He simply moved or licked faster.

"I'm…I'm….Oh God…coming!"

All Isabella heard were a series of encouraging growls and grunts from between her legs before a searing white hot blast of euphoria, on a scale of which she had never experienced, shot up her back, and she came harder than she ever imagined she could.

Waves of heat and pulses of pleasure spread from her clit and pussy, to her stomach, her chest, to her heart and her neck, and the whole lot erupted from her mouth in a torrent of curses, screams and cries that sounded animalistic. She _felt_ animalistic. She felt alive and on fire and, for one brief second of a moment, she was sure that she knew exactly what heaven looked like.

She had no idea how she got there, but as her eyes opened she was suddenly aware that she was lying across Cullen's hot, heavy breathing chest. One hand was stroking her hair while the other made lazy circles across her naked thigh. He was humming. As Isabella's thoughts began to collect their sorry asses from off of the floor and reconvene back into her brain, she realised that he was humming the same Sinatra tune that he had sung to her in Central Park.

"Am I alive?" she asked with a croaky voice.

Cullen's laughter filled her ears and she could do nothing but wrap her arms tighter around his neck.

"Yes, Bella, you're alive, and stroking my ego quite nicely, thank you." He kissed her forehead and sighed. "Are you okay?"

Isabella wiggled her toes and stretched her back. She felt spongy and so relaxed she could barely blink. "I'm…I'm fucking awesome," she replied.

Cullen laughed again and pulled her closer. "That was without doubt the hottest and _sexiest_ thing that I have ever seen. Or done."

"I agree," Isabella replied with a stifled yawn. "Thank you. That was…" She managed to raise herself up onto her elbow and kiss his lips. The taste and smell of her was all over him, and Isabella moaned when his tongue touched hers. It was sensual and erotic to taste what he had. They tasted so good together.

Cullen moved his hips against her, and she at once felt bad for not seeing to his needs.

She moved her palm down his chest, but he stopped her with his hand around her wrist before she got passed his belly button.

"Don't," he said softly. "That shit was for you. Fuck, it was for me too, but I don't need you to do that."

"I want to," she answered as she kissed him again.

"And that's fuck hot, Bella," he replied with a long exhale. "But it's okay." He cupped her face and smiled. "It's enough to have you right here."

He shuffled down the couch, pulling the wool blanket from off the back of it as he did, and wrapped it around the both of them.

"It was amazing," Bella murmured as her eyes closed. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure, baby," Cullen whispered. "Thank you for letting me."

But Isabella was already asleep.

=PoF=

There was a ringing. A shrill ringing and it wasn't stopping.

Isabella lifted her head from under Cullen's very warm chin to see him starting to stir.

"Is that your phone?" she asked as she wiped her damp hair back from her face.

"Fuck," he grumbled as he patted his pockets in a sleepy stupor.

From the way the November sun was casting shadows across Isabella's living room, she could guess that it was now late afternoon. She stopped Cullen, who was still searching for his phone.

"It's the intercom."

With a heavy head and wobbly legs, Isabella crawled over Cullen and hurried as best as she could with no panties on, to the intercom. She pulled her t-shirt down awkwardly to cover her modesty when she saw Cullen wiggling his eyebrows at her appreciatively. She rolled her eyes and flipped him of. He was still laughing hwen she picked up the receiver.

"Hello."

"Good afternoon, Miss Swan. It's Fred on the desk." 

_Well, obviously._

Isabella rubbed her face, trying to get rid of all the sleep, "Hey Fred."

"I have a guest here who is asking if he can come up to see you."

Isabella frowned and glanced back at Cullen, "He?"

Cullen's playful expression vanished almost instantly, and he stood slowly from the couch.

"Yes, Miss Swan. He says it's urgent."

Isabella suddenly felt extremely nervous. "Um…who is it, Fred? Did he give a name?"

"Oh yes, apologies."

There was a mumbled conversation at the end of the line before Fred's chipper voice came back.

"Miss Swan?"

"Yes, Fred?"

"He said his name is Peter Whitlock."

**Holy fricken shiz, Batman!**

**What the hell will Isabella do? DUN DUN DUUUUU**

**Hey, don't hate me, I just gave you 15,000 words and two lemons, thank you. **

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**Best Make Out, Best Worth the Wait Lemon, Best Go to Re-read Lemon for Chapter 26 and ****Best Dirty Talk.**

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	32. Chapter 32

**Hola, beautiful people!**

**Thank you once again for all the reviews. I am still so stunned at the reaction to this fic.**

**I spend my time writing these long ass chapters and don't get enough time to answer many, but please know that I read every single one and that they inspire me. Thank you.**

**Huge love to all the girls on Twitter – I'd be here until Christmas if I named all of the amazing people I've met on there, but I love every one of you.**

**To the girls on the thread – you rock my Batman socks, and continually make me want to raise my game. Thank you.**

**To my Cherubs…mwah…you'll always have my heart.**

**So, a nasty cliffie last chapter with Peter 'I suck ass' Whitlock making an appearance! WTF will Cullen do?**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 31: Embracing the Fear**

"_Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defences, you build up a whole suit of armour, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore._ _Love takes hostages. It gets inside you." ~ __**Neil Gaiman**_

Isabella felt all the blood in her face rush down her body, and her stomach rolled with unrelenting waves of nausea as Fred's words echoed around her head.

_Peter Whitlock_.

_Fuck_.

Peter Whitlock was in the building wanting to be invited up to the fucking apartment: the apartment in which she was currently standing half-naked, with an equally undressed Edward Cullen, cousin of aforementioned, student, and parolee.

_Fuck._

Her wide eyes and ghostly pale complexion must have signalled to Cullen that there was something seriously wrong as he immediately strode towards her: gloriously bare-chested and still covered with sleep. He frowned down at her in concern as Isabella opened her mouth, willing words to come.

They didn't.

He touched her elbow gently, "Bella?"

This moment, Isabella knew, had been inevitable for a long time. Ever since she had decided that she wanted to be with Cullen, and even more so now that she was in love with him, she knew that Peter needed to be dealt with.

He may have been a nasty piece of shit to Cullen when they were children, and even more so now that they were grown, but she had to set him straight. It wasn't fair on any of them. Peter was clearly enamoured with her but all she felt towards him now was anger and indifference. She needed to tell him to back off; leave her alone, but she had to do it in a way that wouldn't indicate her heart belonged solely to Cullen.

That would not be a good idea. _At. All._

As much as she would have liked to have had the chance to sever off Peter's smarmy, cowardly, bullying scrotum with a blunt razor, she had to behave in the right way and approach the situation dispassionately. It was the only solution to the clusterfuck of circumstances. As Cullen had suggested previously, Peter could use her to get what he wanted: Cullen's money and Isabella knew that she would never be able to live with herself if such a thing happened.

_No._ As much as this was going to cause a serious problem, and no doubt an epic war of words with Cullen, she _had _to speak to Peter face to face. She couldn't let the bastard win by manipulating another situation for his own gains. She had to protect the man that she loved. He was all that mattered.

As Cullen stared down at her with deep green, anxious eyes, and Fred wittered words she couldn't decipher at the other end of the receiver, Isabella made a decision. Her heart hurt with the weight of the promise that she was just about to break, but, she knew that, in the long term, it was the right thing to do.

"Thank you, Fred," she said suddenly; quietly, as she kept her gaze on Cullen's. "Tell Mr. Whitlock to wait for me at Theo's Coffee House. Can you give him the directions and tell him that I'll be there in fifteen?"

"Of course, Miss Swan."

"Thank you."

Keeping the phone to her ear for a beat, using the disconnected tone to calm her racing heart, Isabella replaced the receiver slowly and stood, looking at Cullen, with her hands clasped at her front, hopelessly aware that she was still naked from the waist down.

Cullen was dangerously quiet. To anyone who didn't know him, there was nothing to suggest that he was feeling anything but calm. But Isabella knew him well, and the tightness of his jaw, the flaring of his nostrils, and the darkness of his eyes told her all that she needed to know: he was livid.

They remained silent for an age, staring at each other, neither of them seemingly wanting to speak. The atmosphere around them was charged, but it was uncomfortably different to how it normally was. There was no passion now, only rage, and, in Isabella's case, determination. She knew that this would be hard for Cullen to understand, but she had to have faith that he would. He had to know how much she cared for him and that she was doing this for him; for them both.

She took a slow step towards him and tried to hide the pain that lanced through her when Cullen took a large step back. She cleared her throat of all the emotion that was waiting to crash over her. She couldn't let it. She _wouldn't_ let it.

"Peter's downstairs," she said as clearly and as evenly as she could.

Cullen didn't even blink. "Why?"

Isabella shook her head. "I don't know," she answered honestly.

Cullen's jaw flexed. "You don't know?"

Isabella frowned, "No, of course not."

Cullen swallowed. Isabella watched as his Adam's apple bobbed in his neck and wished like hell that she could cover it with kisses. "What does he want?"

Isabella shrugged minutely. "I don't know-"

"Then why the fuck have you just agreed to go and talk to the motherfucker!" Cullen's voice rose with each word until it was echoing all around them while simultaneously sending a chill of dread up Isabella's spine.

Isabella licked her lips, took a deep breath, and looked Cullen dead in the eye. "I have to go and-"

"Fucking bullshit," Cullen interrupted as his fists clenched at his sides. He pointed with a seething finger towards the phone. "Call Fred back and tell him to tell the son of a bitch to go fuck himself."

"I can't do that," Isabella stated calmly.

"Yes, you can," Cullen countered. "Or, better yet, let me go down and see him."

There was no way that Peter could see Cullen's face in the state that it was in, let alone with Bella in her apartment on a Saturday afternoon. "I can't," she whispered, pleading with him to understand.

"Yes, you can and you fucking will, Bella. I'm telling you, you will."

Cullen had taken a step towards Isabella and, with their chests mere inches apart, he glared down at her with such fiery rage that she was amazed her skin hadn't burst into flames. He was magnificent in his anger, but he was also wrong. She _had_ to do this.

Isabella let her eyes roam all over Cullen's face, searching in vain for the calm, tender and gentle man that had carried her to bed, made love to her, and held her all night, but the wrath was too thick around him: stubborn and impenetrable.

"You can't tell me what to do, Cullen," she replied eventually.

She kept her voice soft and made to walk past him towards her jeans and panties that were still strewn by the sofa. Cullen's hand on her wrist stopped her in her tracks. His grip was firm and tight and, for one brief moment, as she stared at Cullen's face with its cuts and bruises, Isabella felt a twinge of fear deep in the pit of her stomach.

"What the _fuck _do you owe him, huh? Why the fuck are you doing this?" His eyes were wide and his teeth were clenched so tight that they could have shattered glass.

"I don't owe him anything," Isabella shot back, feeling her temper rise. "I'm not doing this for him."

_I'm doing this for you because I love you, and it scares me to death to think that Peter could take you away from me._

"Oh," Cullen snorted in derision as he dropped her wrist and slapped his palms to his thighs. "I suppose you're doing this for you. Ease that guilty conscience of yours."

He stormed away from her, striding towards his t-shirt that lay next to Isabella's panties, growling and cursing under his breath.

"What guilty conscience?" Isabella asked in confusion with her palms facing the ceiling. She had no idea what the hell he was talking about.

"Well," Cullen snarled in a tone that Isabella had never heard him use before. "He made it clear what a fucking cock tease you were, it's only fair that you apologise and make it up to him, right?"

Isabella's stomach rolled again and her heart clenched in her chest. "What?" she asked in a quiet voice that belied the absolute frenzy of emotion that was sweeping through her.

"You heard me," Cullen shot back without turning to her as he pulled his t-shirt roughly over his head, covering the large bruise on his side.

"Is that what you think?" Isabella asked incredulously. "You think that I want to apologise and…what…_fuck_ him?"

Cullen sparked a cigarette and turned to her in a cloud of smoke that was barrelling down his nose. He looked like a vicious, furious dragon, ready to kill a motherfucker.

"Well, why the fuck else would you want to speak to that piece of shit when I have specifically asked you not to? It can't be to swap fucking recipes."

Isabella felt her patience snap as her hurt and anger peaked. "Yeah," she snarled sarcastically, "Of course. You see right through me, don't you? I just fuck everything with a pulse these days."

She hurried to her jeans and underwear and pulled them on as quickly as she could, willing the tears that were stinging her eyes to stay where they were. She didn't even jump when she heard him kick the side of the table in anger.

How could he _say_ that to her? Is that what he believed? Is that how he saw her: an easy fuck?

"You know how much I hate him, Bella," he spat. "I fucking told you what he did to me when we were kids; what he's still doing now, and yet, here you are, running off as soon as the fucker clicks his damn fingers."

He laughed darkly and sucked on his smoke. "Asshole must have some fucking skills to get you moving so fucking fast."

Isabella stood quickly, pulled back her hand, and slapped the side of his face as hard as she could, not caring as to whether she hit his bruises, or not. She just wanted him to hurt as much as his words had hurt her; wounded her. Christ, she could barely breathe.

"You _fucking_ asshole," she fumed as a large tear dropped down her right cheek. "How fucking dare you."

Cullen's face was stoic as he turned his head back to her, his eyes momentarily flashing with hurt.

"How dare me?" he repeated in disbelief. "Jesus Christ, you're the one going to him, Bella. You're the one who's going to allow him to piss poison into your ear about me, for him to offer you fuck knows what; to listen to his bullshit and allow him time that you should be spending here...with me."

This time Cullen's voice dropped as he reached the end of his sentence. His shoulders sagged slightly and his jaw loosened infinitesimally.

"You think that I'll believe _anything_ that he has to say, or take him up on whatever he has to offer?" Isabella asked through tight lips. "After everything that..." She gestured meekly at the space between them, devastated.

How could he not see what his words were doing to her?

"It doesn't fucking matter, Bella," Cullen replied as his face once again became hard and hating. "I know him."

Isabella smirked sardonically before blinking back more tears. "What a shame you don't know _me_."

She turned and grabbed her jacket and bag that were hanging from the back of the leather chair. She grappled for her keys and her wallet as she walked to the apartment door. Cullen's voice stopped her before her hand touched the handle.

"You go, Bella," he warned. "And I won't be here when you get back."

Isabella's chin dropped to her chest and she swallowed down the sobs of panic that threatened to overwhelm her at the hidden message in his words.

She turned back and nodded. "That's your decision, Cullen," she whispered, "And your loss."

She opened the door and walked out into the hallway, thankful that the sound of it slamming behind her covered the undeniable sound of her heart breaking.

=PoF=

Peter was seated by the window in Theo's Coffee Shop. Isabella saw him before he saw her and, for that, she was thankful. She had cried tears of hurt and incredulity for the majority of the two blocks that she had walked and was grateful that she was able to make sure her face wasn't blotchy, in the coffee shop bathroom, before she approached him.

He smiled and stood when their eyes met. "Isabella."

Isabella immediately felt her back shiver with discomfort at the sound of her full name on his lips. It sounded heavy and useless. It was so different to the lightness of Bella or _Peaches_.

She forced a smile. "Hi, Peter."

She was taken aback when he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. The surprise was quickly replaced by anxiety when she considered the chance that she smelled like Cullen. Peter didn't seem to notice and she allowed herself to take a calming breath.

"It's good to see you," he complimented with another smile. "Can I get you a coffee?"

Isabella shook her head and sat down in the chair that he was offering. "No, I'm fine."

Peter sat as she did and adjusted the cup that was sitting on the table in front of him. "You look great," he offered as he gestured politely towards her.

Isabella scoffed inwardly. She was so far removed from great it was almost laughable. "Thanks," she replied as she tucked her hair behind her ears.

Peter cleared his throat and crossed his ankles under his chair. "I'm sorry to turn up unannounced on a Saturday. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

Isabella stared at him, her paranoia already getting the better of her.

She needed to calm the fuck down. Easier said than done given the circumstances.

Cullen. _Edward._

How could he have thought that about her? She wanted to scream and shout and hit and punch at the words that he had spewed at her. She wanted to cry and laugh and hug and kiss him until ever inch of the pain she felt disappeared.

She was a mess on the inside, and she prayed like never before that he would be able to keep her shit together. She needed to keep her shit together. Whether Cullen detested her or not, she was doing this for him. For both of them.

She wondered if he had left her apartment yet and rubbed her stomach as it twisted into a tight knot.

"I have to admit that I'm surprised you came by," she said finally as she folded her arms across her chest, wrapping herself up in the hopes that she wouldn't fall apart in front of him.

"Yeah," Peter nodded. "I was in the area and…" He looked down at the table. "I haven't heard from you for a while. I was worried. We've all been worried."

Isabella remained quiet. She knew who he was referring to when he said we: Alice, Jasper, her mother. Great, she thought, more guilt. _Just what I fucking need._ It didn't matter either way. She wouldn't allow herself to feel guilty for keeping her silence. She wasn't in the wrong.

She had no words of comfort for the man before her. The only words she had were the kind that couldn't be uttered in a coffee shop filled with people enjoying their Saturday afternoon java.

Instead she nodded solemnly and licked her lips.

"I know you've been busy, but I've thought about you," he added as he wound his finger around the edge of his cup. "I've thought about you a lot."

"Have you?" So _this_ was what was so urgent? She just about managed to hold her eye roll and her tongue from saying something stupid, albeit honest.

"Yeah," Peter answered quickly. He laughed nervously which in turn made Isabella shift nervously in her seat. "I know that you and I…well, we never made anything official. We were never exclusive-"

"I know."

"But I always hoped that we could be." He paused before he laughed again and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm shit at this kinda stuff," he admitted. "Rusty, you know?"

Isabella gave a small smile despite herself, but rubbed her face quickly when the image of Cullen's face and his vitriolic words flashed and pounded behind her eyelids, and around her brain.

"Peter," she sighed.

"Uh oh," he uttered to jest. "That doesn't sound good."

Isabella sat forward, still holding onto herself, but managed to keep her voice even and firm. "I had a good time, but…there are many reasons why I can't be in a relationship with you."

_The main one being that you're a bullying manipulative bastard._

Peter dipped his chin before rubbing the pad of his thumb over it in contemplation. When his eyes met Isabella's, she shivered. They were accusatory, fierce, and fuelled by something that was dark and angry. She was instantly reminded of the look on Cullen's face before she left her apartment.

"One reason wouldn't happen to be my cousin, would it?" he muttered.

Isabella held perfectly still for an eighth of a second before she narrowed her eyes at the man opposite her. "I'm sorry?"

Peter smiled, but it wasn't as warm or genuine as others that Isabella had seen before, and it terrified her and infuriated her in equal measure. She was pretty sure that, should he try any of his manipulative bullshit on _her_, his five dollar espresso would end up the fuck all over his two hundred dollar jacket.

"He seemed very…_taken_ with you, when I saw him last. Very…" He looked towards the ceiling for inspiration before saying: "Protective."

Isabella sat back in her seat. She could feel her cheeks burning with annoyance and felt her heart skip a beat at the thought of Cullen being protective of her. She dropped her arms from around herself and placed them heavily onto the table between them.

"Well," she offered resolutely. "I can't imagine why."

Peter smirked. There was condescension written all over it. "Really?" he asked. "You can't?"

Isabella's stare never wavered from his as she shook her head.

"No," she replied. "I'm his tutor. Nothing more."

The words felt awkward and tasteless in her mouth, but she didn't let on. If this was some kind of test, Isabella was determined to pass the fucker with extra credit.

Peter sat back, seemingly noticing the defensive anger that was emanating from Isabella in heated pulses. "I'd put my next pay check on the fact that _he_ wants more."

"Quite frankly, Peter, I don't give a damn what you'd put down," Isabella growled.

Peter's eyes blinked three times in quick succession. He looked instantly surprised and slightly remorseful. "I'm sorry," he muttered, looking at her askance. "Have I missed something?"

"That is your cousin that you are talking about," she said flatly. "And your boss for all intents and purposes. Don't you think you should show a little more respect?"

Isabella watched as understanding washed over Peter's face in a pale wave. He tented his fingers over his coffee cup, in an adopted pose that he used in the board room to intimidate uncooperative clients.

"Ah," he breathed. "He told you."

"Yes," Isabella countered with a cocked eyebrow. "He did."

"Interesting topic of conversation for a student to have with his teacher," Peter mused.

Isabella didn't miss the biting tone that accompanied it, but she'd be damned if he was going to make her flounder.

"Not really," she replied. "Not when my student turns up to my session ready to rip everybody's head off because his cousin has upset him." She paused and pointed at herself, "Including mine."

Peter's eyes widened. "Did he hurt you?"

Isabella couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped her. "Of course not," she answered.

_I gave him a blow job to calm him down._

"He would never hurt me."

Ironically those very words sliced through her chest, pinching at her heart and lungs.

_He had hurt her so much. He doubted her and threatened to leave. _

"He's a criminal, Isabella," Peter said fiercely. "Never take that for granted. You have no idea what he is capable of. You need to be more careful around him; more vigilant. I know that your friends and your family worry terribly._ I_ worry."

Isabella couldn't help the eye roll that came when she heard his words of apparent warning. Was he serious with this shit?

"Well, I'm not worried. None of you give him enough credit," she said scornfully. "Maybe if you and _your_ family treated him like a human being, you'd get more cooperation."

Peter smiled as though he knew a huge secret. He shook his head and blew a breath of air between his pursed lips. "Damn, he really has you fooled, doesn't he?"

"I'm no ones fool, Peter," she snapped quickly making sure that he heard the double meaning in her statement.

"I know that, Isabella," he replied with a dip of his head. His eyes lost a little of their smarm and he took a long deep breath, taken aback but not surprised by her tone. "And I'm sorry if I've upset you."

"You haven't."

As her retort hung heavily around them, it was clear that it was a complete lie. But Isabella was almost to the point of not caring. She would take Peter's accusations and snarky remarks because they were nothing compared to the feeling of utter desolation that crept up her body at the thought of Cullen hating her for being where she was.

How could he think that she would simply discard everything that they had found in one another, and throw herself into Peter's arms? Cullen had looked at her with such disdain that it made her feel weak. He hated her. He hated so much that, potentially, she'd never see him again. _No._ She swallowed the bile that rose from her stomach as she considered that. She couldn't _not_ see him. She couldn't live like that. She couldn't lose him again after she had just found him again.

Goddamnit, it hurt. Her heart felt like it was in a vice while some sadistic bastard tightened it over and over. She needed to get home; clear her head, and think carefully about what her next move should be.

"Look, Peter," she offered quietly. "It's been a hell of a couple of weeks. It's obvious that you are aware of the situation with Alice and my mother, seeing as you kept the secret from me too."

Peter nodded but remained silent, clearly uncomfortable with her calling him out on his omitting his relationship to Cullen.

"With work and everything else on top, Peter…I'm just…I'm tired." Isabella was suddenly struck by the truth of those words. She _was_ tired, physically and emotionally. Her body ached, and her mind and heart felt battered and bruised.

"I can't offer you what you want," she continued with certainty. "It's only fair that I be honest with you." She looked up at him and cocked her head to the left. "And, incidentally," she added with a stern glare. "I'd have appreciated some honesty from _you_."

"I know," Peter conceded. "I should have told you about…everything, Isabella, and, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"You should be," she murmured, blatantly ignoring his apology. "At least Cullen had the balls to tell me straight."

"Yes, he always was very verbose," Peter commented dryly making Isabella's spine straighten protectively.

"Verbose or not," she bit out. "He was honest." Isabella gave Peter a piercing look. "Ironic isn't it how the most trustworthy person out of all my friends and family is a 'criminal'."

Peter pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows at Isabella's use of air quotes. "Interesting how you place him in the same category as your friends and family considering that you are simply student and teacher."

"Semantics," Isabella countered, refusing to rise to his bait. "And I don't appreciate you continually making these small remarks about my relationship with Cullen. Besides it being none of _anyone's_ business, statements like those could get me into a lot of trouble. I work hard at my job, and I don't like that you make it sound sleazy and cheap, as well as suggesting that my behaviour is anything other than professional."

Although her last statement was dangerously close to the actual truth, there was absolutely nothing sleazy and cheap about what Isabella felt for Cullen. There was nothing sleazy and cheap about the splinter in her heart that was aching for him, and there was nothing sleazy and cheap about her sitting and talking with a man that she disliked, and didn't trust, in order to protect the man that she loved.

"That wasn't my intention, Isabella," Peter replied quickly. He sighed and bit the inside of his mouth. "I'm sure you know that Edward and I never got along. We have a strained relationship at best and with this business with the contract and…well, I shouldn't let my jealous nature get the best of me. I'm sorry."

Isabella tried to allow his words in, but his dismissive attitude towards his treatment of Cullen made her fists clench. He had to know how affected Cullen was by the bullying that he had suffered when they were children. It had been devastatingly cruel and entirely unnecessary.

"I don't forgive easily," Isabella said curtly.

"I appreciate that, Isabella," Peter said honestly with a nod. "But, if you'd let me, I'd like to work at earning your forgiveness."

Isabella sighed and looked at her hands. Her mind screamed at him: _no, no, no! Leave me alone. I love Cullen. I love him, _but she couldn't speak the words that scrambled up her throat. She couldn't tell him to shove his apologies where the sun doesn't shine. But, _fuck_, she wanted to.

"I don't have an answer for that, Peter," she said gravely. "Jealous nature or not, your comments today don't inspire me to put much faith or trust in your apologies. How do I know that you won't lie again? How do I know that there isn't some other huge secret that you are keeping from me that I will eventually discover and once again look like a complete fucking idiot?"

"I wouldn't let that happen," Peter said fervently.

Isabella smiled dryly. "You already did, Peter. I still haven't forgiven my best friend who I have known for years." She shrugged. "What makes you think I'd forgive you?"

Peter seemed to slump in his seat at her words and rubbed his palm down the side of his face. "I get it, Isabella, I do. I know that I don't deserve your time, forgiveness, or understanding, but I need you to know that I was truthful with everything else I ever said or did with you."

Isabella exhaled down her nose and raised her eyebrows in understanding. They had had a good time, and, yes, there _had_ been a time where she would have liked more with him, but that felt like a million years ago, and so much had changed.

Sure enough, Peter Whitlock still looked like the charming, suave gentleman that she had originally met in a bar in Soho, but his words and intentions were now distorted by a huge cloud of greed and malice. He was a stranger to her. She didn't know him at all. Maybe she never did.

Peter sat forward and moved his hands across the table. Isabella was convinced that his intent was to touch her, and she felt every inch of her body tense, but he never did.

"I hope that, in the future, you and I can be friends, Isabella," he said softly.

Isabella shook her head minutely at his persistence. What the hell could she say to that? Fuck you, asshole, wouldn't have been such a good idea, no matter how true it was.

"We'll see," she murmured noncommittally as the urge to run far away from him swept through her body.

He smiled. "I can live with that."

=PoF=

Isabella stepped slowly back into her apartment twenty minutes later, trying like hell to get the hope that was swarming around her heart to back the fuck up. The silence as she closed the door behind her was deafening.

He wasn't there. He had gone.

Isabella's bag dropped to the floor along with the river of tears that she had managed to hold in after she had left Peter at the coffee shop and staggered home.

In a daze, Isabella shuffled towards the couch to see the SpongeBob Square Pants mug still resting on her coffee table, filled with the remnants of Cullen's smoked cigarettes. Their mugs, along with the antibacterial cream that she had put on his face, sat where they had been left from their morning discussion about whether Michael Keaton was a better Batman than Christian Bale, and the dish towel that he had used to flick her ass as they washed dishes was still strewn dismissively across the breakfast counter.

There were signs of his being there all over the damn place. The usually empty side of her bed that was now messy and still held the undeniable dent of Cullen's body. The smell of his cigarettes in the living room, and his body wash in the bathroom. All of it began to suffocate Isabella until her back hit the far wall of her bedroom, and she finally slid to the floor. She cried into her knees as she wrapped her arms around them, sobbing when she smelled him in the hair that fell around her face.

Why did he _not_ understand? Why could he not see that she _had_ to speak to Peter? She had to get him to back off; she had to protect those that she loved. And how could Cullen think so little of her? After all that they had talked about, shared, and gone through together, how could he think that she would want someone like Peter when she had him?

'Had' him.

She had '_had'_ Cullen, and now he was gone. She groaned as her lungs gave an unforgiving squeeze in her chest.

Finally, and with heaving shoulders, Isabella felt the cold wood of the floor against her cheek and curled into as small a ball as she could, wanting and needing nothing more than Cullen's strong arms to hold her, and his soft lips to kiss it all better.

=PoF=

It was dark when Isabella opened her eyes again. She was freezing cold and had a crick in her neck from where she had been lying. Not that she cared. For one brief, sublime moment as she re-entered consciousness, she was oblivious to the fuckery that was the last however many hours until, with the force of an apocalyptic tsunami, it all came rushing back over her.

She took a deep breath and felt her chest immediately wheeze at the intrusion. Sitting up slowly, she pushed her hair back, rubbed her damp face, looked around the almost black room, and eventually managed to get to her feet. She wobbled a little and leaned against the wall for support before she slunk into the bathroom and walked towards the tub. A hot bath would ease the physical aches, what the hell she was meant to do with the emotional ones however, was a fucking mystery.

Isabella had never experienced anything like it.

The fact that she was unable to function properly infuriated her beyond belief. She was a strong, independent woman and all she could do was cry. The hollowness was paradoxically overwhelming, and her thoughts, no matter how hard she tried, seemed set on being permanently attached to the Cullen train with a one way ticket to Masochist-Ville.

Cullen, it seemed, had single-handedly managed to rip the feminism page right out of Isabella's personal encyclopaedia. But, try as she might, she couldn't hate him for it.

Once the bath tub was full and topped with peach scented bubbles, Isabella stripped and stepped carefully into the scorching hot water. As soon as her body became acclimated to the heat, she dunked her head and face under the surface and let the silence engulf her. It was perfect for all of two minutes before the silence was interrupted by the dripping of the faucet and the heavy thudding of her shredded heart.

Cul-len, it whispered with each rhythmic beat. _Cul-len. Cul-len. Cul-len_.

She broke the surface of the water with a huge gasp and a loud cry of frustration, pain and anger that echoed off the tiled walls of the bathroom. Her fists came down hard into the water making it splash over the lip of the tub, all over the floor.

Why did he have to be so fucking stubborn and hard faced? For fuck's sake, he had to know that she cared for him; loved him! Was he that fucking blind? _Really?_

"This is good," she muttered to herself as she laid her face cloth over her eyes and sat back into the bubbles in an effort to calm herself. "Anger is good."

Anger was better than tears and emptiness, although Isabella knew that she was utterly naive to think that that shit would instantly disappear. She loved him too damn much for that to happen. The annoyance and aggression that was building within her, however, momentarily diluted the rawness of her other emotions and, for the rest of her bath, she allowed herself to relax into it.

Isabella was standing in the kitchen, pouring herself a large mug of camomile tea, when her cell phone started to ring. She narrowed her eyes at the damn thing as it lit up and vibrated noisily across the coffee table. Leaving the spoon and tea bag in the mug, Isabella walked over to her cell and picked it up. She didn't recognise the number which eased her mind and made her back tense simultaneously.

_What if it was bad news? Cullen wouldn't have done anything stupid, would he?_

Isabella swallowed hard and pressed accept. Gingerly, she put it to her ear. "Hello?"

There was music in the background: loud, angry music, but no voice responded.

"Hello?" Isabella repeated as she walked back to the kitchen. Still nothing.

"Hello?"

She placed a hand on her hip as the verbal silence continued and huffed. "Look, buddy, whoever you are, I have better things to do, so unless you're going to speak, I'm putting the phone down."

She heard a long breath at the other end of the receiver, almost as though someone had taken a drag from a cigarette. Whoever it was, was smoking.

Isabella's heart stuttered and her mouth went instantly dry. She only knew one person who smoked.

"Cullen?" she whispered, but no-one answered.

"Cullen," she repeated with as even a voice as she could manage. "Is that you?"

There was still no response, but, over the music, there came the sound of a woman's voice, light and smiling.

"Edward, it's ready. Come on, handsome."

Isabella felt her stomach twist and her knees shake so badly that she had to grip onto the side of the kitchen counter. _Edward?_ _Handsome?_ Who the hell called him _Edward?_ He hated his name, loathed it even. He didn't let anyone other than Garrett to use it. And Isabella only used it...when they were intimate...

Isabella's hand immediately went to her mouth to hold the sob of pain that threatened to rip through her.

_No._ He couldn't. Could he?

She pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed end call, before throwing it across the room so that it landed heavily on the couch.

"Son of a bitch," she fumed as she leaned her weight on her palms that were spread across the counter.

She took two deep breaths and closed her eyes, willing away the lewd images that flashed through her mind. Cullen with another woman, bringing her pleasure with his body, his mouth, his hands...Then _she_ would do the same for him. She would take him in her small hands, her plump, red mouth, her pussy...

Isabella ran across to the kitchen sink and heaved violently. Nothing came from her empty stomach, but tears streamed down her face.

He wouldn't do that to her, would he? Surely he knew what it would do to her if he betrayed her like that?

The shrill ringing of her cell phone brought her back from her inner torture and she was at once incensed. If the fucker thought that he could play these mind games he had another thing coming. Storming over to where her phone lay, Isabella didn't even look at the screen before she answered it with venom: "What the hell do you want, asshole!"

There was a gasp from the other end of the call and a soft clearing of a throat. "Isabella?"

Isabella blinked slowly as she felt her temper start to retreat instantly only to be replaced with embarrassment and guilt. "Nana Boo?"

Nana Boo laughed nervously, "Yes, sweetheart. Bad time?"

"Shit," Isabella muttered under her breath as she rubbed a hand down her face. "I'm...I'm so sorry, Nana. I thought...I thought you were someone else."

"Clearly," Nana laughed. "I'm sorry to call so late, but I have tried your house phone a number of times and I couldn't get through."

"Yeah," Isabella murmured. "I haven't really been taking many calls."

"I know," Nana replied wistfully. "Your mother is going frantic."

Isabella rolled her eyes, but couldn't deny the twinge of remorse that sparked in her chest. "I'll speak to her when I'm ready," she offered.

"I know you will, sweetheart."

"So," Isabella continued with as bright a voice as she could muster. "How are you?"

"I'm great," Nana replied before regaling Isabella with the latest gossip from the bridge club and the handsome new dish that was her new golfing partner. His name was apparently Roger and he was seventy-one.

"He's rough and ready," Nana explained with a playful laugh, "Which I like."

Isabella curled up onto her sofa with her camomile and let herself get swept away by the soft tones and gentle words of her grandmother. She loved how Nana Boo knew what to say to make her smile, and the enthusiasm that the old lady exuded started to chase away the darkness and sadness that had resided in Isabella the whole day. Isabella heard herself laugh and her smile was entirely genuine as her precious Nana detailed her distaste at the new lady who had joined her Salsa class.

"A floozy, darling, plain and simple," was her no holds barred description of the newly widowed Ms. Harper.

"So," Nana Boo smiled. "What's new with you? I've missed you."

Isabella sighed and plucked at the loose cotton thread at the bottom of her sweat pants. "I've missed you too, Nana," she confessed. "And I know that I still need to bring your car back."

Nana Boo blew air through her lips. "Don't worry about the car, sweetheart. I have Roger to ferry me around these days."

Isabella laughed and sipped the ends of her tea. "I'm...I'm alright. Busy."

Nana hummed at the end of the phone and sighed gently. "Isabella, I know that I am an old woman, but I know when my only granddaughter is not herself. You don't sound alright, sweetheart. In fact you sound terrible."

Isabella laughed without humour and wrapped her free arm around herself. "It's complicated," she murmured.

"What aspects of life aren't?" Nana said with a smile. "Darling, I know that I am far away, but I love you very much, and I want to help if I can. It upsets me to see you and your mother fight, but I understand your reasons for leaving the way that you did. She was...well, she wasn't fair to you."

"Thank you," Isabella said as her eyes filled with tears.

"She worries, Isabella. It's a mother's prerogative."

"I know," Isabella answered with an exasperated sigh. "But she worries_ too_ much. I'm an adult, Nana. I can make my own decisions. I can look after myself."

"I don't doubt that, my darling. You were always so strong. So like your father."

"And stubborn like my mother?" Isabella asked wryly.

Nana Boo laughed. "Without a doubt," she replied. She was silent for a beat before she said quietly: "I know that your job causes your mother great anxiety, but I am so very proud of you, Isabella. I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything. You have my absolute confidence, angel."

Isabella closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the sofa knowing that what her Nana had said was true. She was tired, hurt, confused, and she had no one else to turn to. Her grandmother was offering a much needed shoulder to cry on, and Isabella knew that she would be a fool to pass it up.

"Nana," she breathed after a long moment. "I...I'm..."Isabella clapped a warm palm to her forehead in an effort to ease the throbbing that persisted at the back of her eyes. "God, I wouldn't even know where to start."

A soft humming sound reverberated down the phone. "Start at the beginning, sweetheart," Nana Boo encouraged. "I have all the time in the world."

Isabella felt small tears fall silently down her cheeks, and held her breath for a beat. "I know, I just...It...It hurts, Nana."

Nana Boo gasped gently as Isabella sobbed, "Oh, my sweet girl. Don't cry. Where? Where does it hurt, Isabella?"

Isabella swallowed and sniffed lightly. "My head...my heart...my stomach...everywhere." She wrapped her arms around her knees and let her body fall gently onto the sofa. "I hurt...for _him_...everywhere," she confessed into the leather.

Nana Boo was silent for a minute as Isabella wiped at the unrelenting tears that were falling down her face, "Him?"

"Yes, Nana," Isabella answered feeling the weight on her chest lift with each word that escaped her. "Cullen...my student...the one my mother hates because he's a criminal. I_...love_ him." Isabella caught another sob in the palm of her hand. "He left…_God_…I love him so much, Nana."

=PoF=

Isabella glanced down at her watch and rolled her eyes.

_Three thirty in the damn morning_.

What the fuck was she doing?

She had lost her freakin' mind. That was the only explanation. That, and the fact that she had been on the phone to a very inspiring, very persuasive Nana Boo for the best part of four hours. They had talked, and talked, and talked until Isabella had allowed her grandmother to convince her to get off of her pathetic, sobbing ass and fight for what she wanted.

Once Isabella had begun to tell Nana Boo about Cullen and the relationship that they had built up, she couldn't stop. She told her about his parole, the library sessions, and the trip to Central Park, the kiss, to learning about him being her saviour, and, with every word she began to feel better. Although she scratched over the more intimate details regarding Peter and the business, Isabella explained the relationship between the two men and her uncomfortable position, right in the damn middle.

Isabella felt exorcised; divested when she had finished. It was one thing for Isabella to talk to Leah about Cullen - the playful girly chat with her best friend was fun and light-hearted - but talking to her grandmother made Isabella feel cleansed, less muddled, and, every time that she expressed her feelings for Cullen out loud, she felt her heart beat stronger in her chest.

Nana Boo was surprised to say the very least when she heard about the circumstances and the man who had stolen Isabella's heart, but, being an old romantic, and desperate to see some light in her granddaughter's life again, Nana Boo had promised to stand by Isabella's decision, and be there for her every step of the way - going so far as to invite them both to Chicago for Thanksgiving.

"I want to meet the man who saved my granddaughter's life," she had said firmly, tearfully.

Isabella wasn't sure that she and Cullen were at the 'meeting the family' stage quite yet, but she had offered to think about it. She couldn't begin to express how much her Nana's support and confidence meant to her. Words just didn't seem adequate enough.

"Just promise me that you'll try and talk to your mother, Isabella," she had said. "You don't need to tell her everything – just start to lay the foundations for the bridges you both need to build."

"I promise," Isabella had conceded. It was the least she could do for her precious Nana.

The elevator came to a stuttering stop and Isabella pulled open the steel door. She paused momentarily, glancing down the hallway to the door that she knew she had to knock on. She felt her previously strong heart suddenly give a nervous kick in her chest, but she was determined to see this shit through. She wasn't going to allow herself to continue wallowing at home, crying for a man who didn't know his ass from his elbow when it came to emotions and confessions of the heart. _No way._

She was Isabella Swan, and she was about to kick some ass.

Lifting her head high and swallowing back the nerves that threatened, she walked purposefully down the hallway and banged three times on the door. The music was still playing, quieter now, but there were no other sounds from behind the door. Isabella didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified.

_Maybe they were in bed together?_

Isabella clenched her jaw, and her fist, and pounded the door again.

"One minute! Dammit, it's three in the fucking morning!"

It was the same female voice that Isabella had heard on the phone earlier that night, and it once again ripped at Isabella's heart. She closed her eyes briefly as she heard the locks being pulled back and steadied herself as the door began to open.

The face that met her was indescribably and heart-breakingly beautiful. Heart breaking because, Isabella knew, there was no way that Cullen could have resisted the woman that stood before her. She was tall, and blonde, and had a face and body that wouldn't have looked out of place on the cover of Vogue or Sports Illustrated. She oozed sexiness and confidence, and, right then, anger and complete distrust.

"What?" she snapped with one raised eyebrow. "Someone better be dead or dying, lady. I was almost asleep. What the hell do you want?"

Isabella blinked at the statuesque woman standing in front of her and exhaled down her nose. "Cullen. Is he in?"

The woman's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why? Who's asking?"

"Is he in?" Isabella repeated evenly. "It's important that I speak to him."

Crystal blue eyes travelled slowly down Isabella's form, making her shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, before resting accusingly on Isabella's face.

"You're _her_ aren't you?" she said with an expression that would have turned a lesser woman to salt.

"Her?" Isabella asked incredulously with a slight shake of her head. "Could you be more specific?"

"Oh, I'll be specific alright," Blondie threatened as she opened the door wider so she could take a step towards Isabella. "I'll be specific enough when I kick your whoring fucking ass across the fucking island."

Isabella's eyes widened and she held her palms up in front of her in defence. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You!" the super model-cum-bodyguard snarled back. "You're the tutor, right? _Bella_, is it? The tutor who treats people's feelings like shit? The tutor who's had Edward in fucking pieces, drinking himself into a damn stupor!"

Her voice was extraordinarily loud by the time she had finished her rant, and her glorious face was seething. Isabella didn't even have time to answer before the blonde advanced on her, towering over Isabella's five feet four inch frame.

"How could you do that to him?" she growled as she pointed her long index finger into Isabella's chest. "How could you make him feel like that? Hurt him so much? Do you have any idea what _I've _had to deal with today?"

"I...I..." Isabella stuttered as she continued to walk backwards until her back hit the far wall of the hallway.

"You stupid, _selfish_ bitch, you don't give a shit about him, do you?"

"I do!" Isabella urged as the woman grabbed her by the lapels of her denim jacket. "Get off me! I do give a shit...please, that's...that's why I'm here!"

"ROSALIE!"

The two women froze momentarily before Rosalie turned her head slowly to the right. Isabella, breathing heavily, manoeuvred herself so that she could see the man whose bellowing voice made her insides clench and twist. She couldn't move far, however, as Rosalie's grip on her was not for loosening. Woman may have looked exquisite and delicate, but she was strong as hell.

"What the _fuck _is going on out here?"

Isabella heard heavy, bare foot falls on the hallway floor before Cullen appeared at their side, bare-chested, bruised, and dishevelled, and looking completely thrown by the fact that Isabella was there. He was beautiful. Isabella felt her throat close when she saw his eyes widen before glazing over with the same hate that she had seen in him before she had walked out of her apartment.

Cullen opened his mouth and closed it several times before he looked pointedly at Rosalie.

"Let her go, Rose," he said. His face was still stern and sleepy and Isabella could smell the alcohol on his breath, and the smoke on his body.

"No fucking way," Rosalie replied as she snapped her head back towards Isabella, her eyes filled with fire. "Bitch needs her ass handing to her."

"Not by you," Cullen said firmly.

Rosalie looked at him aghast. "You're shitting me, right?"

Cullen exhaled down his nose. Isabella noticed his eyes flicker away from Rosalie's face to hers and back again. He shook his head slowly, almost guiltily. "Let her go."

"Cullen, how can you...? After _everything_ that you said toda-"

"I don't give a fuck about what I said, Rose, just let her go!" Cullen closed his eyes and clasped the bridge of his nose as his chest heaved.

Rosalie looked almost as stunned as Isabella knew she must. Clearing her throat to signal her utter disapproval at Cullen's words, Rosalie dropped Isabella's jacket from her hands and glowered down at her. Isabella ran her palms down her front in an effort to make herself look more presentable while she purposefully kept her eyes away from both Cullen and Rosalie.

"What are you doing here, Bella?" Cullen muttered with zero intonation.

Isabella looked up at him and, feeling her throat grow arid, licked her lips. "I wanted to talk to you."

"At three in the fucking morning?" Rosalie laughed sarcastically as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Rose," Cullen murmured as he gave her a firm glance. He looked back at Isabella and shrugged his shoulders petulantly, "What about? We've said all there is to say."

Isabella shook her head and frowned. "You didn't give me a chance to say half of what I wanted to say today."

Rosalie scoffed and stepped towards Isabella in a move that was purely intimidating. "Bitch, you don't deserve-"

"I'm not fucking _talking_ to you!" Isabella spit out towards Rosalie as anger rushed through her. _Who the fuck...?_

Rosalie blinked twice in absolute shock as Isabella's eyes shot daggers out at her, but, before she could take another step towards Isabella and take a swing at her, Cullen grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

"Rosalie," he warned. "Back off."

Rosalie, it appeared, was too damn mad to even speak or protest, until Cullen suggested for Isabella to go and wait in his apartment.

"What!" she screeched. "Cullen, have you lost your damn mind?"

"No," he answered flatly. With his eyes securely on Rosalie's he said: "Bella, go, I'll be in, in a sec."

Although Isabella felt uplifted by his offer, Rosalie's reaction immediately dragged her back down again. What had Cullen said that had made his 'sister' so mad? Was she always this protective of him? It wasn't exactly how Isabella had envisioned meeting any of Cullen's family – blood or otherwise. Between Jake and Rosalie, she wasn't making a very good impression. _Fuck. _Not that she cared_ that_ much. But, _fuck_.

She slinked into the apartment as Cullen and Rosalie continued their silent heated exchange and stood uncomfortably by the breakfast bar. Although she had pulled the door closed behind her, she noticed that it was still a little open, and, as a result, she could hear the furious murmurings that were taking place in the hallway.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rosalie hissed. "After everything she did to you today? After everything that you've _said_?"

"I know what I'm doing, Rose," Cullen protested in an exhausted voice.

"Bullshit," she countered. "You don't have the first damn clue. How can you trust her after she went to Peter like that? You told her how you felt about him and she _still_ went. What does that say about her?"

There was a beat of silence before Rosalie continued. "It tells me that she _can't_ be trusted, Cullen. You _can't_ trust her. I don't care _who_ or _what_ she is to you."

There was a sigh and the stuttered padding of bare feet along the hallway. Isabella felt her heart start to deflate once again. Rosalie didn't know what the hell she was talking about. Isabella had spoken to Peter to protect Cullen, not to throw away his trust. Rosalie didn't know how Isabella felt about Cullen, she didn't have any idea and that fact made Isabella's blood boil. Of course she was happy that Cullen had someone who was so protective over him, but dammit, could she not take a breath and hear the facts first?

Isabella briefly considered Leah and Jamie and how they would react if the situation was reversed. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. They'd be the exact same way. In fact, Rosalie would probably seem tame and conservative against Leah.

The murmurings in the hallway dropped to a level that made it impossible for Isabella to hear. She leaned against the nearest wall and rubbed her hands down her face. Maybe this hadn't been a great idea? Maybe her grandmother had been wrong?

Isabella rubbed at the place in her chest that had felt so hollow all day. Just knowing that Cullen was near her, had made it shrink. It still ached and felt jagged when she breathed, but his presence alone made it more bearable.

_No._ Nana Boo was right. Isabella had to fight for what she wanted. And she wanted Cullen.

Isabella's musings were interrupted by the violent opening of the apartment door which was preceded by a whirl of muttered curses and blonde hair. Rosalie didn't even look at Isabella and, instead, stormed over to the couch, grabbed a bag and a jacket that were strewn on the chair, and pushed her feet into a small, black pair of tennis shoes.

Before she got back to the apartment door she turned around and sneered at Isabella.

"You hurt him again, and I _will_ kill you." Deep in the pit of Isabella's stomach under the part of her that wanted to laugh at the blonde's dramatics, she knew that Rosalie meant every word.

Through the door that Rosalie had left open, Isabella watched as Cullen pulled her into a tight hug, mumbled something into her shoulder, and kissed her on the cheek softly, apologetically. Isabella immediately felt remorseful for thinking that he would have betrayed her by sleeping with someone else.

Having those types of thoughts made her no better than Cullen was when he had accused her of fucking Peter that afternoon. Isabella continued to watch the pair surreptitiously. Cullen and Rosalie's interaction was anything but sexual. They hugged and kissed like siblings, and seemingly argued and disagreed like them too.

Rosalie glared at Isabella through the doorway, squeezed Cullen's hand, and left. Cullen ran the same hand through his hair, scratched at his stomach, and padded back into the apartment. Keeping his eyes on Isabella's, he closed the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

For an age, Cullen and Isabella simply stared at one another: both angry, both confused, both desperate to touch each other.

Cullen hated to admit it, but it was a fucking relief to see her. He had been puzzled as all shit when, after dragging his drunken, useless ass to bed, he had heard raised voices and found Rosalie pinning his Bella to the wall. As much as he loved Rosalie and appreciated her protectiveness, seeing her threaten Bella made his insides burn. Bella may have hurt him beyond anything that he had ever felt before, but he'd be damned if someone hurt _her_.

"So," he uttered with a lethargic raise and drop of his right shoulder. "What are you doing here, Bella?"

She pushed her hands into her jeans pockets and swallowed. She looked terrified and it ripped Cullen apart, but he wouldn't let her see it.

"I wanted to talk to you," she explained. "I know that it's late, but I couldn't wait for morning. I needed to tell you everything now."

"Why?" he asked with a grimace.

"Because I hate how we left things this afternoon. I hate that we both said things that we didn't mean and-"

"I didn't," he interrupted cockily.

Isabella paused and frowned in confusion. "You didn't what?"

"I didn't say anything that I didn't mean. I meant every word I said to you."

Isabella's face twisted slightly in anguish. "You don't mean that, Cullen."

"Don't tell me what I mean, Bella," he growled. "You made your choice. _You_ walked out on _me_. Don't tell me what I do or don't mean...just..._don't_."

Isabella felt a slow anger rise through her body at Cullen's words. "So you meant it when you said about me...fucking Peter?"

Cullen felt his fists tighten under his arms, and his lungs constrict horrendously in his chest, just like the first time he had heard Bella say those words. He'd kill the motherfucker if he had touched even a hair on her head let alone gone anywhere near her in _that_ way. The mere thought of it made Cullen feel nauseous and filled him with a rage that was murderous and overwhelming, and was the main reason as to why he had tried to lose himself in a bottle of Jack for the past ten hours.

He'd have managed it too if it hadn't been for Rosalie. He'd have snorted that coke too...

Cullen squared his shoulders and raised his chin, staring levelly at Bella across the apartment. "Well, you did run off hella quick, but you know what? I couldn't give a shit, Bella," he lied. "You don't owe me anything, just like I don't owe _you_ anything."

The words were untrue and tasteless in his mouth. He did give a shit. In fact, he gave too much of a shit, and that was the problem. He had fallen hard and had been severely burned. It was time to protect him self again. And if that meant lying to Bella to get her to leave him and his battered heart alone, then he was willing to do it.

Isabella remained silent, holding back the torrent of tears, screams and vitriol that were surging through her. She met Cullen's dark green gaze and shook her head. "I don't believe you," she murmured.

Cullen frowned in annoyance and shook his head. "What don't you believe?"

"I don't believe that you don't give a shit." She paused and took a step towards him. "You _do_ give a shit...and it scares you to death."

"Whatever," Cullen dismissed as he dropped his arms and stormed passed her towards the kitchen.

He grabbed a large glass from the cupboard and filled it with cold water at the sink. He needed to calm down and take a breath. He hated that she knew him so well. He hated that she cared so much that she was in his apartment in the middle of the night, and he hated that all he wanted to do was hold her.

How was that even possible? She had stripped him bare when she had walked out of her apartment to go to that fucker. Why did he still give a shit about her?

"Because you care about me," Isabella answered. Cullen had apparently been talking out loud.

He dropped the glass heavily into the sink and gripped the edges of it. "So what if I do, Bella?" he said without turning to her. "Huh? So what if I care? You don't care about me."

Isabella scowled. "Of course I fucking care about you, Cullen! I...How can you think that?"

"How can I think that?" Cullen repeated as he span around and glared at his Peaches. "You went to him, Bella! You left _me_ and went to_ him_! You took everything that I had told you about him and me and threw it back in my fucking face! Those aren't the actions of someone who cares, Bella!"

Isabella folded her arms and shook her head in frustration. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Clearly!" Cullen barked back.

"I did it for _you_!" Isabella cried out, feeling her tears start to coat her eyes.

Cullen laughed without humour, "For me? Yeah, sure, Bella."

"Oh God, just _listen_ to yourself!" Isabella exclaimed in exasperation. "How can you not see? How can you not see that I did it to protect you, to keep you from being hurt by Peter? You're such a stubborn, blind fool!"

Cullen raised his eyebrows in mock agreement. "That may be, Bella, but I know the difference between right and wrong, and what _you_ did was fucking wrong."

He pushed off from the counter and strode towards the living room where he grabbed his pack of Marlboro and lit one quickly. He blew out the smoke with his back still facing Bella, and closed his eyes at the soothing sensation of the smoke that he had inhaled.

He heard her walk closer to him and tensed instantly.

"What I did wasn't wrong," she murmured. "What I did was for you...for us."

"Bullshit," he growled.

"Fuck, Cullen," Isabella yelled in anger, "What would you have preferred to have happened, huh? You would have rather he come up to the apartment and seen us together?"

Cullen snapped his body around to Bella so quickly that she stumbled back slightly. His nose was inches from hers as he spat out: "What I would have _preferred_, Bella, was for me to have gone down to the lobby with your pussy juice still all over my face and fingers, and made him smell that shit just so he knew who you belonged to!"

Isabella gasped at the same time as her eyes widened. She had no idea whether she was utterly appalled or entirely turned on by what Cullen had just said. She swallowed as her eyes flickered down to his perfect mouth that had brought her such pleasure before their bubble had been burst by Peter.

Cullen noticed this and licked his lips in response.

"That would have been..._such_ a stupid idea," Isabella murmured blinking away her need for him.

"Well, we'll never know, will we?" Cullen retorted, trying hard to ignore the lust on her face.

He stood upright and moved back from her, not trusting his control. He may have been hurt, tired and mad as shit with her, but, fuck, he still craved Bella's body like Ambrosia. He gravitated to her, which was why it was so damn painful to watch her leave him standing like a fucker in her apartment. He had stood there for nearly fifteen minutes before he was able to move his feet and leave.

He had been in a wounded daze that had changed all through the day into a furious cloud of resentment and vengeance. He had drunk his ass almost sober, called Rosalie, and pleaded with her to help him before he was tempted to shove the line of coke that had been sitting on his coffee table up his nose. She'd slapped the shit out of him when she had arrived at his apartment, cried, and thrown his sweaty, drunk ass into the shower.

He remembered calling Bella from Rose's cell having had his taken away by her after he had threatened to call Peter. Had he spoken to her? He'd be damned if he could remember.

"I wish you understood, Cullen," Bella whispered behind him. "I _did_ do it for you. I did it because...I couldn't live with myself if he found out about...us, and used that against you."

Cullen grimaced and dropped his smoke into an ashtray on his mantle.

"_You_ said that, Cullen," she continued. "You told me that he would do that, and...I _can't_ let him hurt you that way."

Cullen felt his heart pang in a way that he was starting to become used to when he was around Bella. He rubbed his chest with the tips of his fingers and took a deep breath to try and ease it.

"You sure you're not just worried about you, Bella?" he said with a derogatory tone. He turned his head slowly, cocking a surprised eyebrow when he saw that she had sat down on the edge of the sofa.

"What are you talking about?" she asked as she kept her eyes on her feet. She looked defeated and Cullen couldn't help but feel guilty at his asshole behaviour. He fought the emotion away and exhaled in annoyance.

"I mean...you can't just be worried about me." Cullen gestured towards her with a wave of his hand. "You'd lose your job, right? Your family would find out that you've been fucking an ex con. It won't exactly be rainbows and sunshine for you either if Peter finds out."

Isabella nodded and smiled wryly. "And yet, _here_ I am." She looked up at him with a fierce gleam in her eyes. "And don't say that about us being together - about us 'fucking'. It's more than that and you know it even if your stubborn ass won't admit it."

Cullen shrugged tetchily. He was without words. Of course he knew that they were more than that. They were _so_ much more than that. He felt it every time that they touched, kissed, and when he pushed into her tight, hot body. The smell of her and the feel of her skin against his sent him insane, and being in the same room as her, without being able to touch her, was the sweetest torture Cullen had ever known.

"I _do_ care about my job, Cullen," Isabella said softly as small tears fell down her cheeks. "But I care about you more. I care about your parole, and I care about whether your asshole cousin blackmails you into handing over your share of the company because you're 'fucking' your tutor."

Cullen flinched at her use of his words, and felt the armour that he had tried to reassemble throughout the day start to bend and creak under the weight of her words. Bella had already weakened it. If Cullen allowed her to, she would have it around his feet within seconds. He wrapped his arms around himself, clutching to it unashamedly.

Had she really just done it for him? Had she really thought only of him, even when he had said such awful fucking things to her?

"My family..." she trailed off, "My grandmother from Chicago. The one I went to visit on my Dad's anniversary. She called me tonight...I haven't spoken to her for a while. I told her everything, Cullen."

Cullen frowned in suspicion. "Everything?" he echoed in a low voice.

Isabella nodded, "Yeah."

Cullen swallowed down the odd feeling of lightness that filled his chest. "Why?"

Isabella folded her hands on her lap and looked down at them, "Because I hurt so much. Because I needed to talk to someone, and because she asked. I wanted to be with you, Cullen, and...I told her so."

Cullen pushed his hands into his pockets. He stood, dumbstruck, staring at the beautiful creature that had turned his life the fuck upside down. What was he meant to say to that? Rosalie was the only person who knew about his relationship with Bella and that was because he had cursed her for the entire day, wishing horrible things to happen her and her best buddy Peter. Whether he truly meant them or not was inconsequential. He had said them, and _that_ was what mattered.

While he had been wallowing in a bottle of Jack, Bella had been confessing all to her family. Yeah. He _was_ a complete asshole.

He cleared his throat before he began to talk. "You _wanted_ to be with me?" His palms rubbed against the opposite biceps. "As in, you don't anymore?"

"Does it matter?"

Cullen looked down at his feet and sighed. "I guess not."

"I know that you have issues with your temper and you're stubborn as hell, Cullen," Isabella explained. "But I can live with that shit."

Cullen blinked at her with hard eyes. She could see his bruised jaw tensing at her words, but she wouldn't be put off.

"What I can't live with is you accusing me of being a 'cock-tease' and believing that I would forget everything that I feel for you just so I can get my fucking rocks off with your cousin."

"It's not that, Bella!" Cullen exploded in frustration as that very image flashed behind his eyelids again. "It's not you! It's him! He _wants_ you. He wants you so fucking badly, and I know what he's capable of."

Isabella stood and thrust a finger in his direction. "And that's _exactly _my point. Do you not understand that anything he says to me is utter bullshit? Do you not understand what I went through today? I told him that I couldn't be with him. I had to give him some stupid lie of an excuse when all I really wanted to do, was scream in his face that I'm with _you_! I had to pretend that I actually like being in the same room as him, when I know what a monster he really is and how much he has hurt you."

Cullen ran his agitated hands through his hair and bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from spewing more venom about his cousin.

"I'm not stupid, Cullen, and your assumption that I will just roll over and open my legs for him hurts more than you know!"

"Don't," Cullen growled as he took a step towards her in warning. "Don't fucking say things like that."

"Why?" Isabella asked as she slapped her hands uselessly against her thighs. "That's what you think, isn't it? You think that he'll convince me that you're a worthless criminal who knows no better and that I'll just fall into his arms, right?"

"That's what he _wants_!" Cullen roared as his eyes blazed.

"But it's not what _I _want!" Isabella yelled just as loudly.

Cullen stared at her flushed, livid face, and blinked. The blood was pounding in his ears and his heart felt like it had started to skip every third beat.

He stood up straight slowly and inhaled deeply. "What _do_ you want, Bella?" he asked quietly.

Isabella remained silent, as she wiped at the angry tears that had settled at her chin.

"_What_ do you want?" he repeated.

Isabella exhaled as her shoulders slumped. She felt beaten and overwhelmed, and suddenly very small.

Cullen shifted closer to her, holding his breath. "Dammit," he pleaded, hearing his own voice break. "What do you _want_?"

"I just...want _you_, Cullen," she breathed. "That's all I've ever wanted since the day you walked into my classroom."

Cullen began to loosen his grip on the armour that covered every inch of his body, inside and out, as she continued to talk.

"I want you to stop pushing me away every time that you get scared or jealous, because _I'm_ scared too. I want you to talk to me instead of shutting me out, because it terrifies me to think that we have secrets. I want you to trust me and understand that what I did today was for us because I want us to work." She took a deep breath. "And I want you to...I want you to..."

"What, Bella?"

"I want you to tell me that you didn't mean what you said to me today before I left and that you're sorry, because if you can't...I really don't know if…if we can work."

Cullen took a shaky step back from Isabella and leaned against the mantle. He blew a long breath through his pursed lips and rubbed the scabbing side of his head.

She wanted all of that. She wanted all of that from him. _With_ him. _Holy shit._

For a split second, Cullen felt very young and inexperienced. He didn't like it, but, for the love of God he was desperate to give her what she wanted. His pride just needed to get the fuck out of the way.

"That's what you want, huh?" he asked as his palm rubbed the back of his neck.

Isabella nodded with her eyes towards the floor. "That's what I want." She sniffed and placed her palms over her face in an effort to calm down.

Cullen watched as her shoulders shook with the stuttering breaths that she was taking. She looked exhausted, broken, and weak: adjectives that he would never have considered using to describe his Peaches. She was strong, feisty, and determined, and Cullen suddenly realised with a painful jolt that she was that way because of him.

He was breaking her.

"Bella," he murmured, unable to move. "I…I just…"

She looked up at him with large, tired eyes and waited for him to speak.

He exhaled and rubbed the backs of his fingers across the stubble of his chin. "Maybe we should sleep. I'm fucked, you look dead-beat…" He trailed off when he saw her face drop and her eyes close.

"Fine," she whispered as she pulled her jacket further around her small body. "I'll…I'll leave you to sleep." She turned from him and made her way across the apartment to the door.

"Bella, wait," he called after her as his feet began moving swiftly after her.

He had no control over that shit. _Gravitated_.

He came to a dead stop when she turned back to him.

"Stay here," he said softly as the last of his armour dropped heavily to the floor. "Don't go home like this…just…"

"I can't, Cullen," she whispered. "I can't stay and sleep with you and get lost in you. I can't simply forget everything that-"

"No," he interrupted with his palms up in surrender. "I don't want you to stay for that. Shit, I…I just want you to stay…here…with me. Just…you and me. No bullshit."

Isabella eyed him warily and began to shake her head.

"I'll sleep on the damn couch," he offered as he gestured towards the fucking thing. "You can have my bed."

"I can't take your be-"

"Peaches, seriously, just…_have_ my fucking bed," he groaned in agitation.

There may have been a hint of begging but Cullen didn't allow himself to contemplate that for long. He noticed a whisper of a smile cross Bella's face, and he cocked his head in question. "What?"

"Nothing, you, um…you called me Peaches," she answered quietly.

Cullen thought back quickly to what he had just said. He shrugged. "Well, that's who you are, Bella. You're my Peaches."

Isabella nodded once thoughtfully, and bit her bottom lip.

"So," Cullen exhaled. "Will you stay?"

Isabella stared back at him for what felt like hours before she blinked slowly and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," Cullen breathed as he felt his body relax almost instantly. "Thank you...I mean, good." He fumbled and cracked his knuckles nervously "Do you…d'ya need anything, a drink maybe?"

Isabella looked towards the kitchen. "Water would be good."

Cullen hurried and clanged about the kitchen as he poured out two glasses of water. He handed Isabella hers cautiously and looked at her with soft eyes. Isabella tried not to allow herself to see the apology that lay around the edges of his large pupils. It wouldn't be enough unless she heard him say the words. He had to be able to communicate with her, otherwise they're relationship just wouldn't work. It would shatter her heart, but she would have to walk away from him if he didn't meet her half way. It was the least he could do.

Cullen gestured for her to walk towards his room and he followed her after he had placed his water down on the table by the sofa. The covers that Rosalie had planned on using for her makeshift bed on the couch were still there, but he wanted another pillow.

Isabella placed her bag at the end of Cullen's bed and her glass on the bed side table. She shook off her jacket as Cullen grabbed his favourite pillow (the one that Bella had slept on when she had stayed). He let his eyes flicker up to her as she pulled off her shoes and socks, and moved her hands to unfasten her jeans.

"Do you want a shirt to sleep in?" he asked through a thick lustful throat as her fingers paused on the fly and moved to the hem of her top.

"No, I'm fine. Thanks." she answered as she pulled off her t-shirt to leave her in a small, white vest that showed copious amounts of her luscious, pink skin. He couldn't make out the straps of a bra which was just fucking torturous.

Cullen gripped the pillow to his chest, pushing his fingers into the plush fabric, remembering how soft Bella's skin was all over her entire body. The softness could only be overshadowed by its taste. It was so damn sweet down her stomach, and up her neck, but her lips were the most delicious.

Like spun sugar.

Both sets.

_Fuck._

He meandered leisurely around the bed until he was only two steps away from her. She glanced up at him and lifted the right side of her mouth. "You'll be warm enough?" she asked.

"Sure," Cullen answered quickly with a wave of his hand. "I've slept on worse."

They stared at one another, both feeling the tension change infinitesimally from hurt and upset to heat and wanting. It was a slow but intense build up that had the power to make the bedroom walls heave in anticipation.

Cullen shifted closer to her and let the back of his index finger skim across the outside of Bella's left wrist. He heard her take a large breath, and watched entranced as her chest lifted under the thin fabric of her top. The electricity surged between them both, and, for one brief moment, Cullen thought that she was going to kiss him.

Fucking Christ he wanted her to kiss him.

But she didn't.

Instead she swallowed tightly and took a slight half step back from him. "Goodnight, Cullen," she said quietly.

Cullen blinked through his desire for her and nodded lazily. "Goodnight, Bella," he replied.

He smiled gently and made his way out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. He leaned against it for a second, hating the physical and emotional distance between the two of them. After knocking his head against it several times, he plodded over to the sofa and threw the pillow down in aggravation at himself.

"Fucking idiot, Cullen," he seethed at himself through clenched teeth as he gripped at his hair. "You're a Class A idiot."

He threw himself down onto the sofa, clutching his smokes in his hand and sparked one as he lay back and scowled angrily at the ceiling. He knew what he needed to do to make this better. Bella had told him. All he needed to do was tell her that he was sorry and that he hadn't meant what he had said to her about her relationship with Peter. Thing was, at the time, he _had_ meant it. He had just been so fucking angry with her. With him. With the whole fucked up situation.

His mouth had joined up with his hurt pride and protective caveman instincts and spewed a fuck load of nasty shit that he knew would shred Bella to pieces. His wounded heart wanted to hurt her back and his words and actions were all he had to fight with. The look on her face when he had called her a cock-tease had made the hairs on his neck stand on end. She had been devastated, and understandably so. Of course, Cullen knew that she was anything but, but dammit he hadn't been able to help himself.

He never could where Bella was concerned.

He blew the smoke out towards the light fitting and closed his eyes. She was here. His Bella was here and she was in his bed. He rubbed his bare chest with his smoking hand, and pulled the wool blanket up to cover his body with the other.

Sucking on the last part of his cigarette, Cullen began to consider the path on which his and Bella's relationship was now on. The fact was that she had come for him. She had come for him and showed that she was willing to fight for what she wanted. She wanted him, and that thought alone made parts of Cullen grow warm and tight while paradoxically sending chills up his spine.

She had been right when she had told him that he was scared.

This was why he denied the intense feelings that bubbled up whenever he was around her. This was why he had worked on shutting her out with his words, armour, and ego. He didn't want to open himself up again to the pain and confusion that he had felt for the past twelve hours.

Scared? He was fucking petrified.

He was scared that she would hurt him again like she had done today – whether it was intentional or not. He was scared that unimportant and interfering people would come between them and drive them apart. He was scared that her family would tell her that he was a fuckup and no good for her and that one day she would wake up and realise that they were completely right.

But most of all, he was terrified that he would eventually let her down.

Like he was doing right now by not apologising.

But what would happen if he didn't? She would leave, and he wouldn't blame her. He would tell her not to, but he knew that she would be doing the right thing. That was why he hadn't been able to let her leave tonight. The selfish motherfucker inside of him just couldn't let her go. She would be his for one more night. His chest twisted painfully at the thought of losing her. He had promised himself that he wouldn't; that he would keep her for as long as she would have him.

He just had to apologise.

He sighed and flicked his extinguished smoke into the ashtray. He pushed his arms under the pillow, under his head and closed his eyes, trying to slow down his brain

In the morning, he thought. In the morning everything would be fine.

=PoF=

Isabella didn't know how long she had been asleep when she opened her eyes to the still dark room. She nuzzled the covers that were tucked around her shoulders and breathed the smell of Cullen deep into her lungs. It seemed stronger than it had been before, but she liked it.

She was still annoyed at herself for accepting his sleep over proposal, but was equally proud of herself for not kissing him when every part of her body had screamed at her to do so. The man would be the death of her.

Her body was exhausted and her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton as the dull throbbing headache persisted behind her tired eyes. She felt weary and battle worn. She had tried to explain to Cullen, from the very first moment, why she was so angry and why she had spoken to Peter, and yet, he had still fought her, claiming that she was only worried about herself; she'd done it all for herself.

His words had cut deep to say the very fucking least, but Isabella had silently repeated Nana Boo's mantra in her head over and over: _'If it doesn't hurt, it isn't worth fighting for.'_

She wasn't sure what the hell she would do if he couldn't or wouldn't apologise. He seemed sorry, and he certainly looked apologetic when she had told him that they wouldn't work if he didn't say it, but she needed to hear it from him. She wanted to know that he was as invested in them as she was. She didn't need candlelight, flowers and romance from him – he wasn't like that, and, truthfully, neither was she – all she needed were two simple words. It would be a huge step for him, Isabella appreciated that, but he _had_ to do it, for both of them.

Like Nana Boo had said, if they were to be in an adult relationship then they had to start acting like it. That's what had lead her to his door at stupid o'clock in the morning. She had stepped up. Isabella just prayed that Cullen would respond in kind.

With the covers still tucked close to her body, Isabella wriggled and moved so that she was lying on her back. The squeal of fright that left her, when she noticed a large body lying to her right, reverberated around the room like a damn siren.

"Fuck, Bella!" Cullen exclaimed as he grabbed her arm as it flailed out in panic. "It's just me! It's just me!"

"Jesus!" Isabella gasped as she slumped back against the pillows. "You scared me to death."

"I gathered," he replied timidly as he released her arm slowly. "I didn't mean to."

Isabella narrowed her eyes in the darkness, tracing the strong outline of his jaw and the chaos on the top of his head. Her heart slowed from her initial fright, but maintained a steady thump at Cullen's close proximity.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly, suddenly very aware that she was only dressed in her cami-top and panties and he was still naked from the waist up.

"I couldn't sleep," he answered softly. "I, um…I sleep better…next to you."

Isabella remained quiet as she listened to him take a couple of deep breaths.

"I can leave," he offered with a hint of distaste. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfor-"

"You don't," she interrupted. She cleared her throat. "It's alright. Besides, it's your bed."

"Yeah," he replied as he scratched his chin.

The silence continued, as they stared at each other in the darkness. Isabella noticed him rub at his bruised rib.

"Is it sore?" she asked, unable to hide her concern.

"It's not too bad. Rosalie put more shit on it earlier. I'll be alright."

"Okay," Isabella whispered. "That's good." She suppressed a yawn and discreetly snuggled further down under the covers. As she pulled them, she realised that Cullen was lying on top of them. "You must be cold."

"I'm fine."

"Get under," she said with an eye roll.

"Bella, it's fine. I'm-"

"Get. Under."

She heard him laugh lightly with a soft breath down his nose, and watched as he stood, pushed back the quilt, and got back underneath it.

"Okay," he admitted as he adjusted his pillow. "It _is_ a lot warmer under the covers."

"Stubborn ass," Isabella muttered as she rolled to her side, leaving her back to him.

"I know," he murmured sadly.

Isabella froze at the tone of his voice and felt her heart skip a beat when she felt him move closer.

"Bella?"

"Mmhm."

"I…I'm…I…" He shifted closer still, until she could feel his body heat against her back. "Thank you for staying."

Isabella closed her eyes and fought back the tears that threatened as the hope in her receded. "No problem."

She was sure that she heard him curse to himself, but she wouldn't allow herself to wonder why, and she definitely wouldn't allow herself to think that the gentle, tickling sensation down the centre of her back was his fingertips.

She lay for an age as the sensation continued, across her shoulders, down her right side; across the small of her back, and let the tears spill silently from her eyes.

"You're right, Bella," he whispered eventually.

She didn't move, nor did she respond. Instead, Isabella lay still and waited for him to continue.

"I _am_ a stubborn ass." He sighed. "And I'm a blind fool."

Isabella clutched her pillow and scrunched her eyes tightly shut.

"And I…" He cleared his throat. "I felt like you had taken half of me with you when you walked out of that door today. I've been lying on that couch out there for three fucking hours, thinking about what you said to me; about why you did it."

His voice became low, careful. "I believe that you didn't do it to hurt me purposefully, Bella, but I need you to know that, regardless of your intentions, it really fucking did."

Cullen paused his fingers at the base of her neck and swallowed. She was so close, there were mere inches between them, but she was still so very far away. He could sense it in the tension of her body and the stuttering breaths that left her. He hated it. He hated that he had caused it.

He had to be closer to her. He had to have her closer, nearer. He closed his eyes and began to talk, praying like hell that it would bring her back to him.

"I need you to know that…I _am_ scared." He laughed without humour. "I'm fucking terrified. I need you to know that I would never keep anything from you, and that I'll tell you anything that you wanna know. I don't want secrets either, Bella."

He moved the very tips of his fingers to the edge of her top between her shoulders.

"I need you to know that I _will_ get jealous, and pissy, and act like a fucking asshole because that's all I know. I don't like men looking at you, talking to you…and if they fucking _touch_ you, I…It drives me insane," he growled as his voice took on a quiet, dangerous tone. "But I also need you to know that I'll try to…I'll try to talk instead of pushing you away or fighting with you. I don't want to push you away, Bella, and I hate fighting with you. I can't…"

He sighed again and fought back the fear in his chest and throat. He felt like he was about to jump out of a plane without a damn parachute.

_Save me, Bella. Catch me._

"I need you to know that I want you too. I'd like to say that I wanted you from the minute I saw you in your classroom, but that would be a lie."

He gradually let his fingertips press gently against her back, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

"The truth is, Bella…the _truth_ is, I've wanted you my entire life. From the moment I saw you in the street and grabbed you, I wanted you."

"Cullen," Isabella whispered with a soft sob.

"No, Peaches, let me finish, please," he urged as he closed his eyes and pressed his palm against the skin at the small of her back.

Touching her made it easier. Touching her was all he ever wanted to do. He took an enormous breath and let it out slowly through his nose.

"I need you to know that…" he began, feeling his heart race. "I need you to know that…" He licked his lips. "I need you to know that…I'm _sorry_."

He felt Bella sink under his hand and her shoulders began to shake.

"I'm so sorry for what I said," Cullen whispered. "I didn't mean it, Bella. I just hurt so much, and I…fuck, I wanted you to hurt too, and I…"

He stopped as Bella started to turn over and gasped in surprise and unfathomable relief when he felt her hands on his face and her mouth hard against his. He groaned into her and wrapped his arms quickly, desperately, around her small body, pulling her over him as they found each other again.

"Oh God," she moaned. "I'm sorry too," she said as he wiped at the tears on her face. "I'm so sorry. I hate fighting with you, Cullen."

"I know it, baby," he replied as he kissed her again. He sucked in a ragged breath as their tongues met.

"I did it for us. I promise. I would _never_ hurt you." She gripped his hair and kissed him so hard that Cullen's head span. "I promise," she repeated. "I'm sorry."

Cullen pulled her closer and knotted his hands in her hair as her naked thigh slipped between his. "I promise too," he muttered against her perfect, sweet lips. "I'm sorry I hurt you. Dammit, I'm sorry, Bella."

Bella smiled against his mouth and shushed him. "It's okay," she crooned. She kissed his bruises soothingly, lovingly. "_We're_ okay."

Cullen nodded and pressed his forehead to hers. "Yeah," he sighed, feeling his lungs relax and grow. "We're okay."

"We're in this together," Bella said as her palm slid gently down the side of his face, "Right? You're with me?"

Cullen smiled and let his lips brush lightly over hers, "Of course I'm with you, baby. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I don't _want_ to be anywhere else."

"Me either," Bella whispered.

Cullen cupped her face and kissed her softly as the crack in his heart started to heal under her touch.

He smiled and closed his eyes. "We're in this together," he echoed, "Just you and me, Peaches."

**Holy a little teary eyed over here, Batman!**

**You knew our boy would come through, right? Of **_**course**_** you did.**

**So, because our couple haven't really caught a break for a while, the next chapter will be a little fluffy.**

**I love writing the angst, but I think they deserve it, don't you?**

**Talking of fluff and lemons, voting is still open at the ****Golden Lemon Awards**** where PoF is up for 4 awards: Best Dirty Talk, Best Worth the Wait Lemon, Best go to Re-read for Chapter 26, and Best Make Out (Central Park. Sigh.)**

**Plus, the beautiful RoseArcadia's awesome PoF blinkie is up for…Best Blinkie! Vote for her. She's a genius.**

**Voting closes on Monday and I'd love your vote. www (dot) goldenlemonawards (dot) com Or vote for your other faves!**

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**TTFN xx**


	33. Chapter 33

**Hello peeps!**

**Yes an update, and slightly earlier than scheduled. Flowers and kisses**_** are**_** appreciated.**

**Thank you to everyone who voted for A Pound of Flesh at 'The Golden Lemon Awards'. To be nominated was fantastic, but to win 3 was overwhelming. Thank you so, so much.**

**My appreciation is shown in this chapter, I hope.**

**To all my girls on Twitter, thank you for being awesome. I loves you like crazy. To the girls on the PoF Twilighted thread, thank you for your continued encouragement and comments about the story. You're amazing, and so good at spotting shit (must try harder). To the girls on FaceBook, thanks for your support.**

**To my Cherubs...ticket is booked, babies! Can't wait!**

***hands out dry panties* See you on the other side...**

"_If she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice and admit to being human and making mistakes...hold onto her. ~ __**Bob Marley.**_

_**Chapter Song**__: Changing Man by Paul Weller_

**Chapter 32: Shifting Sands**

Isabella awoke to find her body draped heavily over a very warm, very comfortable looking Cullen. Her head was tucked neatly under his rough, unshaven chin, and his arms were holding her to his chest as tight as she'd ever felt them while hers were wrapped snugly around his broad shoulders. They'd fallen asleep after their whispered apologies and desperate kisses and, seemingly, had never moved all night.

It was no surprise. The pair of them had been exhausted.

If it hadn't been for the acute pain that suddenly appeared in Isabella's lower abdomen and the overwhelming need that she had to pee, she would have happily stayed where she was forever. She lifted her head slowly and looked down at him. He looked so peaceful and young when he slept. His lips pursed into an adorable pout and his dark lashes were so long that they rested on the tops of his cheek bones. The bruises were still very visible, but the puffiness had eased. He looked more like the Cullen she knew: gentle, passionate and sensitive.

She pushed up gradually and felt him stir beneath her. He muttered and took a deep breath through his nose as she shifted his arms, and clutched and grabbed for her as she moved away.

"W'ya goin'?" he mumbled with his eyes still closed.

"Bathroom," she whispered back. She moved the hair that had fallen onto his head away from his eyes and smiled when he sighed in contentment.

She reached for her bag and hurried to the bathroom, feeling herself grimace before she even got to the toilet, knowing exactly what she would find. She sighed as she pulled down her panties and sat down.

"Fucking great," she grumbled. Her period had arrived, regular as clockwork.

Still sitting on the john, Isabella popped two Tylenol and unwrapped one of the emergency tampons that she kept in the bottom of her bag with the spare pair of panties that she kept for the same reason. One thing was for sure, there'd be no hot make-up sex for her.

"Shit," she hissed in disappointment as she pulled her clean pair of pink panties up her legs.

As she thought about it more, however, it dawned on her that maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. The past day had been one of the worst for Isabella. Her head, although relieved that Cullen had finally apologised, still felt tender and wounded by some of the things that he had said to her; accused her of.

She knew that it had been his knee jerk reaction to Peter and her plans to meet him, but he _had_ to learn to calm down and take a breath before he blew up. He flew off the handle so quickly and so ferociously that Isabella had had little choice but to walk away from him. She had cursed and berated herself for it afterward, but he had been so far from reason that there had been little point in trying to make him see it.

Isabella had deliberated over it a lot when she had first gotten into bed and, the truth was, they both needed to communicate more. With their clothes_ on._ Sexual attraction aside, Isabella knew that if they were unable to explain their worries, anxieties and feelings, then there was little hope for them building a solid, long lasting, and trusting relationship, which was what Isabella wanted. She had told Nana Boo about her reservations in terms of chasing after Cullen again when he had been so vicious to her.

Isabella prided herself with being strong; to standing up for herself in any and all situations. Crawling back to him was surely a contradiction to that, right?

"You're showing your strength by doing what he clearly cannot," Nana Boo had explained. "Say your piece, and let the chips fall where they may. As much as you love him, if he does not want to hear you, leave."

So that was what Isabella had done, and _he_ had returned to _her_, and apologised.

Isabella was not naive; they both had a long way to go, but, hell, she couldn't help but realise what a step forward it was for Cullen to admit his behaviour was wrong.

She looked at her face in the mirror above the sink as she washed her hands, and frowned at what she saw. Her eyes were still slightly blood shot, and her lips were swollen from their frantic union.

She splashed cold water on her face, placed some toothpaste on her tongue, and fastened her hair into a messy bun. She resembled some type of normal, but honestly, Cullen had seen her at her very worst. What the hell did she have to worry about?

She padded back into his room to find him still fast asleep. His chest lifted and dropped with deep slumber filled breaths and he occasionally made a soft humming sound that made Isabella's skin warm all over. Glancing at the clock on the side table, she saw that it was after one o'clock in the afternoon. She stretched quietly, pulled the covers over his body, and made her way out of the bedroom into the living room.

The smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol was fairly pungent, so Isabella opened two of the large windows at the far end of the room, to let in some fresh air. She cleared the glasses and cups that were still sitting across the coffee table before folding the covers from the couch, and arranged the cushions as best as she could. Filling the sink with hot water she washed the pots that were lying around the place and wiped down all the surfaces in the sitting room and kitchen with a damp cloth.

She was replacing the bag in the trash can when she heard Cullen's bedroom door open.

He wandered around the corner, bare foot and freshly showered, and looking slightly confused in his black jeans and deep green _Vampire Weekend_ t-shirt. Isabella stood and smiled nervously as she finished tying the used trash bag.

Cullen cocked an eyebrow in question and let his gaze wander lazily down her cami top, panties and bare legs.

"I cleaned," she offered as her skin broke out into goose bumps under his stare. Cullen looked around himself and nodded. He still looked perplexed. "I had the urge to clean."

It was her hormones. The fuckers were a curse.

"You, um...you didn't have to do this," he said in a croaky voice that was the only clue that he was hung-over. He certainly didn't look it. He looked sexy as hell.

"I know," Isabella answered quickly. "But you were asleep and I wasn't so..."

Cullen smirked. "So you cleaned."

"Yeah," she replied with a shrug.

He took a step towards her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He raised his right hand and let the tips of his fingers brush across her forearm. "Well, I guess the least I can do is go and buy you breakfast," he murmured as he moved closer.

"Lunch," Isabella corrected.

"Lunch," Cullen repeated with a grin after he had glanced at his watch. "There's a fucking great sandwich shop down the street. Sound good?"

Isabella smiled and nodded, "Sounds great."

"Okay." He cupped the left side of her face gently and let the pad of his thumb run tenderly under her eye. "I'll go and get you a sandwich. Feel free to have a shower, bath, whatever."

Isabella swallowed and leaned into his touch. "Okay," she hummed.

His lips twitched slightly and his eyes momentarily became tight and anxious. "You don't need to leave, right? I mean, if you need to go, that's fine."

Isabella shook her head and rubbed his forearm. "No. I don't have anywhere I need to be."

Cullen smiled and licked his lips. "That's fucking...I mean..." he laughed lightly at his own lack of articulation. "That's some good news."

He bent down slowly and let the tip of his nose rub against hers. "You're here," he sighed. "And...I, fuck...it is _so_ good to see you, Peaches."

Isabella gripped the side of his t-shirt as her knees wobbled. Did he really think that she would have left? Her heart stuttered. He was _so_ insecure. This, this right here, was why they needed to open up and talk more.

"You too," she replied as his rough cheek slid against hers.

She prepared herself for his lips, but instead he simply pulled her body closer and hugged her tightly. He buried his nose into her hair and breathed her in while Isabella pushed her own nose into his neck. He smelled of rich berries, cologne, and smoke. _Perfect._

"I'm sorry," he whispered huskily by her ear. "I really am sorry, Bella."

Isabella wasn't one hundred per cent sure as to whether she was meant to hear him, but the sound of his apology once again set her heart racing. She let her hand rub leisurely along his ribs then around to his back. She squeezed him and placed her mouth on his shoulder.

"I know," she answered as she nuzzled his warmth. "Me too."

"Good," he said in a low voice. He exhaled in what sounded like relief. "That's good."

She smiled against his skin and felt him place a kiss under her ear lobe before he stood up straight and looked down at her. His eyes flickered between hers as he held her face gently. They were tired but less troubled, and the apology was now visible through every fleck of green and hazel that surrounded his pupils. He smiled, opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself.

He tucked a stray hair behind her ear before he cupped her small face in his palms. "What do you want?" he said finally.

"What?"

"Your sandwich. What do you want?"

"Oh," she smiled. "Surprise me."

"No problem," he replied. He released her face and reached around her to grab his wallet from the side of the microwave.

"As long as there are no anchovies or green or black olives," she said quickly with a grimace.

Cullen smirked as he pushed his wallet into his jeans, "Gotcha."

"And mayo," she continued as she nibbled on her thumb nail. Cullen raised his eyebrows and Isabella shrugged. "I like mayo."

"Mayo, but no olives or anchovies," he repeated as he slipped on his boots without tying the laces. "I'm sure I can manage that."

He picked up a black beanie from the breakfast bar and patted his pockets for his cell phone. "I'll be back," he promised, and with a wink and a small wave he was out the door.

=PoF=

Isabella had taken a nice hot shower and was pulling her t-shirt back over the top of her head, when she heard the door to Cullen's apartment slam shut. She paused for a moment and listened to the banging of cupboards and the curses of a man who was clearly ruffled.

Cautiously, Isabella wandered back out into the apartment to find Cullen chugging down a can of full sugar coke as though his life depended on it. He finished it in record time and, when he noticed that Isabella was standing there, watching with a wry smile on her face, he tried like hell to keep his epic burp down in his stomach. That shit hurt.

"Thirsty?" Isabella asked as Cullen rubbed his chest where the burning gas threatened to erupt.

"Mmhm," he answered. He noticed that her hair was damp and was hit with the overwhelming urge to smell her. "Nice shower?"

Isabella nodded and smiled. She herself could smell something really good, and her stomach snarled at the thought of sustenance. She was instantly ravenous.

"So what did you get me?" she asked as she walked to his side and prodded the bags that were laid out with the tip of her index finger. Cullen grabbed her wrist gently and smirked.

"Ah, ah, ah, Miss Swan, patience," he taunted.

He turned and handed her two small plates and two knives and pointed her in the direction of the sofa. He followed her and made a huge show of bringing out the mammoth sandwiches that he had bought. And the nachos. _And_ the cheese-filled potato skins and dips.

Isabella's eyes grew wider as more and more food appeared on the table before her. "Jeez, Cullen, how hungry are you?" she laughed.

"Very," he replied quickly with his nose still buried in the food bag. Apparently satisfied that there was no more to be found at the bottom of it, he placed it on the floor and then handed Isabella her plate and sandwich.

"_Bob's Special_," he said reverently as though that explained the contents of her lunch. "Or as I like to call it: an orgasm on bread."

Isabella smiled and shook her head. "I won't take offence at that," she remarked. She saw Cullen smile knowingly in her peripheral.

"I wouldn't worry about _that_ shit, Bella," he murmured as he handed her a knife, "Not at all."

The suggestion in his voice made Isabella's stomach clench and her thighs squeeze together. Cullen noticed her shift in her seat and smiled to himself. He couldn't deny that he loved having such control over her body. It was only fair considering the fuckton of control that she had over his.

"So," Isabella croaked, clearing her head of the lusty vibes that were emanating from the man to her right. "What will I find on a Bob's Special?"

Cullen sat back and unwrapped his own lunch as though he were handling a priceless piece of art. "Any type of meat you can think of," he answered. "Onion, barbeque sauce, cheese, mayo, jalapeños and a little bit of love."

Isabella picked up her knife and copied Cullen as he cut his sandwich into two. She watched as he bit into it, moaning loudly. His eyes rolled into his head and he slumped into his seat with cheeks sticking out like a gerbil.

"Awesome," he mumbled around a mouth full.

Isabella snorted and bit into hers. _Christ Almighty_. He wasn't fucking kidding about the awesome part.

"Right?" he asked with a grin as Isabella's eyes widened in pleasure.

"God, yes," she replied as she wiped mayo from her lips before biting into the sandwich again.

They ate in silence for the majority of the time. Every so often they punctuated the quiet with groans, curses, or moans of adoration for their food. Cullen passed Isabella a can of Sprite and offered her some of his nachos. By the time they had finished, they were bloated, sleepy, and satisfied.

"I don't think I'll ever move again," Isabella complained as she rubbed her distended stomach. "That was amazing. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he answered with a lazy smile. They were seated at opposite ends of the couch, and Cullen let his hand leisurely rub the top of her foot. He looked up at her and leaned his head curiously to the right. "What else don't you like?" he asked.

Isabella frowned in confusion.

"You don't like anchovies and olives," he clarified. "I was just curious, what else don't you like? For future reference and all that."

Isabella looked to the ceiling in contemplation as Cullen lit a cigarette.

"Lemons," she answered after a moment. "I hate any lemon food, lemon cakes, lemon dressing." She grimaced and shivered.

"You just drank Sprite," Cullen pointed out incredulously through a cloud of smoke.

"That's different," Isabella countered with a tone that closed the conversation. Cullen simply shook his head and rolled his eyes. "What do _you_ hate?" she asked.

"Tomatoes," he answered swiftly, "Anchovies, pineapple, any fish except shellfish, and macaroni cheese."

"Macaroni cheese?" Isabella laughed. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

Cullen frowned. "I hate the fucking stuff."

"Okay," Isabella conceded, "_Favourite_ food?"

"Peaches."

Isabella blushed, "Yeah, yeah."

"I'm serious," he offered, "Peaches and Oreos."

He smiled when he heard her laugh. It sounded like Christmas morning and New York summers. He blew smoke down his nose, loving the red as it tinged her cheeks slowly, beautifully, "Favourite movie?"

"Cult or mainstream?"

"Both."

"_The Goonies_ and _Forrest Gump_. You."

"_Beetlejuice_ and _Pulp Fiction_," Cullen replied as he put his smoke in the ashtray, "Favourite album?"

"_Rubbersoul_ and _Revolver _by The Beatles. It's always been one album for me." She gestured for him to answer.

"Same," he smirked, not surprised at her choice. "That and _The White album_, tied."

And so it continued. For two hours Cullen and Isabella sat and shared their favourite colours, artists, cars, TV programmes, and places to visit. They talked about their favourite things about living in the city and shared their dream holiday destinations. They talked more than Isabella imagined they ever had before and, as they shared, she gradually felt the scars on her heart start to heal. He was trying, and that, for her, was more than she could have hoped for.

"This is nice," she said finally as they sat and listened to the opening words of 'Nowhere Man'. She lay back against the arm of the sofa and watched Cullen as he discreetly played the familiar chords on an invisible guitar. He looked up at her and smiled softly.

"I'm glad that you stayed," he said quietly.

"Me too," she answered as she leaned her head heavily against a cushion.

He sighed and picked up her foot. He placed it gently onto his knee and rubbed his palm up and down her instep. "I don't deserve you being here, Bella."

Isabella watched him as he stared at his own hands on her skin. His touch felt sublime.

"While I was out," he sighed. "Rosalie called."

Isabella tensed instantly and swallowed. "Oh."

Cullen pulled off his beanie and ran a hand through his hair as he closed his eyes. "She's not a bad person, Bella. She isn't. It was my fault that she reacted that way with you."

"You, um, you must have said some pretty bad things," Isabella stammered, feeling her arms start to wrap around herself.

"I did," was Cullen's hushed, remorseful reply. He shifted closer to her on the couch, balancing the back of her knees over his thighs. Keeping his eyes firmly on hers, he held out his right hand and waited patiently for her to place her own palm inside of it. He felt instant relief when she did.

"I was angry, Bella. I was so fucking angry, and I just wanted to forget everything." He dropped his gaze from hers and shook his head in disgust at himself. "I got a bottle of Jack and...coke."

From the tone of his voice, Isabella knew that he wasn't talking about the shit that could be found in red aluminium cans. She made to pull her hand away from him, but Cullen held onto her and pleaded with his eyes for her not to move, and to listen.

"Your parole, Cullen," Isabella exclaimed. "Goddammit!"

She gripped at her hair with her free hand and closed her eyes as she dropped the volume of her voice. "You get into a fight and then buy some coke." Her large, brown eyes were filled with sadness and disappointment when they looked back at him. "Are you crazy?"

Cullen simply nodded. "I didn't use it," he affirmed. "Rosalie put it down the toilet and then kicked the shit outta me." He smiled wryly. Isabella stared at him but had no idea what the hell to say to him.

"She was livid with me," he continued. "She was upset, so I tried to explain why I was shitfaced and ready to throw away my parole." He took a deep breath and rubbed his thumb over the back of Isabella's small hand.

"I told her about us. I told her about you seeing Peter before we were...together and that you'd promised not to see him again. I told her that, after you had been with me all night and all day, you'd gone to him."

Cullen paused and pulled his mouth up in a snarl as he remembered his slurred, untrue, and vitriolic words to his friend. "I said that you'd gone to...fuck him. That he wanted to fuck you and you'd do it because you didn't give a shit about me."

Isabella felt her insides flinch at the words he had thrown at her the day before. Cullen noticed and squeezed her hand.

"I know that you wouldn't, Bella. Fuck, I know that, and I'm so sorry, baby." Cullen found that, now that he had apologised to his Bella, he was seemingly incapable of stopping. "I just hurt. I was sick to my stomach that he was with you and I wasn't." His voice became low and angry. "I hated him more than I ever thought possible. And I said that I hated you too."

Isabella was suddenly looking at him through tear filled eyes. "Do you _still_ hate me?"

Cullen's face crumpled at the pain in her voice, and he grabbed her other hand that was fisting at her side. He held them tightly to his lips and kissed each one of her knuckles closing his eyes at the soft velvet of her skin against his mouth.

"I never did to begin with, Bella," he said firmly. "I could never hate you. I just _said_ it. It was cruel and a huge fucking lie, but I said it, and I'm sorry that I did."

He played absentmindedly with her fingers, allowing his hands to explore the veins that ran up her wrists to the creases of her elbows. "I know now. I understand why you went." He shrugged and continued. "I still want to tie a tonne weight to Whitlock's balls and throw his lying fucking ass into the Hudson, but I understand why you did it."

Isabella couldn't help the small cough of laughter that escaped her, and immediately felt Cullen's warm hands around her face. She held onto his forearms as he pulled her gradually onto his lap, and cradled her protectively to his chest.

"Rosalie was just looking out for me the way she always has done," he explained as he stroked her back, "The way that we have for each other out entire friendship. I'm sorry that she did it, but please don't hold it against her." Cullen pressed a soft kiss against Isabella's forehead.

"I'll try," Isabella offered with a slight frown. "But did you tell her the truth?" She snuggled closer to him. She fingered the neckline of his t-shirt. "Did you tell her that what you had said was a lie, that I would never, ever do that to you?"

"Yes," he replied. "I told her everything and I asked her the same thing. I told her that she needs to apologise. I _want_ you to get along. You're both important to me. She nearly choked on her coffee when I told her that my ass apologised to you." He smiled against her hair. "But she can be...difficult. She holds a grudge like no-one I know. But I'll sort this, Bella. I promise. It's my own stupid fault and I'll deal with it."

"Okay. Good," Isabella whispered, but Cullen still wasn't convinced.

He'd behaved like a fucking idiot and hurt the one person that he truly, truly cared for. He had to convince her that he _was_ sorry and that he was prepared to live up to the promises that he had made as they had laid in bed together.

However, he was at a loss.

He'd never needed or wanted to ask for complete forgiveness from anyone in his entire life - let alone a woman - and he had no idea how the fuck he was going to do it. He wanted to do something to show her that he was sorry, that he cared, and that he wasn't the fuck up that he imagined she thought he was after his shameful display.

The following afternoon while he was working out in the gym with Alec, Cullen was still stumped. Bella, after watching some TV and eating some more, had stayed at his apartment until around seven the previous evening, and then…she had left. Their departing kiss had been...nice, but Cullen could still feel her wariness; her caution, and it ripped at his heart. He knew that he had no-one to blame but himself (and maybe his dickhead cousin), but Bella's distance still unnerved the shit out of him. He needed to do something that would convince her that he was serious and that his word was true.

He pushed the huge fucking weight upwards, locking his elbows, and groaned loudly as Alec counted number ten.

"Five more, sunshine," Alec smirked as he spot him.

"You're an asshole," Cullen whined as the weight came to rest on his chest before he pushed it up again.

"Yeah," Alec answered with a nonchalant shrug. "So my wife keeps telling me."

"I'm amazed she's still married to you," Cullen grumbled as he felt the sweat run down the side of his jaw and around to the back of his neck where it had begun to pool, soaking his hair. "Woman must be a saint," he gasped, "Or fucking insane."

Alec smiled down at him. "I would say the first, _she_ would agree with the latter."

Cullen pushed number fifteen home and let his arms flop forcefully to his sides as Alec rested the weight on the metal hold. "Well done," he praised while Cullen sat up with a heavy sigh and grabbed for his water bottle.

Alec began to make his usual notes about Cullen's performance and attitude. He had to admit, he had been a little morose, and, although his smart mouth was still present and correct, Cullen's overall demeanour seemed duller. He'd lost the brightness that had been noticeable over the past few weeks, and Alec was concerned.

He was meant to note any changes of behaviour in the prisoners that he trained, but he was loath to write anything about Cullen. He didn't want the poor bastard to get the third degree from his parole officer just because he'd been caught having a bad day. Fucker was only human after all.

He cleared his throat and kept his eyes fixed on the paper that he was writing on, "Everything okay?"

Cullen frowned up at his trainer and wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm. He shrugged, "Yeah. Why?"

"No reason," Alec replied. "You just seem to be missing that cocky spring in your step that I love so damned much."

Cullen snorted at the sarcastic tenor in Alec's voice, and bent down to pick up his t-shirt. He couldn't berate Alec for noticing that shit. Fact was that he _was_ feeling more than a little down; confused, frustrated. Even Jake had commented earlier that day, and he was the fucker to know with the shit that _he_ had been through.

Cullen's eyes darted back to Alec before going back to the floor. He was suddenly very aware of himself and the hole that he was desperate to get out of. He rubbed the t-shirt across his chest and then across his face.

"So, um," he shifted on his feet. "How long have you been married?"

Alec looked up at him with surprised eyes. He paused for a moment, waiting for the punch line, but was left wanting.

"Ten years," he answered; going up at the end so that it sounded like a question.

Cullen nodded and suddenly became fascinated with his sneakers. "You guys must have arguments, right? I mean, you are an asshole as previously discussed. You must drive her crazy."

The right side of Alec's mouth lifted and he nodded. "Sometimes, but that's what marriage is about: driving each other fucking crazy."

Cullen smiled and threw his t-shirt over his shoulder. He cracked his knuckles and hummed in thought. "Do you ever…you know, like…apologise?"

Alec narrowed his eyes playfully as, due to Cullen's fidgeting, the direction of the conversation suddenly became very clear to him.

"Edward Masen Cullen," he exclaimed. "Ladies Man Extraordinaire, are you asking _me_ for relationship advice?"

Cullen's head snapped up and his eyes narrowed in kind. Unlike Alec's, however, there was no playfulness to be seen. Anywhere.

"No," he spat venomously as he gripped his t-shirt in his tight fists. "I was just making conversation. There's no fucking law against that is there?" He spun on his heel and stormed across the gym feeling embarrassed and angry. "And the name's _Cullen_, fuckwit."

Alec set off after him, cursing himself under his breath. "Hey, Cullen, man. I was just playin'. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." Following him into the changing rooms, he watched as Cullen began to throw his shit ferociously into his gym bag. "You just took me by surprise."

Cullen ignored him and flipped him the finger.

"Oh, come on, Cullen. Try me again. I'll tell you anything you wanna know," Alec promised as he leaned against the lockers with his arms over his chest.

Cullen paused for a split second before he continued pushing his stuff into his bag, but the ferocity had waned. What if Alec could _really_ help him? What if he knew how he could get Bella to truly forgive him? The asshole had been married ten years; he'd surely know what worked with women and what didn't. Cullen knew women, but only in the Biblical sense or the I-can-make-you-cum-harder-than-you-ever-thought-possible-way.

He stood upright with his hands placed firmly on his hips. He kept his eyes away from Alec's and took a deep breath.

"Fuck, I…" He sighed in frustration and bit his bottom lip. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. "This woman that I...we…" he trailed off but saw Alec nod in his periphery. He understood. "Man, I was a complete asshole." He exhaled noisily and pushed both hands through his sweaty hair. "She did something, and I overreacted like a fucking animal; said some shit that was...well, it was fucking terrible if you want the truth, and I didn't mean it. I've done nothing but make her feel like shit and accuse her of stuff that I know she didn't or wouldn't fucking do, and yet, she still…Jesus, Alec, she _cares_ about me."

He dropped his arms lifelessly to his sides, defeated. He turned and dropped his ass down onto the wooden bench seat. He banged his head back against the tiled wall and closed his eyes.

"I just want to do something that shows her that I'm not a complete tool; that I care too, and that says I'm really fucking sorry." He slapped his palms to his bare legs. "But, I have no fucking idea, dude, I swear."

Alec looked at the young man before him and felt a large pang of protective sympathy for him. Slowly, he made his way to the bench and sat down. He was in un-chartered territory here. Never had he spoken to Cullen or any other inmate, former of otherwise, like this before or shared such an intimate conversation, but Alec felt compelled to help him.

Once seated, he crossed his arms over his chest and his legs at the ankles. "I forgot my tenth wedding anniversary back in May," he confessed.

Cullen opened his eyes and looked at him askance. Alec nodded at his silent question.

"My wife, she's fucking fiery," Alec continued. "It's what I love most about her, the fact that she keeps my ass in check." He looked back at Cullen. "I walked into the house expecting the third degree, shit thrown at my head and all. But, when I got home, she just ignored me; didn't say a fucking word to me. She ignored me in bed, while we ate, didn't answer my texts...fuck, it drove me insane. I wanted the screaming and shouting, ya know, _anything _but the silence."

Cullen watched as a small smile appeared on Alec's face as though he was remembering something more. "What did you do?" he asked. "How did you get her to talk?"

"The standard," Alec answered with the corners of his mouth upturned. "I begged forgiveness, bought flowers, made dinner, offered her massages, and was a complete fucking suck-up for ten days straight." He laughed lightly. "I think in the end I just ground her down. She was sick of me behaving like a fucking loser the entire time."

"More than usual?" Cullen retorted quickly with a smirk.

"Yeah," Alec smiled back. "The point is, Cullen, women like it when you pay attention, when you do things that are...different, that no other man would think to do."

Cullen scowled. "But I can't do the whole candles, dinner, and flowers shit. It's just...not me, and it's not her either."

"Then do something that _is_ you," Alec replied. "Take her somewhere that's special to you. Somewhere that shows that you're serious about her and that you're _seriously_ sorry."

Cullen paused and thought about what and where that could be. "Like where?" he asked eventually when he had drawn a big, fat blank.

Alec shrugged and exhaled in exasperation. "I don't fucking know, man, a place that you used to go as a kid or a place that has special memories for you. Take a walk somewhere romantic and buy her an ice cream, whatever, but don't go over the top. Women aren't usually impressed by grand gestures."

"Really?"

"Really," Alec fired back with wide, disbelieving eyes. "My wife told me that it makes a woman suspicious."

Cullen closed his eyes briefly and shook his head in bewilderment, "Fucking women."

"I know, right," Alec snorted. He clapped Cullen on the shoulder and stood up. "Think about what I said. It'll come to you, and if it's something that's unique or important to you, she's bound to like that shit too. It's about the thought that goes into the gesture, not the gesture itself. Keep it simple...ya know, like, intimate."

Cullen nodded slowly and licked his lips. "Yeah," he murmured with a hint of relief as an idea slid slowly into place. "I think I know just what to do." He looked up at Alec and nodded his appreciation. "Thanks, man."

Alec smiled and turned towards the door. "No problem."

=PoF=

Isabella tapped her Mont Blanc pen nervously against the papers in front of her, and waited for her name to be called by the scary, spectacled man who was sitting behind a large desk, looking all sorts of stern. The room in which she was sitting was as she remembered from Cullen's parole hearing, and it had the exact same affect on her: her palms were sweating, and she continually licked her lips to rid them of the dryness that had overtaken every inch of her mouth.

Why the hell _she_ was so nervous, was not clear. It wasn't like it was _her_ parole hearing for God's sake!

No. That honour belonged to one Emmett McCarty, who was currently standing about twenty feet to Isabella's left, looking as anxious as she felt. It was unnerving for Isabella to see such a large, domineering guy look so lost and worried.

His eyes were shifting around the room with his hands clasped at his front, twisting in on themselves repeatedly. Isabella felt an overwhelming need to stand by his side and maybe hold his hand, but she knew that she couldn't. Her fraternisation with one of her students was already miles beyond the line of acceptable student/teacher relationships; hugging Emmett in front of Mike Newton and the parole board, even though he looked desperate for some kind of reassurance, wouldn't be the smartest move.

The stern man spoke quickly to Emmett, reading out his crimes like a shopping list. It was no secret that Emmett had an almost unhealthy obsession with metal, grease, and machines, but Isabella was still surprised at the time it took to read. Isabella remembered fondly Cullen telling her, while helping her in the kitchen, about their shared love of speed and how it had created a long lasting friendship.

She wondered for one brief moment about what Cullen was doing at that moment…

Their Sunday had been relaxing and pleasant, and certainly less stressful than the day before it. Isabella had enjoyed sharing things with Cullen about herself and learning new things about him (who would have thought that he was an American Idol fan?). He was sweet and he apologised profusely while kissing her skin and holding her close, but, no matter how close he got, Isabella still felt miles away from him.

As much as Isabella's heart had love for Cullen, it also held hurt and disappointment. They had promised each other that they would talk more and take things gradually, which was exactly what Isabella wanted. Not that she had voiced her fears, but Isabella could only hope that their new found communication was enough to hold them together. She knew that he meant it when he said that he was sorry, and that it was a massive step for him, but Isabella couldn't help but wonder how long his remorsefulness and calm would last.

"Miss Swan?"

Isabella blinked as she heard her name in a way that suggested it had been called more than once. "Yes, yes, sir," she stammered as she sat up straighter in her seat.

"You have been tutoring Mr McCarty for five months now and have offered to give a character reference today. Can you tell us about his conduct, attitude, and overall work ethic in the classroom?"

"Of course," she replied and stood up.

She glanced quickly at Emmett, smiling softly, before she told the board about how much of a hard worker he had been, and about his willingness to learn. Although dyslexic, Emmett had shown astounding commitment and independence in his work, reaching a level that had initially been deemed too high for someone of his ability. Isabella could not say enough for her favourite student who she could sense was smiling and humming with gratitude as she continued. He was, as Isabella told the board, a credit to the class and the facility as a whole.

She sat back down and threw a discreet wink in Emmett's direction as the board conversed in mumbled hums and whispers. He smiled back and mouthed a 'thank you.' Isabella could only pray that she had done enough to help his appeal.

Within five minutes, and with a huge sigh of relief from Isabella, Garrett, and the prisoner himself, Emmett McCarty was granted parole, and was told that he could leave the walls of Arthur Kill two days later.

Unable to speak to him as he was pulled into a room with his lawyer, Isabella promised herself to give Emmett a huge congratulatory hug when he was free.

=PoF=

Cullen was sitting, waiting patiently, in the reading room of the library, and making his way through his third fun size packet of Oreos, when Isabella arrived that afternoon. She eyed him in utter shock as he smiled casually back at her.

"What?" he asked with a smug grin.

"You're early," Isabella retorted, as she looked around the room in astonishment, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out and _'Punk'_ her ass.

Cullen laughed lightly and licked his fingers of Oreo crumbs. "I know," he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

Isabella narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "Why?"

Cullen snorted. "What do you mean, why? Can't a guy be early for his favourite Literature session with his favourite tutor?"

Isabella's lips twitched unable to fight the smile that was building. "I'm your _only_ Literature tutor, Cullen."

"All the more reason for me to be on time," he countered with a small wink.

He looked so pleased with himself and very beautiful in his white v-neck t-shirt and black plaid shirt. He had his novel out in front of him, with a set of pens and paper. He looked the quintessential eager student.

"Shall we get started?" he asked softly as he gestured to the chair on Isabella's side.

She smiled and dropped her eyes to the table. "Sure," she replied.

Isabella placed all of her resources onto the desk and motioned for Cullen to begin reading. They were onto the last couple of chapters of _'A Farewell to Arms'_ and she couldn't help but fall into an almost hypnotic state as his voice rumbled softly over Hemingway's words. Her eyes darted to his mouth repeatedly, thinking about the texture of them and the way that they made her feel when he used them on different parts of her body. She crossed her legs under the desk and chastised herself silently.

Ridiculous, she thought. It was ridiculous to think that she could ever be around Cullen and not fall under the lust and electric passion that pulsed between them. He was extraordinarily sexy when he was relaxed, as he was while he read, and Isabella couldn't help but watch as his right hand played idly with his hair, making it stand in a hundred different directions.

_"It seems she had one hemorrhage after another. They couldn't stop it. I went into the room and stayed with Catherine until she died. She was unconscious all the time, and it did not take her very long to die."_

Cullen read quietly. His voice took on a soft, regretful timbre that made Isabella's lungs squeeze and tears prick at her eyes. He sighed and licked his lips thoughtfully as he continued.

_"But after I got them to leave and shut the door and turned off the light it wasn't any good. It was like saying good-by to a statue. After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain."_

As the closing words of Hemingway's novel settled between them, a small tear landed gently on Isabella's hand. Cullen lifted his eyes to hers and smiled with one side of his mouth.

"You okay?" he asked. He moved his hand slowly across the mahogany of the table and placed it over hers. He squeezed it reassuringly.

"Yeah," Isabella replied with an apologetic expression. "Hemingway always gets to me." She wiped at her eyes and sniffed. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Cullen stated with a shake of his head. "I hate to see you cry, but I like that you're so passionate about it." He squeezed her hand again. "You sure you're okay?"

Isabella was struck by the concern on his face and the sincerity in his voice. "I'm sure."

"Good." He moved his hand away, remembering their rule about no touching in the library, and sat back in his seat. "So, Miss Swan, what's on the agenda for today?"

Isabella smirked and held up the revision sheets for his assignment. "Exam time," she said with a small laugh as Cullen's eyes rolled so quickly they almost dropped from their sockets.

For the next ninety minutes, Cullen and Isabella reviewed the exam question and set an assignment plan. Isabella was more than a little impressed with Cullen's input and his concentration on the work before him until she mentioned that he would take it during that Friday's session. He looked momentarily conflicted about something, but Isabella didn't ask. She didn't want to upset the calm, mature atmosphere that had settled comfortably around them.

"Bella," he said finally as she packed her bag. She looked up at him and smiled. "Do you…what, um…I was wondering…shit, I…"

He stood looking utterly out of his comfort zone. Fuck, he looked like his comfort zone had hightailed its ass all the way to Texas. Isabella paused before taking a step towards him. He rubbed aggressively at his face and tugged at the hem of his shirt.

"Cullen," Isabella murmured. "Are you alright? What is it?"

He groaned and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm…fuck, I'm shit at this okay…just, give me a minute, yeah?"

Isabella nodded with a frown, and made to move back from him but his hand on her waist stopped her. His palm burned through her skirt and permeated her skin in such a way that only she knew he could. Her breath hitched and her hand gripped his forearm to keep herself steady.

"Cullen?" she breathed.

He closed his eyes with his chin near to his chest and spoke in one long breath.

"Do you have plans for this weekend? Because if you don't I'd like to take you somewhere. If you don't want to I understand, but I'd really like you to come with me…I want to…I want to spend some time with you, away from all the bullshit and just have us, ya know. I mean, I don't know…fuck, I…"

He shook his head and muttered a number of colorful curses before he released her waist and shoved his hands into his pockets. Isabella stood, not knowing what to say. He was asking her to go away with him, just the two of them, and her heart pounded hard in her chest at the mere thought.

"Just us?" she asked quietly. Cullen's eyes shot to hers, shock lacing every inch of his stunningly green irises. He nodded.

"Where?"

He smiled timidly. "I'd like to keep it a surprise, but I can give you directions." He shifted nervously. Isabella couldn't help but notice how young he looked. Young and…_so_ fucking perfect.

"I'd love to," she whispered. She was suddenly scared to speak too loudly in case the bubble that encased them was abruptly burst by any loud noise. She reached a hand out and cupped his stubbled cheek. "I'd love to," she repeated.

Cullen blinked down at her in surprise. "Really?" he asked. "You mean you'd like to come with me?"

Isabella laughed lightly. "I said so, didn't I?"

Cullen laughed too. "Yeah, I guess you did." He glanced up at the reading room doorway quickly to check that they were definitely alone before he took a step towards her. He placed his hands on her waist and tilted his head to the right. "I know it's against session rules but, I really wanna kiss you right now."

Isabella instinctively licked her lips. "I want you to kiss me too."

"Just a small one," Cullen whispered as his index finger snuck under the edge of her blouse, skimming the soft skin of her stomach, "Just a small taste."

Isabella moaned deep in her throat as he repeated the words that he had spoken the first time that he had ever kissed her. As soon as their lips met, they both felt their bodies relax. Cullen could only liken it to the artificial high that came with doing the drugs that he would take when he was younger. There was nothing artificial about the feelings that he got when he kissed his Bella, however. Dammit, every inch of him, inside and out, came alive. She grasped his shirt at the chest and pulled him closer.

He let his tongue brush the tip of hers, but pulled away when he felt his cock twitch against the button fly of his jeans. He'd have taken her right there on the fucking library table if he thought that she'd let him. He kissed her one last time and exhaled as his heart pounded furiously behind his ribs. "Christ, Bella. The things you do to me."

Isabella smiled sleepily at him, lost in her own bliss as the warmth of his mouth against hers soaked into every part of her. It was more heated than the kiss that they had shared at his apartment door the night before, and Isabella at once became confident that they would overcome the events of the past weekend and find one another again. Going away with him for the weekend, no matter where they went or what they did was a good place to start, and Isabella couldn't deny the shiver of anticipation that ran up her spine as he wrote down the zip code for her car's GPS.

He'd obviously thought a lot about it, giving her vague directions, and explaining that she would have to leave from work on Friday afternoon. Apparently, he wanted as much time alone with her as was possible.

As touched and excited as she was, Isabella frowned. "What about your exam?" She asked. "You have to take it on Friday."

"And I will," he explained. "We'll have our session as normal, just not here."

She paused and looked down at the paper in her hand that held the zip code.

"Is that okay?" he asked softly, dipping his chin to catch her eye.

"Yeah," she answered. "I just don't want you to miss doing this." Her voice became slightly panicked and firm. "It's important that I show Charlotte some progression in your studies. It's important for your parole. _She _said that, and I-…"

Cullen cut her off with a gentle finger pressed against her mouth. "It's alright, Bella," he smiled. "I promise that I'll do the exam on Friday." He dropped his hand to hers and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. "You have my word."

Isabella could tell from the shine in his eyes and the sincerity of his tone that he meant it.

By the time Friday arrived, Isabella genuinely expected her body to burst into flames of anxious anticipation. She was a complete mess. She was nervous, excited, and tense about the next few days, and, every time that Cullen had touched her since he had asked her to go away with him - be it his hand placed securely at the small of her back or a brief gentle kiss - he had simply added to the heightened emotion that she was already experiencing, and, like a damned volcano, she was waiting for the inevitable eruption.

The week had been an emotional rollercoaster of epic proportions. Emmett had vacated Arthur Kill on Wednesday morning amid a flurry of hugs and fist bumps with the facility staff, and, subsequently, Isabella had found it strange to teach a class that he no longer attended. The room seemed bigger and quieter in his absence, but the new inmate that she was now tutoring: Dean had kept her and Angela thoroughly entertained.

Unlike Emmett, who tried hard and focused well, Dean detested his dyslexia and the limits that it put on his learning, getting irritated quickly even with Angela and Isabella's support. Needless to say, the guy had a temper and a half, with a fist shaped hole in the classroom wall being clear testament to that. Isabella couldn't help but think about another ex-inmate who liked to lash out and throw things while he was in her class, and used that very example when Cullen became pissy and overly protective when she told him about Dean.

"He threw a punch at the wall in frustration. You _threw_ a table because I stood up to you," she had smiled with a shake of her head. "You were _a lot_ worse."

"Whatever," he had mumbled. "Just keep an eye on the fucker."

Cullen had told Isabella to pack warm clothes for their weekend away which, considering that it was colder than a witch's tit in New York in November, was practically a given. She'd packed three times in total on Thursday night while a seriously unhelpful Leah threw clothes excitedly from Isabella's closet all over the room, in order to find the 'perfect outfit'. In the end, Isabella had to ask her to leave before murder was committed. Leah had giggled like a damned schoolgirl and hugged her tight.

"Be good," she had muttered coyly as she walked out of the apartment. "And don't forget to shave!"

Isabella left Arthur Kill that Friday afternoon with a small suitcase in the trunk and a flutter in her heart, and set off to wherever it was that Cullen was meeting her. "I'll be there waiting," he had told her. "I can't wait to have you all to myself."

The drive was easy enough and took a little over ninety minutes. Isabella figured fairly quickly that she was going in the direction of the coast, specifically towards the Hamptons which confused her to say the very least. Westhampton Dunes was an extremely affluent area, and, the closer Isabella got to the address that she had been given, the bigger the houses appeared.

The sky was a stunning pink and orange above a rough grey sea, and the sand dunes rolled for miles. Even though it was cold, Isabella wound down her window and let the fresh ocean air blast into the car. It smelled wonderful, and she was immediately reminded of the bike rides that she used to have with her father along the sands at La Push in Forks. She missed the beach. She didn't seem to have time to enjoy it anymore.

Turning a long corner, Isabella was suddenly faced with an endless stretch of sand upon which stood a beautiful, two storey white house with a dark blue roof. The house was exquisite; made up of white paneling with a wraparound porch and balconies on the top levels. It reminded Isabella of the large family homes that she had seen in the South as a child with Nana Boo.

Coming to a stop, while checking with her GPS that she was in the right place, Isabella killed the engine and gradually opened the car door. The air swept around her as she stood staring at the house, whipping her loose hair around her face and pounding her skin with sand.

She was so busy gazing at the picture perfect scene before her; wanting nothing more than to go running into the freezing cold ocean that she hadn't noticed Cullen emerging cautiously from the side door of the house.

He wandered along the porch towards her, watching her face as she stared, seemingly, into outer space. She looked mesmerized and speechless, and Cullen prayed that it was because she was pleased. Shit, but he was nervous. He'd never done anything like this before, and he wanted the weekend to be fucking perfect, a chance to reconnect with his girl, but he knew that his luck was never that forgiving.

He had planned everything as best as he could, but allowed Alec's words to guide him: _'No grand gestures. Intimate.'_ He was determined to do his best. He was determined to show his Bella that he was sorry and that he wanted nothing more than to be with her and to make her happy.

With a large breath, he jogged over to her and felt his chest become warm when she looked at him and smiled. She was beautiful.

"You made it."

"Yeah," she replied while tucking her hair behind her ears.

Cullen shuffled from foot to foot and pushed his hands into his pockets as the overwhelming need to take her into his arms threatened to burst from his chest. "So, what do you think?" he asked with a chin tilt towards the house.

Bella remained silent, causing Cullen to break out into a small sweat that lasted until a minute smile passed over her mouth. "It's wonderful," she answered finally. "It's so long since I've been to the beach."

"I figured," Cullen said with a small grin. He scratched his chin and cleared his throat. "I remembered you talking about the beach…ya know, about your Dad, how you hadn't been for a really long time, and I thought that you'd like it."

Cullen was nearly knocked off of his feet when Bella launched herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, and kissing his lips with all the gratitude that she could muster. Cullen wound his arms around her and held her closely as they kissed passionately; breathing every inch of her in, and feeling his entire body ignite under her touch.

Moaning, and hard as fuck, he staggered sideways, only stopping when his hip hit her Mini Cooper. He grunted into her mouth as their tongues got reacquainted and turned in a half circle so that he could press her small body against the car.

Her hands were on his face, gripping and caressing, and Cullen couldn't help but rub up against her like a damn cat. As his hips rotated into hers, she gasped and wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs, wanting him closer. Cullen obliged by grabbing her ass. He pulled his lips from her mouth and attacked her throat and neck with open mouthed kisses and flicks of his tongue. He'd missed having her so close to him, so responsive, and,_ fuck_, she always tasted so fucking good. He licked and nibbled until Bella was panting and whimpering his name.

"We have to stop," she breathed as she clutched his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers. Her body betrayed the words that came from her mouth and Cullen couldn't help but feel a tiny bit fucking smug.

"Why?" he asked with a cocky raise of his right eyebrow. "There's no-one for a few miles. If I wanted to fuck you right here…" He shifted his hips and smiled when she moaned. "I could."

He felt her lips curve up against his cheek before she placed a soft kiss right in the centre of it. "Thank you," she whispered.

Cullen leaned his head back so that he could look at her. She looked fucking sensational with her swollen lips and windblown hair. "What for?" he asked.

"For inviting me here," she replied, "For knowing that I would love it."

Cullen couldn't hold back the smirk that began to overwhelm his face. "You…love it?"

Bella nodded and looked back up at the house. "It's so pretty."

"You wanna see inside?" he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice.

Bella laughed lightly at his eagerness and nodded. With a quick kiss to her lips, Cullen held onto her as her feet once again found the ground. He waited for her to grab her suitcase out of the trunk, and was rendered momentarily speechless when he saw a bag that would have easily held the clothes for a family of eight on a two week trip to Florida.

"The fuck, Bella?" he asked with a smirk.

"Shut up," was her genius and slightly embarrassed response.

Cullen carried the huge and ridiculously heavy bag, and led her along the porch and through the front door. He placed her suitcase on the floor as soon as they entered and gestured with his hand for her to walk further into the house. Above anything else, he wanted her to feel welcome and comfortable.

Bella smiled timidly, and took tentative steps along the hallway, glancing at the beech wood stairs that led to the second level. She was quiet as she removed her coat and held it to her chest. She made her way into the living room, with Cullen following silently behind her, and walked around, standing by the window that looked out onto the ocean and the sand banks that were covered in long, yellowing grass.

Cullen inhaled through his nose and wrapped his arms around himself as he watched her from his spot in the doorway. He couldn't help but think how perfect she looked standing in his house. He'd thought the same when he first saw her in his apartment in the city, but this was different somehow. His present (and hopefully future) were merging with his past, and, as nervous as he had been initially, he felt oddly at ease. Relieved.

He smiled as she glanced at the eclectic artwork on the walls, knowing from her own art collection that she appreciated the water colors, but he felt his chest tighten with panic when she stopped dead at a selection of black and white photographs that littered the wall above the roaring fireplace.

"This is you," she murmured as she pointed to a picture of a young boy in shorts building a huge sandcastle.

"Yeah," he answered as he moved to stand next to her. "It is. I was seven."

He held his breath as she let her fingertips glide over his image. "You're so…happy. Who took it?"

"My grandmother," he replied. "This was her house. She left it to me in her will." He looked around himself. "It was kind of our place." He looked down at her and gave her a one shouldered shrug. "We came here a lot. Just the two of us."

"It holds happy memories for you?" Bella asked as her large brown eyes seared into his.

"Yeah, the few that I have from my childhood belong here." He looked back at the picture and swallowed down the nerves that were left. "I wanted to share it with you."

He felt rather than saw her move and felt his hand burn when her palm slid into it. "I'm glad that you did," she said and placed a soft kiss on his shoulder.

He leaned over and kissed the top of her hair, reveling in the unmistakable smell of peach and the outdoors. "Come on," he whispered. "I'll get you a drink. Food for dinner is all ready for cooking. You like shellfish, right?"

Bella nodded as a flash of surprise crossed her face. Cullen cupped her cheek and leaned close to her mouth.

"Good," he breathed, "But now, Miss Swan." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively when she licked her lips. "We have a session to get to."

True to his word, Cullen completed the assignment that Bella had set while seated at the kitchen table with a bowl of pretzels and a glass of juice. She was silent the entire time, making notes in a very official looking book, but Cullen couldn't help but notice the feel of her eyes as they travelled over him while he worked. He liked it. He always had. He liked her being so close to him as well as enjoying the fact that his body was so aware of her.

Dammit, his cock acted like a freaking divining rod around her. However, the weekend wasn't just about sex or fucking, although there would be time of plenty for both. No. The next few days were all about truth, honesty, stepping up, and being a fucking adult. Now that his armor was all but wrecked by her, he had to show her everything that lay underneath. It was daunting and scary as fuck, but he would do it for her. He had to. He couldn't lose her.

"Done," he said as he dropped his pen onto the table, cracked his sore knuckles, and stretched his arms above his head. He smirked. Yeah, Bella's eyes were most definitely captivated by his stomach. Her desire for him was sexy as hell.

"Good," she uttered while sliding the papers towards herself. "How did you find it?"

Cullen shrugged. "It was alright." He watched her as she paper clipped his work and placed it in a small folder. The concentration on her face was adorable. She made a few more notes, placed everything into her bag, and sighed as her forearms rested onto the table.

"Session over?" he asked.

"Session over," Bella repeated with a smile.

"Fucking great because I'm starving here!" Cullen slapped his palms onto the table and scooted his chair back as Bella laughed. "Okay," he continued with his back to her and his head stuffed inside of the fridge. "You go upstairs. Get changed into something really fucking warm so you don't get hypothermia or some shit, and I'll make a start on dinner."

Strangely, she neither argued nor questioned him and responded with a simple: 'Okay.' He watched as she stood and pulled her bag onto her shoulder. "Third door on the right," he said. "I put your suitcase at the end of the bed."

"Thank you," she whispered before she disappeared up the stairs.

Cullen had made sure that the fridge was stocked well with food, and, of course, alcohol. He was holding two bottles of Corona, with two wedges of lime in the necks, in one hand, and a stick that he used to prod the fire that he had built in the grill on the back porch of the house in the other, when Bella appeared looking like a freaking Eskimo. Honestly, she was barely recognizable under all the layers that she had on, and Cullen felt a brief pang of annoyance that he couldn't see her lush curves properly.

He snorted and flicked the small bobble that was in the middle of the pink woolen hat that she wore. "Cute," he said as he handed her, her beer. "Now I know why that fucking case weighed a freaking ton."

She punched his arm good-humoredly and rolled her eyes. "I don't like being cold," she smirked.

"Oh, really?" Cullen teased as he sidled up to her and wound an arm around her waist. "Well, don't worry about that, _Peaches_. I'll keep you nice and warm."

"I'm sure you will," she retorted around the rim of her bottle.

"Yep," Cullen murmured as he nuzzled her jaw, "Nice and warm…or hot and sweaty. You just let me know which you'd prefer."

"I will," she said back coyly. She ran her palm up his chest and curled her fingers around his neck sending shivers of want down Cullen's spine. "Right after you feed me."

He laughed and nodded, and placed a soft kiss at the corner of her mouth, "Touché."

Isabella watched from her seat on the porch, wrapped in a large wool blanket, snuggled and warm, as Cullen started cooking their dinner. The smell of shellfish encircled her in the fresh wind; mixing with the smell of the sea and Cullen's cigarette smoke. As well as looking unbelievably sexy in a large, cream knitted sweater and dark jeans, Isabella couldn't believe how calm he looked. He looked like he belonged, settled, and free, as though the weight that he carried around with him in the city had been swept away by the waves that crashed against the shore not one hundred yards away.

"So tell me about your summers here," she said as she sipped from her second bottle of Corona.

Cullen turned to her with a confused look on his face. "Really?" he asked as he picked up his own beer.

Isabella smiled back at him, "Really."

Cullen scratched the back of his head and leaned against the side of the porch rail. "Well, my mom, as you know, wanted little to do with me, as did the rest of the Masen family, so my grandmother brought me here to get away."

Isabella felt her heart break for the beautiful, smiling little boy that she had seen in the copious amount of photographs that adorned the walls of the beach house.

"My grandfather had it built for my grandmother when _my_ mother was born, but Gran was the only one who came here. She brought me here…the day that…the day I hit Peter." Isabella's back straightened at the sound of his cousin's name.

"We had a lot of fun. We would go swimming, she taught me to cook on the grill. We'd play games. She'd take me for ice cream and read to me at night." His face took on a faraway expression as he looked out into the darkness of the beach. "We helped each other forget what waited for us when we went back to the city." He looked back at Isabella and smiled gently. "I had a good time."

Isabella kept her eyes on his exquisite face. "You look…"

Cullen smiled and finished his drink. "What?"

"You look peaceful here; smaller, like, you don't have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Cullen lifted an eyebrow and laughed with a short breath down his nose. "That's pretty much how I feel when I come here. There's something about the coast, ya know? It makes me feel…different."

"_Better_ different?" Isabella asked.

"Yeah," he replied with a small smirk, "Better different." He looked down at her and his eyes became soft and gentle. "I'm so glad that you're here, Bella."

Isabella felt her heart stutter hard behind her ribs. _I love you._ "Me too," she answered.

The food that Cullen had cooked was incredible. Isabella couldn't help but tell him repeatedly about how good it was, and, in return, Cullen couldn't help but make salacious comments about how he'd heard those kinds of words from her before. _In the bedroom._

Isabella had been convinced that playful Cullen would be difficult to adjust to. She was so used to brooding, serious, cursing, huffy Cullen - and she loved him dearly – but the thought of him behaving in any other way just seemed strange. Isabella realized quickly that, in this case, she loved being wrong.

After they had washed up their dishes, during which Cullen had let his hands rub all over Isabella's ass, he made sure that she was bundled up before leading her down the porch and onto the beach. It was dark, but small twinkling lights that were placed on either side of the walkway, and Cullen's flash light, showed the way.

While Isabella placed the beer and the bag that he had given her to carry to the side, and took a seat on the cool sand, Cullen went about lighting the pit filled with drift wood and logs that he had collected earlier that day with a can of lighter fluid and a match. Isabella doubled over laughing when she saw his ecstatic expression once he got the damn thing ablaze.

"Me. Man. Build fire for woman," he boomed as he pounded his chest with his fists and gestured to the pit.

Isabella couldn't help but giggle more and call him an utter loser, which encouraged Cullen to suddenly and mercilessly attack her ribs with his long, nimble fingers. He growled into the neck of her skin as he tickled her, and he laughed when she tried to tickle him back in a way that Isabella had never heard before. It was loud; almost a guffaw, and came from deep inside of him. It was the truest laugh that she had ever heard, and she couldn't help but wrap her arms around his waist at the sound.

It was wonderful.

Cullen slowed his attacks and kissed her jaw softly, breathing heavily. He smiled into her hair when he felt her wrap her arms and the blanket around him, keeping him pressed close against her warm body.

"Are you okay?" he asked as she snuggled against him.

"Yeah," she murmured. She kissed his throat and sighed. "It's just good to hear you laugh."

Cullen paused at her words, realizing that he had in fact been laughing quite loudly and that his whole body felt looser because of it. It had been a long time since his chest had hurt through laughter, and he had to admit, it felt fucking excellent. He shuffled himself so that his back was against a conveniently placed rock, and pulled Bella between his legs, keeping the blanket around them both.

"You're warm enough?" he asked as he pulled two beers and a packet of marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate from the bag.

"Yeah, I'm great." She looked wide-eyed at the bag of _Fluffs_ in his hand. "You brought marshmallows?" she exclaimed.

Cullen deadpanned: "Um, we have an open flame going on here, baby. Of course I brought fucking marshmallows. We have to eat s'mores on the beach," he scoffed. "It's the law."

Isabella laughed into her beer bottle.

She watched as Cullen heated the marshmallows before smearing them onto the chocolate and crackers. "Fucking awesome," he muttered. He knocked his s'more against Isabella's. "Cheers."

They ate at least three each before Isabella called mercy and slumped against Cullen's chest wrapped in a bubble of warmth and happiness. "I'm so full," she groaned. "You always make me eat too much. I'm gonna get fat."

Cullen clicked his tongue next to her ear. "What bullshit," he said with a wry smile. "Besides, I'll help you work it off later."

"I'm counting on it," Isabella shot back and giggled when she heard him groan and felt him shift his hips languidly behind her.

Truthfully, she couldn't wait to have him naked and lying on her, in her. She missed the feel and the smell of his body when they came together. It felt like forever since they had made love. Ever since she had come to the realization that she was very much in love with Edward Cullen, Isabella couldn't call sex with him anything other than 'making love', even if he didn't feel or realize the same.

"Tell me more about the house and your time with your grandma," she muttered as he handed her another beer. She was on her fifth now, and she needed to slow down. If Cullen's aim was to get her drunk and have his way with her, then he wasn't far from achieving it at all. "Tell me about your friends, girlfriends…tell me everything."

Cullen laughed and kissed her hair as they continued to watch the flames lick and dance in the moon light. The wind had died down now and the sky had cleared, dropping the temperature quickly so that their breath was visible. Isabella couldn't feel the cold though. She was feeling perfect.

"Okay," Cullen exhaled as he rubbed his hands across her stomach. "Well, I've never had a girlfriend. I was never with girls long enough to warrant a label like that." He kissed her temple. "This may be hard to believe, but I was a complete asshole with girls when I was a kid."

Isabella laughed at his sarcasm. "No way," she gasped playfully.

"Way," he murmured into her earlobe.

"How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

"Fifteen," he answered quickly, "You?"

Isabella placed her hand on top of his, "Seventeen." She felt him tense, but then closed her eyes as his lips brushed the corner of her mouth.

"Did he treat you right?" he asked quietly. "Did he hurt you?"

Isabella shook her head. "He was…very gentle." The topic of Jamie would have to be broached eventually. They had to be truthful and he had to learn to take a breath and not react. Isabella inhaled deeply and pushed her fingers through his against her sternum. She felt him squeeze her fingers to his. "He was my best friend."

"Oh."

"Yeah…Jamie," she whispered, "The guy who called the day that we had a session. The guy you thought was my boyfriend."

Cullen didn't move or speak, but his stillness spoke volumes. Isabella continued in an effort to calm him. "We weren't in relationships with other people so we decided to do it together. It was awkward, embarrassing…, and over very quickly. I was just relieved to get it over with." She laughed nervously and pulled his arms further around her.

Cullen cleared his throat and dropped his chin to her shoulder. "I'm…I'm glad that it was with someone who you trusted." He paused and she felt his smile through her sweater. "Will I ever get to meet _Jamie_?"

Isabella coughed a laugh. "Behave, Cullen," she chastised and smiled when she heard him laugh a low rumble in his chest. She stretched gently against him and let her eyes close. "Did you and Rosalie ever…you know?" She tried to hide the curious jealousy in her voice, but she was pretty sure that she failed miserably.

Cullen almost choked. "No way!" he exclaimed. "She's like my _sister_!"

"I'm sorry," Isabella explained as she tried to hide her snorts of laughter as Cullen shivered at the gross image of what she had just asked. "She _is_ very beautiful. I thought that there may have been something…"

"She _is_ very beautiful," Cullen admitted. "But it was never that way with Rose. We're too similar, too fiery, and pig-headed. We'd end up killing one another. We're better as friend's even though she drives me fucking crazy!"

"How did you meet?" Isabella asked and sat in absolute silence as Cullen told her how he and Rosalie had met at one of the first schools he ever got sent away to.

"That was before I went to the all boy's," he explained. "I tried to steal her glass of milk, she punched me in the junk, and we've been friends ever since. We lost touch along the way, but every time we get back together, it's as if we've never been apart. We were together a lot after…when she came out of hospital. She lived with me for a while."

"Hospital?"

"Yeah," Cullen said in a dark voice that Isabella recognized from when he spoke of Peter.

"You don't have to tell me," she offered with her hand on his cheek. "Sorry."

"No," he stopped her. He turned his face and placed a kiss on her palm. "It's just a hard story to tell. I want to tell you everything. You'll just have to bear with me, baby."

So Isabella did. She listened as Cullen explained, in a very low, angry voice, about Rosalie's boyfriend, Royce, and how he became fond of using her as a punching bag whenever times got hard. Isabella kept her hand on Cullen's face as he described the injuries that Rosalie sustained during one brutal attack and the state that she was in when he arrived at the hospital after getting the scariest phone call of his life. He described the operation that she had to have to save her life, and that; as a result, she was unable to have children.

"She always wanted children," he murmured.

"What happened to Royce?"

"He died," Cullen answered flatly. His eyes drifted slowly to Isabella's and he shook his head. "I didn't kill him, as much as I wanted to. He got his just reward and he's burning for it."

Isabella stared at his strong determined expression and felt her heart fill with even more love for him. "You're a good friend," she whispered.

Cullen scoffed slightly and made to look away, but Isabella held his face towards hers. "I mean it," she said firmly. "You're a good person, Cullen, and the day you realize it can't come soon enough."

Cullen frowned and let his nose touch the tip of hers. "I'm not a good person, Bella-"

"Bullshit," Isabella hissed. "Look at what you did for Rosalie, what you did for Jacob. You put yourself at risk for him because he's your friend. You're loyal, protective, and caring, and that makes _you_ a good person."

Before Cullen could argue, Isabella pressed her mouth to his and kissed him to show that she meant every word. He had been told for so long that he wasn't wanted, needed or that he was a waste of space that now, he truly didn't see the good side of himself, the part that Isabella saw.

The part that shined.

"You saved me, Cullen," she added as she traced his lips with the tips of her fingers. "You saved my life. Don't ever tell me that you're _not_ good."

Cullen's grip on her tightened while he whispered her name reverently. He kissed her, needing to be closer. _Fuck_, her words left him in utter ruins.

She sighed into his mouth when he moved his hands underneath her sweater, up her ribs, to her breasts. She fit exactly in his palms and he squeezed her gently. He cupped them, groaned, and brushed his fingers lightly over her nipples. They were instantly taut.

"You feel cold?" he asked by her mouth with a flash of teasing in his lustful eyes. He knew that her body listened to his touch, just as his did to hers.

"No," she answered. "I feel perfect."

"Yes you do," he murmured and kissed her at the same time that he pushed her bra up and let his palms fondle her naked chest under the blanket. She was so warm and soft. "You feel fucking incredible."

His hands massaged, caressed and nipped at her, making her back arch and her breathing hitch. He kissed from her mouth to her jaw and down her neck to her collarbone, licking at her delicate skin.

"You taste so good," he murmured. "You smell so good." He rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefingers and Bella gasped his name. "Jesus, Bella, tell me that I can be inside of you tonight. _Please_," he begged.

She didn't answer. Instead, she moved her hand behind herself and grabbed his hard cock through the denim of his jeans. He groaned and bit down on her ear lobe. "Fuck yes," he growled as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He couldn't help but push his hips into her hand while his grip on her supple flesh increased with each move that she made. She turned her head back to him and offered him her tongue. Cullen held her chin and sucked her tongue into his mouth, humming his pleasure at her sweet taste. _Tender, juicy peaches._

Goddamn, he needed his tongue in her pussy. _Now_.

"Baby," he grunted as her hand rubbed harder at his crotch. "_Shit_…I want you so bad." He swallowed loudly, losing himself to her touch. It had been so long since he had felt her that way. "But I want you…in bed."

"Yeah?" Bella panted, shifting her tight ass against his cock.

"_Uh_…yeah, please, Bella. I don't want to cum in my fucking jeans." He felt Bella laugh as her tongue traced his bottom lip. "I mean it," he smirked as her hand gave him one last squeeze. "You're too fucking good at that."

Bella moved around until she was on her knees between Cullen's legs, pulling her sweater and bra back down as she did. Cullen could feel the pout that appeared on his face as she covered herself up. _Motherfucking travesty._

"There's more where that came from," she hummed sexily before licking his jaw. "Take me to bed, baby."

Cullen grabbed her waist and pulled her close, kissing her like a mad man while mumbling curses and noises about her body, and what he wanted to do to it. As God was his witness, he was gonna feast on that shit until sunrise. He couldn't help but smile when she started to laugh at his desperation and the fact that, maybe he had made his promise to God out loud. Not that he gave a flying fuck. Being playful and silly with Bella was freeing. His chest felt light and his head was clearer than it had been on weeks. Months. _Forever_.

Bella scrambled to her feet, grabbed their trash and blanket, and, with the sound of her laughter echoing around the sand dunes, ran ahead of Cullen into the house. Cullen left the fire in the pit to die down itself, grabbed what trash and beer was left and sprinted after her, making it to the back door as the wind slammed it shut. Opening it with a grumble and while dropping everything to the floor as he went, he motored through the house, smiling at every piece of Bella's crumpled clothing that he passed on the way.

Her hat, her boots, her socks, her scarf, her sweater…her bra. _Fuck yes!_

She squealed when she heard his heavy feet thunder up the stairs at the back of her, but all Cullen could see was a flash of chocolate hair and peach flesh as she flew around the top of the stairs towards the bedroom. Dammit, she was quick.

Pushing himself faster, he finally caught a proper glimpse of her back, and was once again solid as a damned rock when he saw her bare-chested and dressed in a pair of jeans that were half way unfastened. Running with a boner, however, was not fun. That shit was uncomfortable as all hell.

Kicking open the bedroom door before it shut on him, and making Bella scream in excited panic, he managed to grab a hold of her arm and pull her body back against his. She was gasping for air, but the moans came thick and fast when Cullen's hands once more found her tits and his mouth latched hungrily onto her shoulder. He grunted when she reached back and pulled at his hair. His desperation seemed to have transferred into her as she began grabbing for him and begging for any part of him to be inside of her.

Cullen spun her around, and knotted his fingers into her hair, smothering her mouth with his, and, in three large strides, he backed her into the bedroom wall. The air left them both when they came to a dead stop. _Fuck_, her hands were everywhere. She grappled with his button fly and wrapped her perfect warm hand around his dick as soon as he was free. He released her mouth and, with his head lolling back, moaned loudly into the room.

"God, Bella," he cried out as her thumb ran over the wet tip of his cock. "Yes, baby…" he sucked in a long breath through his teeth. "Just like that. Yes."

He dropped his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth, moaning every time that she did. Her sounds were fucking epic and so sexy that they made his balls tighten even more. He pushed his fingers into the waistband of her jeans and panties and shoved them down her thighs, and passed her knees. Patience and tenderness had left the fucking building.

"Yes!" Bella gasped and pulled them off the rest of the way with her feet, leaving her naked in his fully clothed arms. She wrapped her hands into the hem of his sweater and pushed it up his chest, lathering his sternum with wet, open mouthed kisses, bites, and sucks that left Cullen's spine feeling like fucking jello. He ripped the sweater off the rest of the way, leaving his hair in utter disarray, and pushed himself against her, loving the feel of her skin next to his.

Finding her mouth again with his own, Cullen panted into her mouth as his cock rubbed back and forth along her smooth stomach.

"Now," Bella mewed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I need you in me now."

"Now?" Cullen asked in a half daze. His cock on the other hand heard every word loud and clear and twitched hard against her hip.

"Here. Now," Bella replied and lifted her right leg so that she could wind it around his thigh.

Cullen's eyes widened slightly at her demanding tone before he pulled himself together pushed his jeans down so that they collected at his knees, and grabbed Bella's ass. With their mouths glued together, nipping, licking, and kissing, Cullen picked her up and held her to the wall with his chest while her thighs tightened around his waist, locking them together.

He grabbed hold of his cock and slid it up and down her pussy, lathering his entire length in her juices. She was so fucking wet, swollen, and her heat was amazing; begging for his dick.

"Don't tease," Bella moaned as she fidgeted in his arms and grazed his throat with her teeth.

"I'm not," he replied with a deep breath. "I'm indulging in how much you want me. Dammit, Bella…" He smiled into her neck and placed the tip of himself gently at her entrance. He pushed up a little. Teasing.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

He pushed a little more, holding his breath while her pussy opened around him: eager, sopping.

"Now?"

"Yes."

With one hard thrust, he was buried balls deep inside of her, crying out as she did the same. "Fuck!"

Bella's head hit the wall as she arched, "Oh God, Cullen! Shit, shit!"

"Perfect," he moaned as his forehead touched hers, "So…so damned perfect." The adjective was lame at best, but, fuck, there were no words to describe how it felt to have her that way.

"It's so deep."

_I want deeper._ "Uh, I know."

"Fuck me?"

_I'll cum if your dirty mouth carries on, baby._ "Christ, Bella."

"Fuck me, Cullen. I need you."

_You have no idea._ "I need you too, baby."

"Show me."

Holding onto her with one hand on her shoulder and one hand on her waist, Cullen began to thrust powerfully into her tight heat, slapping his hips against her ass while she clung onto him and begged for more, deeper, harder. He kept his pace, finding a rhythm that made sure that he was as deep inside of her as he could possibly go, and listened to the noises that she made and the way that her body moved and twitched as he did.

Her breath left her in long pants and reentered with whimpers and purrs of pleasure that encouraged Cullen to roll his hips before pounding into her again. It was the sweetest torture to feel and hear her orgasm build and then retreat every time that he slowed or changed position.

"Let me," she implored as she swallowed his breath into her own lungs. "_Cullen_…oh, fuck…I'm so close…let me cum."

Cullen grinned wolfishly, stopped moving, and licked at the sweat on her collarbone.

"Not yet, baby girl," he placated. "Not until I've tasted that sweet pussy."

Before Bella could respond, and with her wrapped securely around him, Cullen turned and shuffled to the bed with his jeans around his ankles. They both laughed and kissed as their bodies hit the bed, but Bella groaned in severe disappointment when Cullen pulled out of her and began removing his boots, socks and jeans.

"Patience, Peaches," he chided as, naked as the day he was born, he lowered his mouth to her stomach and circled her belly button slowly with his tongue. Bella's body bowed up towards him.

"Goddamn," he murmured into her stomach. "You're so fucking delicious."

Moving lower until his chin was touching the bed; Cullen extended his tongue and flicked it at her pussy. Bella almost leapt off the bed at the contact and cried out when he did it again. Her taste was extraordinary. Sure enough it was sweet with a hint of tang, but the best part; Cullen's favorite part, was in the wettest areas of her cunt where the taste was smooth, creamy, and inherently Bella. That part made Cullen's cock thicken beyond belief.

Nothing tasted or felt as good in his mouth as she did.

Gripping her hips and holding her to the bed, Cullen started lapping at her clit and pussy. He flicked, sucked, nibbled and kissed from the top of her to near the very bottom. Two of his fingers pushed into her warmth and immediately found the rough patch of skin that he knew would send her skyward. Then, with a long moan as it slid in, he added a third.

"Fuck!" Bella screamed out as her hands grabbed his head and pushed his face further into her.

He hummed in satisfaction as she began to wind her hips in jerky figures of eight, fucking his face just the way that he loved.

"Close…close…fuck, there…there…"

Her whimpering spurred Cullen on in both speed and force, pumping his fingers and vibrating his tongue along the very tip of her clit. He pushed her legs up with his left forearm wanting closer, deeper, and felt his own orgasm shift from his stomach to his balls when she clenched around him, howled out his first name, and came hard and pulsing all over his damn fingers and face.

So. Fucking. Sexy. Nothing would beat that shit.

Before Bella could take a breath, and before Cullen came all over the fucking sheets from the noises that she was making, he climbed up her body, put both of her ankles onto his left shoulder and slammed into her.

"Fuckingmotherfuckingshit!" he cried out as he began driving into her.

"Oh God, Oh God," Bella groaned while her knuckles turned white as she gripped one of the pillows at her side, "So…good."

Cullen bent down and kissed her chin, but moaned and thrust harder when she moved and let him kiss her mouth, tasting herself all over him. Her hands were in his hair and scratching down his chest as he kneeled back up and began to let his body catch the orgasm that was shooting relentlessly around his body.

"Beautiful," Bella whispered as she looked up at him, and began to move with him, clenching and swiveling her hips as Cullen gripped her legs and pumped his.

"Gonna cum, baby," he gasped over the slick, wet sounds of their fucking. "Oh fuck."

"You gonna cum hard for me, Cullen?"

Cullen's face scrunched in pleasurable agony as he panted and growled and begged for his own release. "Yes…yeah, fuck…ah, shit, Bella, I'm…"

"You feel so good inside me," she moaned as she reached for his hands.

Feeling and seeing her below him sent Cullen crazy. His body and brain became independent of the rest of him, and he was utterly powerless to stop either.

"Tight," he groaned. _Like your body is desperate to have me inside of you forever. Holding me. I'm desperate for it too._

"So hard," she answered.

"Wet." _You want me. Fuck, you want me so much._

"Big."

"Shit." _Close…_

"Perfect."

_Oh fuck, yes it is!_ "Fuckfuckfuckfuck!"

Cullen's hips swiveled, pounded into her another three times, and stilled as he came deep inside of her, shaking, grunting, sweating, and feeling more alive than he ever thought possible. His cock pulsed continually as Bella moved her legs apart so that he could drop down onto her, burying his face into her neck.

"Goddamn. Goddamn," he sighed as her hands smoothed their way down his back to the curve of his ass and back up again. "That was…fuck, I don't even know," he mumbled as his eyes closed.

Bella chuckled. "I know," she replied. "Every time is…incredible, special." She placed a soft kiss on his shoulder and hugged him to her.

"You didn't cum again," Cullen muttered, annoyed.

Bella laughed and shook her head incredulously. "I'm fucking breathless from the one I got, sweetheart. I'm great. Believe me."

Cullen lifted his head wearily and looked down at her. His palm cupped her left temple and he smiled lazily. "I like to make you cum. I like the noises that you make." He kissed her softly. "The way you look and move. I just like fucking…maki-…_being_ this way with you."

Bella curled her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck making goose bumps appear all over Cullen's body. Her eyes were soft, caring…Cullen allowed himself the thought…maybe loving?

"I like being this way with you too," she whispered. She pulled his mouth down to hers gently and kissed him. Cullen breathed into her and pressed more of his weight down as her lips caressed his. His mouth was still pursed when she pulled back. He frowned at her, wanting more.

"I need the bathroom," she smiled back at him before gesturing down between their bodies with her chin. "I need to clean up."

Cullen smiled back, feeling his body start to heat up again at the thought of his cum inside of her.

_Mine._

With great effort, Cullen pulled his softening cock from her and rolled to his side. He watched with heavy but wanting eyes as Bella walked her naked ass across the bedroom towards the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Cullen rubbed his face of his post-coital tiredness before he sat up and pulled a pair of sweat pants from the drawers at the side of the bed.

By the time, he had washed up in the bathroom down the hall, brushed his teeth, and grabbed two bottles of water; Bella was back in bed looking stunning with her clean skin and bright eyes.

She pushed the covers back and patted the bed. "I'm cold," she whispered playfully when Cullen noticed that she was still naked.

With a wide smile, he settled into bed next to her and opened his arms up for her to snuggle into which she did with a hum of contentment. He kissed her head and exhaled as he rubbed his palms slowly up and down her silky skin.

Bella had been right when she had noted the change in him when he was at the beach house. He _did_ feel different, and now that he had his Peaches with him, he felt even better. God, it was just like he could breathe easier, see clearer.

For one brief moment, with his Peaches safe and warm in his arms and with the faint sound of the ocean outside, Cullen allowed himself, just like he had when he was a kid, to forget the bullshit that waited for him and Bella when they returned to reality.

He forgot about Peter the asshole, the lawyers, parole officers, therapists, and rules. He forgot about Jacob with his desperate attempts to be with a woman who broke his heart, the millions that he was owed, and the arguments that he would have with Rosalie when she found out where he had been and who with. He forgot about his father, his mother, the rest of his fucked up extended family, and how he would forever feel unworthy of the woman curled up at his side.

And, as his cloudless mind started to drift slowly to sleep and his arm tightened around his Bella, for one split second, Cullen felt happier and more at peace than he had in his entire life.

**Holy hot wall fuck, Batman!**

**Wow. I think I need a drink after that. I hope you've enjoyed the fluff, romance, and smut so far because there ****is**** more to come…before they head back to reality…**

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**TTFN x x**


	34. Chapter 34

**Hola!**

**Thanks again for the massive support. You all leave me amazed.**

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**It's a long one this one, but for good reason.**

**I hope you like.**

**See you on the other side…**

"_It hurts to love someone and not be loved in return, but what is the most painful is to love someone and never find the courage to let the person know how you feel." ~ _**Unknown.**

**Chapter 33: Everything**

Isabella shifted her face against the soft pillow that lay underneath her right cheek. She wasn't sure whether she was still asleep and dreaming or whether the warm, gentle, and extraordinarily sexy kisses that she was feeling at the base of her spine were actually real.

Keeping her eyes closed, she allowed herself to relax under the sensation of tender lips, sensual licks, and hums of pleasure that were coming from the far end of the bed. She sucked in a slow, staggered breath when she felt large calloused hands caress her naked sides, fidgeting slightly when they passed over her annoyingly ticklish ribs.

She felt a tremble of laughter against her thighs, confirming that she was in fact _not _dreaming, before the kisses began to move languidly across the dimples of her ass, and along her right cheek where a warm tongue left a wet trail to her leg until she felt…

"AH!"

Isabella's head shot from the pillow and quickly snapped around to see a very smug and very naked Cullen with his teeth still embedded in her ass cheek.

"What the fuck?" she half laughed, half whined.

Truth was, as much as it had taken her by surprise, he hadn't hurt her, and, fuck, he looked goddamned delicious with his mouth on her that way. She smirked as his beautiful eyes sparkled mischievously back up at her. He released her flesh with a soft popping sound, licked and kissed it gently, and smiled.

"Morning," he said with a low husk. He rested his chin on her ass and rubbed his hands down the sides of her legs.

Isabella laughed and ran a hand across her face. "Good morning to you," she answered as her palm landed heavily back onto the bed. "You wanna explain to me what the hell you're doing taking chunks out of my ass?"

He chuckled and shrugged. "Because I can," he answered nonchalantly. "I was watching you sleep," he continued as a slight hue of pink appeared on his cheeks. "And you moved, and your ass just looked fucking spectacular, so I thought I'd wish it a good morning. You know, being courteous and all. It's too fucking pretty to ignore."

Isabella rolled her eyes playfully. "Well next time, go easy with the teeth on my pretty ass, Vampy McVamperson."

Cullen snorted, raised himself onto his palms, and prowled slowly up her body. To say that he looked sexy would have been the biggest understatement of the twenty-first century. Jesus, he simply oozed sex and strong masculinity as his muscles tensed and relaxed as they carried his weight. Isabella rolled slowly onto her back, and smiled up at him when the tips of his noses touched.

"Hey," she whispered as his body settled carefully onto her.

"Hey," he replied before he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was patient but wanting, and made Isabella sigh and wrap her arms around his neck.

Morning breath be damned.

He hummed and cupped her head in his hands, deepening the kiss just enough to make Isabella gasp and arch underneath him. She smiled when she felt his hard cock rub eagerly against her hip. Cullen pulled away from her mouth when he felt her shake with laughter.

"What?" he asked with an amused expression.

"I was just thinking," she answered while tapping her chin with her index finger. "You bite my ass because you think it's pretty; maybe I should do the same to your cock you know, because I think it's exceedingly pret-."

She squealed as his hands tickled her sides mercilessly, stopping her mid sentence, pulling her onto his chest, as he rolled quickly onto his back.

"My cock might be a lot of things, Peaches," he grumbled, as he held her tightly while he continued his tickle assault. "But _'pretty'_ is not fucking one of them."

He kissed her again as she laughed.

"Hard, fuck awesome, huge: these are words you _can_ use, but for the love of God, _not_ 'pretty'." He tried his hardest not to smile as she snorted with laughter, but she just looked too stunning. He cupped her face and gave her a pleading expression. "Dammit, woman, give my dick some dignity."

He hissed when her hand grasped his cock and rubbed her palm down to his balls. "Oh, I'll give it something alright," she purred, tightening her grip on him while smiling as he panted her name, "That feel good?"

"Fuck yes," he whispered back.

He licked his lips and pulled her face down to his so that he could kiss her senseless. He moved his hips up into her hand and groaned when her other cupped his balls. His head dropped back onto the pillows as his eyes rolled back. He rubbed his palms down her shoulders to her arms. "God, baby, you feel _so_ incredible touching me like that."

"Good," she murmured back as she kissed his neck, nibbling his Adams apple as she did. She moved her hand up and down him twice more, rubbing her thumb over his wet tip, before she released gradually him and sat back on her heels watching his face as he slowly came back to earth.

His eyes fluttered open and his body relaxed back into the mattress. "Bella?" he asked with a long breath. He glanced down at his rock solid cock, frowned, and narrowed his eyes at her. "What…why?"

Isabella smirked triumphantly and crossed her arms over her chest to hide her very erect nipples. "Maybe that will teach you to keep your teeth to yourself?"

Cullen's mouth opened and closed repeatedly, as Isabella lifted gracefully from the bed and pulled a pair of shorts and a hoodie from her suitcase.

"Oh, come on! You can't be fucking serious, baby?" he groaned with open palms gesturing wildly towards his twitching crotch. "I'm…I'm sorry. _Please_…just touch him a little bit?"

Isabella's shoulders shook with laughter as she held up the clothes in front of her.

"I won't bite your ass again," he continued. "I promise. No matter how fucking pretty _or_ epic it is."

She could hear the smile in his voice as he begged. Isabella was glad that she had her back to him so that he couldn't see her giggles. And, honestly, if she looked back at him on the bed, naked, spread-eagled, glistening, and hard for her, she wouldn't be able to say no again.

Playing with him was fun, but she knew that his cock in her mouth would be ten times better.

Collecting her self once she was dressed, and keeping her eyes on his face as she turned around, she shook her head. "I'm going to go downstairs and make some breakfast."

She wandered casually towards the bedroom door, feeling his dark, lustful eyes on her the entire way. She pointed to him indifferently.

"I suggest that _you_ have a cold shower…" She failed to hold in her smile as she licked her lips seductively and looked pointedly at his dick, "The pair of you."

She laughed loudly and bolted out of the room as two pillows flew like bullets after her, hitting the door and the wall in the hallway.

"You'll pay for this, Swan!" he called out to her with a lighthearted groan and chuckle.

Isabella smiled to herself and rubbed her chest as it exploded in warmth and happiness. "I'm counting on it," she muttered as she skipped down to the kitchen.

=PoF=

Cullen's shower was tepid to say the very fucking least.

Damn teasing woman and her fuck hot ass and hand skills.

_Fuck_.

He smiled to himself as he pulled on his jeans. He loved seeing her so carefree and playful. How could he not? She glowed. And her laugh was so good to hear. It was the kind of laugh that just made you want to laugh along, no matter if you knew the reason for it or not. Cullen vowed to himself there and then that he'd spend the rest of their time together making sure that he heard it again and again.

As he pulled on a black button down over his white t-shirt and rolled the sleeves up his forearms, he thought back to their evening together and couldn't help but feel relieved and somewhat pleased with himself. So far so good. Once she had arrived, and once they had both relaxed, things had gone really well. He'd enjoyed their talk and their banter all evening. He'd even go so far as to admit that he liked opening up to her. It had been easier for him, at least. He didn't experience the usual defensiveness as he spoke about Rosalie, which was refreshing, and hadn't even argued that much when Bella had suggested that he was a good person.

Whether or not it was true, or whether he believed her at all, was another matter altogether. The point was, was that _she_ believed it, and that, for now, was enough. He wanted to be good. He wanted to be good for her. He wanted to be good _enough_ for her. Truthfully, she'd almost had him convinced, especially when he saw the fervency in her beautiful eyes as she spoke the words, and felt the honesty on her lips when she kissed him.

Once again, Isabella Swan had managed to remove another large brick from the now minute wall that had previously protected his heart, and, weirdly, Cullen couldn't have cared fucking less.

As well as talking and laughing, holding Bella while they sat next to the fire on the beach had been great too. He felt so close to her at that moment, physically and emotionally, even if he had started to sound like some fucking Oprah Winfrey special. _Whatever._ In truth, he'd have been happy to do it all night had it not been for the fact that the pair of them would have fucking frozen to death.

Plus, he would have missed out on the hottest wall sex he had ever fucking had. _Ever._

Christ, she'd been amazing. She'd felt amazing. Tasted amazing. It was no damned wonder that he'd cum so hard. He glanced at the wall in question and felt his heart pound at the memory. Hot. As. Fuck.

Not to sound like a complete pussy, however, but waking up next to Bella had been the biggest highlight for Cullen so far. He'd meant it when he had told her that he had watched her sleep that morning. It had been fascinating.

He had slept so soundly and so comfortably that he had woken a while before she had, and couldn't resist lying there as she sighed and mumbled nonsensical words into the pillows. She'd moaned a little too, whispering his name a couple of times; driving him fucking insane with need for her. He'd been unable to take any more when she'd started winding her hips against the mattress while purring like the seductress he knew she was. She'd looked fucking incredible when he'd pulled the sheets back to watch her more closely.

Hence the ass bite.

No matter whether she had teased him and his cock or not, that shit was totally worth it.

Shit, she had a fine ass.

He wandered out of the bedroom, willing his semi hard cock to back the fuck up, and jogged down the stairs, smiling to himself when he heard Bella singing along to the radio.

"_Oh, nah, nah, what's mah name? Oh, nah, nah what's mah name?"_

His lungs squeezed as he turned the corner and saw her dancing; shaking said ass from side to side while plating up eggs and toast. Silently, he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, hypnotized as she moved like liquid sex around the place. She looked so good in his house, so perfect, so natural that it was as if she had always been there. She just…_fit_.

He was hit suddenly and unexpectedly with a vividly sublime vision:

_Ten years from now…twenty years…watching her dance in the kitchen…dancing with her in the kitchen…dancing with her on the beach at sunset…pushing into her under the stars…swimming with her in the sea…telling her that he couldn't be without her…telling her that he wanted no one else…whispering to her that he…_

"How long have you been there?"

Cullen blinked a few times and cleared his throat as he focused on Bella's face that was gorgeously pink with embarrassment.

"Long enough," he smirked as he pushed off the counter and walked towards her. He wound his arms around her waist and kissed her while he began moving his hips as she had been doing. "You look great when you dance," he murmured against her lips. She laughed sarcastically and dropped her head to his shoulder in mortification.

"I'm fucking serious," he chided. "I remember seeing you dance in the club." He slid is nose along her jaw. "Do you remember?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "Of course I remember."

"You looked so good," he growled, and kissed her again as he remembered the small black dress that she had been wearing, and the way in which she'd moved with him on the dance floor. He pushed her back against the counter and rotated his hips hungrily into hers. Goddamn it, he wanted her so badly.

Again and again and again.

_Mine._

"Easy tiger," Bella murmured with a sly smile as her hands rubbed his forearms that trapped her. "You're still on a time out."

Cullen pulled back from her and pouted childishly. He rubbed the ass cheek that he had nibbled. "Spoil sport."

Bella laughed, cupped his face, and kissed him again, humming in pleasure when their tongues touched gently. She pushed one hand into his hair and gripped his black button down in the other. They kissed that way for what felt like hours, enjoying each other's mouths and the connection that they both felt, before she pushed meekly on his chest and slowly leaned back.

She wanted him, Cullen could tell, it was all over her face and on the inside of her pupils that were huge and needy. He knew because he felt it too, in every inch of his body. He'd _never_ have enough of her.

"I made you breakfast," she muttered pushing a shaky hand through her hair as her chest continued to heave with labored breaths.

"I see that," Cullen answered rubbing his thumb down the centre of her chin. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and smiled. "Thank you."

Silently, they both sat down and began to eat their breakfast. With a mouthful of egg, Cullen glanced out towards the beach to see that, although it was windy, the sky was a perfect blue.

"It's a nice day," he commented with a wave of his fork towards the window, "Ideal weather."

Bella cocked a suspicious eyebrow, "Ideal for what?"

Cullen smiled knowingly and sipped his orange juice. "You'll see."

=PoF=

"What about this?" Bella asked as she stood in the bathroom doorway with her arms wide. "Is this alright?"

Cullen rolled his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. "You look beautiful. But really, it doesn't matter. You just have to be comfortable and warm."

This time, Bella rolled _her_ eyes and grumbled under her breath as she walked back into the bedroom. "If you just told me what we were doing or where we're going I could dress accordingly."

Cullen smiled. "But where would be the fun in that?" He snickered when she shot him a narrow eyed look.

They had been at the _what-shall-I-wear_ game for nearly an hour and Cullen had still managed to keep her in the dark about what he had planned, but, fuck, she had been hard work. He had never imagined how hard it was for a woman to decide on what she was fucking wearing. Saying that, however, it wasn't any fucking wonder considering the amount of shit that she had brought with her. He smiled wryly when he looked at the monstrous suitcase that she had repeatedly delved into.

Lifting himself from his seat on the bed, he walked over to her as she grabbed her black blazer and pulled it on over her white long sleeved top and grey jeans. He dipped his knees so that he was eye level with her and pulled her roughly towards him by her belt loops.

"Don't be mad for God's sake," he muttered with a small smirk. "Just enjoy it."

A slow smile appeared on her face as she wound a black and white triangular shaped scarf around her neck. "Okay, okay," she conceded. "I'm sorry. I just get nervous when-"

"You're not in control," Cullen interrupted with a solemn expression. "I get it, Miss Swan."

He laughed when she pursed her lips and pushed playfully at his chest. He kissed her soundly, shutting her up, and pulled her towards the door.

"Come on, Grumpy Ass. The day's wasting."

After locking all the windows and doors, Cullen led a puzzled looking Bella down to the garage underneath the house.

"We're not taking the car?" she asked curiously, as she looked back at her Mini.

"Nope," Cullen replied with a sexy grin. "We're riding in serious style today, baby."

He guided her across the garage to where _Kala_ sat in all her sexy ass glory. Cullen sighed when he saw her. "Good morning, gorgeous." He ran his hand up her leather seat towards the engine and gripped the metal handlebars.

"We're taking _Kala_?" Bella asked. Cullen wasn't sure whether it was nervousness or excitement that he detected in her voice.

"Yeah," he replied, looking back at her. "That okay?"

She smiled and nodded eagerly with her eyes fixed on the bike. "That's great. I loved riding her with you."

Cullen's heart kicked hard behind his ribs. "Me too," he murmured. Having her wrapped around him while he rode _Kala_ across Manhattan had been beyond exhilarating, and incredibly erotic.

That day he had told her who he was and how he knew her. The day that he had first been inside of her and allowed her to steal inside of him.

They stood staring at one another for a brief moment, both of them reliving the memories, before Cullen came to his senses and made his way over to the shelf that held the bike helmets and leathers.

"I got you something," he said softly as he handed her a large red box with a black bow.

Eying him curiously, Bella took the box and began to untie it. Cullen pulled on his denim jacket, and his leather jacket, and watched her nervously as she pulled out her own. He had seen it in a bike store in town when he had been buying food for the weekend, and he could not resist.

It was black leather with silver zipped pockets and a main fastening zip that traveled in a sexy curve to the right side. It was short enough that it would hit just below the small of Bella's back when she wore it, with a collar that would fit perfectly under her delicate jaw.

She stood for an age looking at it with a neutral expression on her face, and Cullen shifted from foot to foot as he waited for her to say something. He never had been the world's most patient man.

"Well, fuck," he exclaimed in exasperation when he couldn't take the silence any longer. "Do you like it? Do you hate it?"

Bella looked at him over the shoulder of the jacket that she was holding up in front of her and smiled coyly.

"You bought me a jacket," she all but whispered.

Cullen frowned, perplexed by her words, "Yeah."

"You bought me a very sexy, very _cool_ leather jacket."

Cullen felt his face relax and leaned his hip against _Kala_, "Yeah."

He watched as she unzipped it and then held it out to him. "Will you help me put it on?"

"Sure."

He took it from her and held it as she slipped her arms into it and pulled her hair out of the collar so that it fell like a chocolate river down her back. He may have taken a small breath of her as she zipped the jacket up. He groaned quietly when he realized that the delectable peach smell was surrounded by the hot scent of new leather.

_Goddamn_.

Bella turned around and put her hands on her hips. "What do you think?" she asked.

Cullen let his eyes wander leisurely down her body, taking in the luscious curves that the leather jacket accentuated, down her long legs, to her black calf length boots, and shook his head. _Fuck_. He was without words to describe the vision before him. His cock, although pushing his way against his fly to take a closer look, was also slightly stunned. She was the epitome of every wet dream that he had ever had, and then some. He knew that she'd look good in it, that's why he had bought the fucking thing, but holy shit; his imagination hadn't even come close to picturing what was standing right in front of him.

He rubbed his chin and licked his lips before he adjusted himself in his jeans with a grimace.

Bella watched that particular movement and laughed. "That good, huh?" she asked coquettishly.

Cullen nodded and exhaled hard. "Bella…" He took her in for one more, sublime moment. "Sweetheart, if you don't get your ass on this bike right this second, I will have no choice but to fuck you where you stand. I swear to God."

He pointed forcefully towards _Kala_. Bella laughed again and blushed beautifully, "Yes, sir."

At her words, Cullen growled and held out her helmet. "You drive me insane, woman," he mumbled.

He pulled on his own helmet and threw his leg over the seat, waiting to feel Bella behind him. When he did, he a mixture of desire, excitement, and something that he could only describe as elation filled him. He felt elated. He felt alive. Fuck it, he felt like he was on cloud fucking nine.

Bella wrapped her arms around his stomach, squeezing him tightly as he turned the key in the ignition and planted a kiss that was so firm, he could feel it through his jackets between his shoulder blades. He closed his eyes as he slipped on his shades, and breathed. _Yeah._ That shit was fucking perfect. With a small caress of Bella's hand as it clung to his jacket, Cullen revved the bike's engine before he pulled back on the gas, and let _Kala_ fly.

=PoF=

Every so often, as he and Bella flew down road after road, Cullen would clutch her hand and bring it to his mouth, laying small kisses across her knuckles. He realized, after the fourth time of doing it, that he did as much for his comfort as for hers. He didn't give a shit. He just reveled in having her so damned close.

Like the last time that they had ridden the bike, Cullen couldn't help but think about how having his Peaches on his _Kala_ with him was the best thing ever (second only to seeing and hearing Bella as he pushed himself into her). The wind was fresh and the sky stayed blue as they rode through Westhampton and flew past Quantuck Bay. They rode for nearly an hour before Cullen began to see other bikes ahead of them, heading in the same direction.

Slowing down so that he could turn down a large, stoned road, Cullen smiled when the thick scent of diesel hit his nose and the sound of heavy rock music echoed around them. The road led to what was once a gigantic field that was now, twice a year, a stretch of land that was converted into a grease monkey's paradise. Amidst large marquees and smaller stalls lay row upon row of muscle cars as far as the eye could see, and, next to those, were the Harley's, Triumphs, and any other erection causing piece of two wheeled metal that Cullen could think of.

Cullen pulled to a stop next to a '69 Corvette, and switched off the engine. He unfastened his helmet and pulled it off, rushing his hands through his hair when he did. He felt Bella shift at the back of him and turned to look at her. She looked fucking resplendent with pink cheeks and sleepy eyes.

"You okay?" he asked as he cupped her cheek and caressed the apple of it with his thumb. "You fall asleep on me again?"

She hummed and nodded as she removed her helmet. "It's so relaxing, just holding you while we ride. It's great."

Cullen smiled back at her. "I'm glad you liked it." He let his index finger travel down the zip of her jacket. "Jesus, Bella, it looks so fucking hot."

Bella laughed and looked down at herself. "I love it." She leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Bella looked around herself. "What is this place?"

Cullen stood from the bike, pulling his leg over carefully, and stretched. "This, baby, is fucking heaven." He held out his hand to help Bella up, and placed both of their helmets in the detachable holder on the back of _Kala_'s seat.

"Those cars are beautiful," Bella murmured as she looked down the line of Mustangs and GTs.

Cullen blinked. Yep. She really was fucking perfect. "I know, right? Mechanics, metal lovers, and fanatics meet here twice a year to show off their machines, meet like minded people or to just hang out and have a good time."

He pushed his hands into his pockets and rocked gently on his heels. "I came here a lot when I first got into metal. Jake and I, and his dad, used to come here when we were kids. I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you where my love for all this grew." He looked towards _Kala_.

Bella looked up at Cullen with a soft expression on her face and took a small step towards him. "Then show me."

Cullen slowly pulled his right hand out of his pocket and meekly held it out to her. Bella looked down at it and beamed before she placed her left firmly inside of it. Cullen exhaled as their fingers entwined and pulled her close to his side, kissing her temple, as they started to walk down the rows of cars. As they walked and talked, and explored the cars and the crazy people around them, Cullen felt fucking ten feet tall holding Bella's hand and having her with him in a place that held good memories.

Jesus, his chest felt so_ weightless_. He felt free, upbeat, and ready to take on the fucking world with his Peaches at his side…holding his hand.

"What are the stalls and marquees for?" Bella asked as they meandered past a fuck hot Ford Torino that made Cullen's pants tight.

"Oh," he replied in surprise. "The bigger ones belong to the car dealers and specialists: GT, Harley, and Ford. They sell parts cheaper than in the stores. They use it for promotion and hire mechanics, things like that." He gave her a smug sideways glance. "Emmett used to have his own marquee here, you know."

Bella looked at him in amazement. "No shit."

"Shit," Cullen answered with a grin and a squeeze of her hand. "He's a crazy motherfucker, but he's a shrewd businessman. He got me some amazing deals on parts and helped me with my other bikes and stuff. I worked with him one year. Those were some crazy assed times."

"Oh!" Bella said suddenly. "He got parole. I forgot to tell you."

Cullen laughed. "I knew he would the slimy bastard." He looked around himself. "Fucker's probably around here somewhere. Dammit, that means I owe him a beer."

He felt Bella stiffen slightly at his side and immediately looked down at her in concern. Her eyes darted around them and the color had drained from her face.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling her closer. "You okay?"

She smiled back at him but it was forced and didn't reach her large, troubled eyes. She glanced down at their joined hands and swallowed before looking back up at him with apology etching her features.

"I'm sorry," she muttered towards her feet.

Cullen sighed, sensing instantly what the problem was, and pulled her to the side of a Dodge Challenger away from the crowds around them.

"Hey," he whispered, situating her between his legs as he leaned against the trunk. "It's alright." He tucked her hair behind her ear. "You know that Emmett's cool, right? He wouldn't…I mean, he's an asshole, but he's one of the good guys."

Bella shook her head and covered her face briefly with her hands. "I know, I know. I'm so sorry, Cullen, I didn't mean to get paranoid, but I worry, and-"

Cullen shushed her gently, feeling his heart get heavy when he saw the anxiety at the edges of her mouth. He ran the pad of his thumb over her lips. "It's okay, Bella. I get it. I feel it too, but you don't have to worry. No one here knows you…or us." He took her hand and held it to his chest. "You're safe here with me."

Bella closed her eyes gently, moved closer to him, and rested her forehead against his chin. "I'm safe with you anywhere," she breathed. She growled at herself. "I'm just a fucking idiot."

Cullen chuckled and ran his hands down her back. "No, you're not. You're cautious, and there's nothing wrong with that." He hummed as their lips met and pushed his hands into her hair.

"One day," he whispered against her mouth. "One day we'll be able to go wherever we want without worrying about who sees us…or about what people think." He kissed her nose. "I fucking promise, Bella."

He hoped that she could see the promise in his gaze and hear it in his voice. He hated that there were rules and secrets that still surrounded them and their relationship, but Cullen knew that he couldn't bitch too much about it. He would rather have her in his arms in secret than not have her at all. Besides, the fact that there were still elements of naughty rawness and disobedient passion about their relationship made it even more exciting. Deep down, however, he knew that the sneaking around would eventually start to grind on both of them. As he looked down at Bella, and saw the small lines of worry on her forehead he realized, it was already happening.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he rubbed the back of her neck in an effort to comfort her.

"I'm fine," she replied and skimmed her hands down his chest as she stared up at him, beautiful and soft. "It's just you and me, right?"

He smiled down at her and nodded. "Damn straight," he answered. He cupped her face and brought it to him so that he could kiss her again, "No one else." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, grinning as she slid her palm into the back pocket of his jeans and led her back into the crowd towards the food and beer tent.

"Let me feed you," he said as they walked towards a large grill where an even larger man with tattoos and a bald head, was serving chicken legs, steaks, burgers, ribs, sausage, lamb chops, and chili that he ladled out of a giant pan.

"Dear God," Bella whispered as she took in the breads, rice, pasta, and fries that lay on the next tables. "Are they feeding the entire Continental US?"

Cullen laughed as he handed her a paper plate and a napkin. "No, just it's most hungry residents. What do you want?"

He watched her carefully as she took her bottom lip between her teeth, scoured the mountains of food, and conversed with the serving guy who told her, quite enthusiastically, that his name was Chuck. She laughed when he told that she could have anything that she wanted and Cullen smiled when she blushed at the tone that Chuck used. She really had no idea how fucking beautiful she was.

With their food on their plates and a draft beer each, they sat on a free picnic bench and talked, ate, and watched the world go by. She asked him questions about the time that he had spent with Jake and Jake's father and what trouble they had gotten into. He told her stories about the first time they had gotten shitfaced as they sat in the back of Jake's dad's vintage first generation Camaro, and how Jake had spent the following morning, hung over to fuck, cleaning the vomit that he had splattered on the wheel trims.

"It was hysterical," Cullen smirked with a shake of his head. "He didn't drink again for months."

He listened as Bella told him about her first drink with Jamie, Leah, and other friends from school and her first experience with weed. Cullen almost choked on his rice when she said that it became a regular weekend thing.

"You smoked dope?" he choked in shock. Bella smiled and nodded, "Holy shit. Miss Swan the bad ass."

Bella snorted then added coyly. "Yeah, but you already knew that."

They talked and laughed through their entire meal, reminiscing about school, friends, family, and relationships, specifically the sexual kind. The ease at which they spoke about the latter topics blew Cullen's mind. He hated that other men had touched Bella - it set his fucking teeth on edge – but, at the same time, he was fascinated to learn so much about her experiences. She told him that no man had gone down on her before because they '_didn't want to'_ - crazy fuckers - that before him she had never been able to cum through penetrative sex, and that she had only been with five men,_ including_ Cullen.

He gaped at her in surprise. "But you're so hot," he murmured in disbelief. Bella simply laughed and waved a hand at him dismissively.

He certainly blushed when she asked for his sex number.

Whether the figure of fifteen was accurate, he wasn't sure, but it didn't make him feel good, saying it out loud. It was weird for Cullen to talk about such things, because it seemed like such a long time ago that he was running around causing shit, doing shit, and fucking strange women. He didn't like to think about it too much in Bella's presence either. He was more fucked up then, darker, and horrendously pessimistic. He didn't want to taint the one light and optimistic thing that he had in his life.

Bella seemed to understand this, but encouraged him to tell her things about his crimes and his intermittent life behind bars.

She sat with her chin in her palm, watching him intently, never judging, never interrupting, or making comment on the things that he told her. It was liberating, cleansing, almost like therapy to be so open and honest with her, and he paid her in kind when she talked about her family, especially her father. He could tell by the way that she spoke: reverently and mournfully, that she had adored him. Still adored him, and his chest once again felt tight for the loss that she had suffered.

"What do you think that he would say if he could see you here right now?" he asked curiously, as he finished the last dregs of his beer.

Bella sighed a she looked at the table and shrugged with a small smile. "He'd be pleased that I'm happy," she answered softly. "He'd be pleased that I'm with the man that saved my life." Cullen swallowed loudly as she looked up at him with large, passionate eyes.

"You're happy?" he asked in an almost whisper.

Bella moved her hand over to his and squeezed it hard, never taking her eyes away from his. "Yes. I'm very happy. _You_ make me very happy, Cullen."

Cullen felt his heart flutter weirdly behind his ribs and realized that his throat was suddenly closed with an emotion that he couldn't name. He'd felt it before around his Peaches, but never _that_ strong. It was aching and wanting. The soft, piercing expression on Bella's face was almost beyond description, but it made Cullen feel light and heavy all at the same time. He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

"Good," he murmured across her skin. "You make me happy too."

"Good."

They looked at one another for a long moment, both wanting, both battling an inner emotional turmoil. Words rambled through Cullen's brain, words that he wasn't even sure he could utter. Words that were alien to his own mouth and ears.

"Let's have another walk around," Cullen suggested quickly as he looked back out at the cars and crowds. "Then…" He looked back at her. "I want to take you home."

Bella smiled and dipped her chin in acquiescence. He hadn't given her a choice, but he knew that she didn't mind. She wanted to be alone with him too, and that knowledge set his skin on fire. It wasn't even for sex, although looking at her in that leather jacket made him more than a little turned on. _Fuck._ He just wanted to _be_ with her. He pulled her up from her seat, threw their trash in the nearest garbage can, and led her, tucked under his arm, towards the rest of the stalls and marquees.

He smiled when, after walking for ten minutes, she paused at the opening of one specific tent that Cullen knew well. Bella remained quiet as they stood watching a young, blonde girl have a tattoo etched across her right hip. It was a Big Dog motor cycle stamp, and Cullen had to admit, it was sexy as hell.

"You thinking about getting one?" he asked Bella as he wrapped his arms around her with her back flush to his chest. She made a kind of hiccoughing sound and shook her head under his chin. He laughed lightly, "Shame. I think you'd look fucking amazing with some ink on this gorgeous body." He rubbed his growing dick against her ass.

"Don't they hurt?" she asked timidly as she took a couple of steps closer with Cullen still attached to her.

"Nah," Cullen replied dismissively. "Of course it depends where on your body you get it, but really it's more of a discomfort than a pain."

"Where did yours hurt most?"

"Under my bicep," he answered quickly. That fucker had smarted. The ones on his chest had been sore too, but Bella didn't need to know that. No fucker with a needle was going anywhere near her tits.

They stood and watched until the tattoo was complete. The girl looked at the finished product in the mirror that the artist handed her, exclaiming with colorful curse words just how much she liked it. She was more than pleased and beamed at Bella and Cullen as she walked out with her friends.

"Cullen?"

Both he and Bella stiffened in surprise and anxiety when his name came loudly and excitedly from behind them. Cullen turned slowly, hesitantly, but breathed a large sigh of relief when he saw who it was. He released Bella with a reassuring squeeze and smiled at the approaching red head.

"Tanya," he smiled when she reached him. She looked the same as she had the last time that he had seen her: gothic, sexy, and a little bit scary. They hugged and she kissed him quickly on the cheek. The silver ring in her bottom lipped grazed the side of his mouth.

"Long time no see," she said with a hand through her curly hair. The copious amount of bangles on her wrist jangled as she did. "I heard you were at Kill."

Cullen nodded and rolled his eyes. "I was. I've been out for a couple of months. How are you? Still inking the world one tramp stamp at a time?"

He laughed when she punched his arm playfully. "Fuck you," she laughed. "You didn't have a problem when the ink was on _your_ body!"

Cullen smiled and nodded. "True. That's because you're fantastic at what you do."

"Whatever," Tanya replied sarcastically as she scrunched her pierced nose. "So, are you here with Jake? I haven't seen his ass in forever either."

"Um…no," Cullen replied. He turned to see Bella standing looking more than a little awkward, and took her hand gently, pulling her towards his side. "I'm here with my…"

Fuck, what the hell was he meant to say? My Peaches. My Bella. My woman. My dream girl. The best sex I've ever had. My tutor?

He whipped a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. _Fuck._

"…my…_friend_, Bella Swan. Bella, this is Tanya. She did a few of my tattoos years ago."

Bella smiled at Tanya and held her hand out. "Nice to meet you," she offered. Cullen noticed a tightness along her jaw as she spoke.

"You too," Tanya answered with a large smile, eyeing Bella appreciatively. "Do you have any ink?"

Bella shook her head.

"Shame," Tanya said seriously, as she crossed her own tattooed arms over her chest. "You'd look great with ink."

Cullen snorted and raised his eyes at Bella in an _I-told-you-so_ gesture.

"Maybe one day," Bella conceded with narrowed but playful eyes towards Cullen.

"Well, if you do, give me a call," Tanya said, as she handed Bella a white card with her business name and phone number. "I'd love to be your first." Cullen smirked at Tanya's tone and shook his head.

"See you around, Cullen," Tanya chimed, as she kissed his other cheek and hugged him. "You know where I am if you want more." She winked and skipped back into the tent.

He smiled after her. Fucking Tanya. She'd never change. He looked down at Bella to see her looking out across the field, fingering the business card thoughtfully.

"You sure you can't be tempted?" he asked, while he tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"No. I'm good," she answered quietly. "Can we go now?"

Cullen frowned gently but nodded. "Sure, baby. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she replied slipping the card into her pocket. "I just want you to myself for a while. Is that okay?"

Cullen bent down and kissed her gently. "Bella, that's more than okay." He took her hand. "Let's get out of here."

=PoF=

The clouds had rolled in dark and thunderous by the time they had arrived back at the house. The pair of them ran and shouted laughing curses when the heavens opened above them and they skidded perilously down the porch to the front door as the rain lashed down onto them. A flash of lightening made Bella squeal as they finally made it into the house, making Cullen laugh loudly. Bella flipped him off and started removing her soaked clothes as her hair dripped down her face.

"I'm going to get changed," she said as she pulled off her sopping blazer and kicked off her boots.

"I'll come too," Cullen said with a waggle of his eyebrows as he turned on the lights and the heating.

Bella didn't answer and ran quickly up the stairs. Cullen, feeling slightly perplexed, followed after her when he had lit the large fire in the grate in the living room. She was in the bathroom when he arrived in the bedroom. Cullen couldn't help but feel that there was something wrong. She hadn't been herself since they had left the convention. Being unable to speak to her as they rode _Kala_ was a pain in the ass.

He thought back, trying to remember when she had become so quiet. _Shit_. Was she upset about the whole _'friend'_ thing? He pushed his hands into his hair. Jesus, talk about putting a guy on the fucking spot. What the hell was he meant to say to Tanya? He had no idea what label Bella wanted, or if she even wanted one at all. Girlfriend? He cringed slightly. That shit just sounded wrong.

With his worried eyes fixed on the bathroom door, he pulled off his jeans, shirt, and t-shirt and, after he had rubbed his wet hair with a towel, settled for his trusty grey sweats and a dark blue NYPD hoodie. The irony was not lost.

Bella reappeared not moments later in almost the exact same outfit. She looked up when Cullen chuckled. "We match," he stated. "But I have to confess that you look a hell of a lot fucking sexier than I do."

"I'm not sure about that," she replied as she dropped her wet clothes into a bag. Cullen watched her and sighed. She looked downhearted and that shit just would not do.

"So I was thinking," he said, as he approached her. "I've lit the fire in the living room, and I have a grotesque selection of DVDs, most of which you'll not even want to watch." He smiled when she did. "How about we just watch TV and get warm?"

She looked up at him and gradually placed her palm on his cheek. "That sounds great."

He wound his arms around her waist and bent at the knees so that he was eye level with her. "Is something bothering you? You look…pissed?"

The corners of her mouth twitched as though she wanted to say something before she smiled gently. "I'm fine. Just a little tired."

Cullen wasn't convinced, and felt the fingers of annoyance creep up his back. "It wasn't…I mean…You'd tell me though, right, if something was wrong?"

She paused for one split second before she nodded slowly. Cullen licked his lips, halting the desire to push her further. He knew that there was something going on, but he had to trust her that she would tell him when she was ready. He didn't like it, but fuck, what choice did he have? He didn't want to push her away, not when they had been having such a good time.

They made their way back downstairs and into the kitchen where Cullen grabbed a bottle of red wine and two glasses. It was a little before six-thirty but the clouds, and the thunderstorm that was taking place outside, had made the sky pitch back. Bella stood by the glass door as Cullen poured their drinks.

"I love listening to the rain and the wind when I'm nice and warm inside," she said quietly as thunder rumbled above them.

Cullen handed her, her glass, and looked out towards the rough sea. "Me too," he confessed before sipping his drink. "Gran and I would do that a lot here."

Bella looked up at him with gentle eyes, "Yeah?" Cullen kept his head forward but raised his eyebrows in answer. Bella's voice became low and somber. "Dad and I did too."

"The thunderstorms in the summer here were fucking crazy," Cullen added with a small smile. He gestured with his glass to the decking outside. "Gran and I would sit on the porch and watch it roll in, counting down the miles between each flash and each clap of thunder."

He sighed. "If it happened at night, we'd huddle in her bed and do the same thing. I knew she did it to stop me from being scared."

He felt his body relax when Bella leaned into him and kissed his chest through his hoodie. "Did it work?"

He looked down at her and kissed her forehead. "Yeah," he answered into her soft skin, "Every time."

After grabbing a shit load of nibbles and munchies from the cupboards and fridge, Bella took her seat on the sofa as Cullen fought with the DVD player. Bella laughed loudly when Cullen held up the disc case to show her what they would be watching. _Beetlejuice._

"I can't believe you have that film!" she exclaimed as he sat down and lifted her legs onto his lap. "Loser," she mumbled around a pretzel.

"It's fucking awesome," he deadpanned as he hit play on the remote. "Shut up."

The film, and Michael Keaton's _Beetlejuice_ enraptured Cullen_, _but all Isabella could do was watch him. She could see the child inside of him peak to the surface with each snort of laughter and roll of his eyes as the silly jokes came thick and fast. He looked so happy, comfortable, carefree, and he never once removed his right hand from her knee, circling it with the pad of his thumb while he drank, ate, and smoked with his left.

The connection was wonderful and allowed Isabella to reflect on the day that they had shared. She was struck dumb by his thoughtful gift and the ways in which he wanted to share himself with her. He had talked about his childhood and his experiences in prison with so much more ease than he previously had. Throughout the day, Isabella realized that he was still the same man she had fallen in love with only calmer, softer, playful, and more willing to open up to her. His trust and honesty with her was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed and her heart ached to tell him so. She let her eyes wander down Cullen's strong profile and felt heavy with the wave of emotion that she felt. _I love you_.

_Too fast, Isabella. You'll scare him away. _

In addition to that, there was the small matter of the completely sexy, tattooed, pierced vixen named Tanya, and Cullen's ridiculous stumbling to find a word to describe what Isabella was to him. They needed to discuss both, and soon. It wasn't that Isabella was mad at him, far from it. She knew that, when put on the spot, she would be hard pressed herself to find a word that would describe what he meant to her too, but the flirtatious banter between him and Tanya had been an eye opener in terms of Cullen's sexual past and the effect that he had on women as a whole.

Seriously, the bitches had been eye fucking the hell out of him as they had strolled around the cars and bikes at the convention. Isabella just kept reminding herself that he was with _her_ and that her hand in his back pocket was a flashing neon 'fuck off' sign to any and all wandering eyes. The possessiveness she felt had shocked the hell out of her and the jealousy that she tasted in her mouth was new, unwelcome, and completely unstoppable. She _was_ jealous of Tanya and her past with Cullen - whatever that may have been - and had fought with herself over the gratuitous images that flashed in her mind of the two of them together.

She knew that she was being ridiculous, but her brain simply would not stop. Jealousy was a new thing for Isabella to experience, and she did not like it. Not one bit.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there?" Cullen asked with his gaze still stuck on the TV, as he threw a peanut into his mouth.

"Nothin'," she answered quickly as she grabbed a handful of Pringles.

"Liar," Cullen smirked. He adjusted himself in his seat so that he was facing her. "What's up?"

Isabella shook her head and shrugged nonchalantly which only made Cullen smile wider.

"I have ways of making you talk, you know," he threatened with a sexy, wicked glint in his eyes.

He placed his wine glass on the side table and moved like a predator up onto his knees, pushing her legs apart, and moving her hoodie up off her stomach to her chest. With a smirk, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss above her belly button. Isabella sighed at the feel of his soft lips against her and ran her right hand through his thick hair. Like a cat, he leaned into her touch, but continued to kiss her gently.

His hands came up her sides and caressed slowly, his calloused fingers touching her as if she was precious and breakable. She closed her eyes.

"I love your hands and your mouth on me," Isabella confessed with a long breath.

"Mmm," Cullen hummed with his mouth pressed into her belly. "So much so that you'll tell me what the hell has been bugging you since we came back?"

Isabella smiled down at him and licked her lips as he moved up her body, placing kisses as he did.

"How do you know Tanya?" she asked quickly as her cheeks burned in embarrassment and annoyance at herself.

Cullen paused, placed one more kiss on her sternum, and rested his chin on top of it. His face looked slightly confused, but there was a glimmer of understanding in the green of his irises.

"Jake and I met her when we were kids. Her father was one of the best tattoo artists at the convention. Tanya learned her trade through him. We hung out in summer, got drunk, got up to shit. That's about it. After Tanya's dad died, she took over his business. She did some of my ink even though she didn't rate herself. She's amazing though, an awesome artist."

Isabella gave a tight-lipped smile and a quiet 'oh' and watched as Cullen's head bobbed on her stomach as she took a deep breath.

"Bella," he groaned in frustration as he moved up so that he was lying between her legs with his forearms at either side of her head. "What is it? Talk to me, baby." His face pinched suddenly as he exhaled. "Did you not enjoy today?"

"Of course!" Isabella cried instantly with wide sincere eyes. "It was fantastic, I loved it, it was so good, and I loved being with you, I…"

Cullen watched her carefully and played with the tips of her hair as it splayed on the sofa cushions. "Then what?" he asked.

Isabella swallowed and grimaced at her own verbal ineptitude. _Just ask for fuck's sake!_

"Did you and Tanya…ever…um, were you…together?"

Cullen cocked an eyebrow over confused eyes, "Tanya...and me?" he confirmed. "Were we _together_?"

Isabella squirmed, "Ye-yeah."

She was shocked as shit when he exploded with laughter and buried his face into her shoulder as he continued to snort and shake on top of her. Isabella was immediately incensed and, using all of her strength, pushed him off her with a shove and a curse. She stood from the sofa, pulling down her hoodie and pushing her hair back in aggravation.

"Don't laugh at me!" she fumed, but Cullen, who was now sitting up on the couch, could not hold in his snickers and chuckles.

"I'm not laughing _at_ you, Bella," he said through his laughter. "I'm laughing at the sheer fucking ridiculousness of what you just said!"

Isabella frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "And what's so damned ridiculous about it, huh?" she demanded. She felt her jealousy reach epic proportions. "She was kissing you, hugging you, she even offered you 'more', and I'm damn sure she didn't mean a-"

"Tanya is gay, Bella!" Cullen cried with a large smile and open palms at his sides.

Isabella froze with her accusatory pointer finger stuck in mid-air. "What?"

Cullen's slouched back onto the sofa and sighed. "Tanya is gay," he repeated with another chuckle. "She doesn't like cock, baby. She likes pussy."

_Well, don't I feel like a fucking idiot?_

"Oh," she muttered. Isabella dropped her hand quickly and shoved both of them into the front pouch of her hoodie. She had the sudden childish urge to pull up the hood and hide.

"Bella," Cullen smirked as he sat forward with his ass on the edge of the couch. "Tanya was eyeing you up like a fucking piece of meat. She was interested in you, not me." His gaze traveled down her body. "Not that I can fucking blame her. I mean, just look at you."

Bella shifted from foot to foot as Cullen continued to stare at her. He felt awful for laughing and making her mad, but, shit, the fact that she seemed so affected by Tanya's behavior with him made him harder than hell. He was officially sick. He had to ask…

"Bella," he growled. "Were you jealous?"

_Please say yes! Please say yes!_

She dropped her chin and toed the rug beneath her feet. "I…it was just…"

"Bella?" Cullen sang with a cocky expression.

"Yes, okay!" Bella exploded. "I was jealous. There. I said it!"

She slapped her hands to her thighs as words began to tumble from her.

"I was fucking jealous. I didn't like her touching you or kissing you or flirting with you."

She didn't stop for breath.

"I don't care if she's gay or not, she had her hands on you and I didn't like it, I hated it, in fact, because you. Are. Mine! You are mine to touch and kiss, and fuck. No one else's! Mine!"

Cullen sat staring at her with an open mouth and a cock that was so hard he was sure that it could stop a fucking freight train. Never had he heard such sexy, angry, passionate words in his life. He fell back onto the sofa with a wanton groan, showing off his generous erection in his sweats.

"Fuck, Bella," he grunted as his eyes closed briefly. "You have no idea…fuck, baby, say that shit again."

Bella blinked at him in surprise and looked longingly at the tent that he was pitching. "What?"

"About me being yours," he answered as he pushed his hand slowly into his pants and grabbed hold of his dick. "Say. It. Again."

He watched as a spark of lust ignited in her eyes, making his cock twitch eagerly in his fist.

"You're mine," she purred. Cullen grunted and rubbed his cock harder, "Only mine." She cocked a seductive eyebrow to where his hand was. "Get your hand out of there," she ordered.

Cullen momentarily froze, but did as he was told, sliding his hand back out of his sweats. That authoritative teacher voice she used was enough to make him cum on the damned spot. His balls tightened from her tone alone. Fuck, it was hot.

"Take your top off," she said firmly.

Cullen whipped the fucking thing off over his head so quick that he nearly ripped his ears off. He sat, bare-chested, heaving breaths, waiting for the spectacular creature before him to do with him what the hell she fucking wanted. He moaned deep in the back of his throat when she too removed her hoodie, leaving her tits bare and her nipples hard and aching for his mouth.

"Beautiful," he murmured. He pushed his hands against his thighs and shifted in his seat.

"You're mine tonight," she murmured as she rubbed a hand across her stomach.

Cullen licked his lips.

"You do what I say, when I say it. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good."

He took a deep breath and watched her saunter towards him. She oozed sexiness and grace, and the color of her soft, alabaster skin against the dim lighting made him want to lick her from head to fucking toe. His stomach and chest were once again high jacked by the heavy weightlessness that had appeared earlier that day. He embraced it unashamedly and let his head loll back as Bella slowly straddled his waist and assaulted his mouth with hers. He moaned. Fuck, he moaned so loudly as their lips puckered, pinched, and claimed one another.

_Have me._ _Take me. I'm yours._

He smiled when she grabbed his wandering hands and pushed them to the sides of his head on the back of the couch.

"No touching," she warned and gave a delicious swivel of her hips against his solid cock.

"Jesus," he hissed and knotted his fingers through hers.

The sensation of her naked chest rubbing against his was incredible. Her nipples shifted as she did, etching his skin with invisible lines of ownership, just as her mouth declared possession with every flick of her tongue and suck of his lips. He lifted his own hips, pushing his cock against her warmth, and growled when she bit down on his bottom lip in punishment.

"Be good," she whispered.

"I want you," he breathed as he licked at her throat.

"And you'll have me, but I'm having you first." Bella pushed his hands further into the back of the couch. "Keep these to yourself."

She kissed him one last time before she moved back and knelt down on the floor between his legs. "Lift."

_Sweet Jesus._

Cullen lifted his ass off the sofa so that Bella could pull his sweats down. She pulled them off his ankles and threw them to the side. Kneeling up between his legs, she let her pointer finger run up the underside of his dick making it twitch like fuck.

"Shit," he murmured as his hands fisted at his sides, desperate to touch her fucking anywhere.

"This," she purred as she blew warm air across the wet head of his cock. "Is mine."

"God."

"Tell me, Cullen. Who does your cock belong to?"

"You," he groaned as she dipped her tongue into his slit. His back arched. "Fuck, fuck. You, Peaches. _Please_."

With a small smile that reeked of power, Bella took hold of the base of his erection and took his entire length into hot, wet mouth.

"Motherfuck!" Cullen cried out with his head back, his eyes clenched shut, and his teeth grinding so hard that his jaw hurt, "Ah, God!"

Bella's mouth engulfed him entirely. Sweet, divine, lips and tongue caressed and seduced his cock in ways he had never experienced. _Heaven. This is fucking heaven._ He hissed and grunted when she sucked so hard her cheeks hollowed out and groaned when her teeth grazed the sides of his throbbing length.

"So good, Bella. Fuck, that feels so…_damn_ good." A disbelieving cough of laughter left his chest as she sucked harder, wetter, deeper. Her lips looked insane around him: spread, pink, and conjuring his orgasm from him like a fucking magician.

"Your mouth, baby…_ah_…you look so good with your mouth on my cock. _Fuck_."

He began panting as she increased the speed at which her mouth devoured him, opening her throat so that she could take even more of him into her, pushing her nose into the hairs at the base of his cock.

"Bel-…_uh_…I'm getting really close, sweetheart."

His heart pounded in his chest, his forehead was damp with sweat, and his fingers squeaked against the leather of the couch as he gripped on to it for dear life. He wanted nothing more than to bury his fingers into her hair, but he knew the rules. He hated the rules. He fucking _loved_ to hate the rules. Bella's dark, gorgeous eyes stared up at him willing him to cum, demanding it from him, and he could do nothing but oblige.

The heat spread from his cock into his balls and gathered deep in his stomach as he looked down at her. "Fuck."

Her small hand gripped him tighter and rubbed the parts of him that were not in her mouth. Cullen's thigh muscles tensed. "Goddamnit, Bella!"

She hummed and stroked his balls, cupping them and squeezing them in just the right way. Cullen's spine straightened and his hips bucked, "Uh, yeah, _yeah_."

She swirled her tongue and groaned when he twitched in her mouth. "Gonna…"

She moved faster, sucked harder, hummed louder. _Oh fuck, so good._

"Bella…_Bella_…fuck, fuck…"

Then the tip of his cock touched the back of her throat…_Shitshitshit_…and Cullen roared in his release. Pulses of pleasure ripped through him as his hips rotated while stream after stream of his cum disappeared down her exquisite throat. He panted, moaned, and gasped for air as his entire body shuddered in ecstasy, until, breaking the rules; he held her face, stilling her and her incredible mouth.

She released him with one more languid lick and sat back on her heels, smiling like a kid on Christmas. She wiped her lips with her fingers, and picked up her glass of wine. Taking a small sip, her stare never left his as Cullen tried to get his breath back.

"I swear to God," he gasped through heavy lidded eyes. "You're…" He shook his head as words escaped him. "Bella, your mouth needs a fucking award or some shit."

She laughed and put her glass down, "The _Cullen-Cock Champ_ award?"

Cullen laughed and rubbed his hands down his face. "Something like that, baby, yeah." He looked down at her in wonder and let the tips of his fingers trace her mouth. "Thank you. That was _amazing_."

"You're welcome," she replied.

Cullen didn't miss the fact that her thighs rubbed together and her bottom lip disappeared seductively between her teeth.

"Is it your turn now?" he asked as his hand moved from her lips to her right breast, fingering her tight nipple. She moaned softly and closed her eyes.

"God, Cullen, I want to fuck you," she whispered, sending sparks of lust down Cullen's half limp cock. "I want to show you…I want…I want to fuck you _so_ hard."

_Fucking Christ._

Cullen swallowed and sucked a breath through his teeth. "God, Bella, I want that too," he growled as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He glanced down at his dick, willing some life back into it.

Ironically, Bella had sucked it all out.

"But you might have to give me a minute," he grimaced.

"No," Bella said firmly as her eyes snapped open. She stood suddenly, forcefully, and pushed her sweat pants to the floor so that they pooled around her feet.

"Dear God," Cullen whimpered, feeling slightly intimidated by the naked, domineering goddess before him. He was in awe.

"If I can't fuck your cock," she said as she began to straddle him again. She bent her head to his ear and flicked his lobe with her tongue. "I'll just have to fuck your fingers."

Cullen smiled as she kissed him. He gripped her hips and pulled her down so that his semi rubbed her pussy. She was soaked. "_Shit._ Did you like sucking my cock, Peaches?"

"Oh, yeah," she replied as she gripped his right wrist and moved his hand between her legs. "You taste so fucking delicious. Feel how much I liked it."

As three of his fingers slipped easily between her pussy lips and they moaned in unison, the lights in the house flickered. The storm was still rolling outside, sending electric charges through both Cullen and his Bella. He circled her clit and dipped the tip of his middle finger into her. Hot. Wet. _Sublime._

"Fuck," she whispered as her head fell back and Cullen licked up her throat. "Put your fingers in me, Cullen. Let me feel them."

Holding his breath, Cullen did as she asked, slipping two fingers into her, slow and deep. Jesus, she felt perfect. Her pussy gripped his digits, sucking on them as her mouth had done to his cock while sending Cullen's need for her through the roof.

"Move with me, baby," he bit out in a staggered breath as he grabbed her hip. "Fuck my fingers."

Bella moaned and began to move over him. She clutched his shoulders and rocked forwards and back, sucking in air and blowing it warm and sweet across Cullen's face. He cupped her cheek and pulled her mouth roughly to his, grunting when their lips met. She tasted of wine, sex, and desire. Their foreheads pressed together as they panted into each other's mouths, breathing each other in. Bella's eyes seared into Cullen's in a way that he had never seen before.

Her gaze was so intense that all the air in the room seemed to disappear.

_I can't breathe._

"Cullen," she whispered desperately as a loud clap of thunder rocked the house.

"What, Bella?" he asked as his thumb circled her clit making her hips jerk. But she didn't answer. She simply closed her eyes and moaned long and deep. Cullen looked down at his hand between her legs and groaned when he saw it shining with her need for him.

"You look so fucking fine," he mumbled.

Incredibly, his cock throbbed in agreement, firm, ready for more, and glistening at the tip. Keeping his fingers moving inside of her, Cullen gripped his dick and lifted Bella with his hand tight on her waist.

"Let me in," he murmured into her shoulder as she shifted, instantly knowing what he wanted. What he needed. He pulled his drenched fingers from her and immediately pressed the head of himself into her heat. "Oh."

"Yes," Bella hissed as she pushed down onto him, taking him in with small thrusts and slow rotations of her pelvis.

It was a snug fit. Fucking Christ, it was a perfect fit.

Bella held Cullen's shoulders. "Ah…ah, shit."

The growl that came from Cullen's chest was animalistic in its intensity. Bella's ass met his thighs, surrounding him, and he rubbed his palms down the curves of her waist and hips. His fingertips pressed into her flesh, and his mouth found the nipple of her left tit. He sucked. He sucked and he moaned into her as she began to move up and down him, slick and needy.

Her hands buried themselves into her hair and pulled hard, making him moan and bite down. "Fuck yes," she cried out.

Cullen had never seen Bella this way before. She was a fucking vision. She moved over him, in control, dominating and hard, leaving him breathless and at her mercy. There was something in her eyes when she looked at him. It was a passionate fire that made his heart race and his hips thrust, and, when their mouths met, the fire between them simply got hotter and more powerful. Cullen groaned and rambled as she moved her hips faster.

"God, Bella…God, Bella, ah…fuck me, _yes_, baby."

Bella grabbed his face in her palms and kissed him. Her tongue plunged into his mouth seeking his out, and, when it did, she sucked that shit straight into hers. Cullen wrapped his arms around her back and drove up into her, lifting his hips from the couch. She was fucking him and it felt incredible, but he needed deeper.

"Mine," she gasped as he did it again. She cupped his face. "Tell me you're mine, Cullen."

"Yes, Bella."

"Say it."

"I'm yours."

"_Fuck_."

Cullen gripped her ass, helping her move, feeling his body start to tense all over again. Being inside her was bliss. Being inside her was…fuck, he was home. The sound of her flesh slapping his was amazing, and he instinctively pushed his hand between them both and began to rub the hell out of her clit.

"Yes," she breathed as she kissed him again. "Yes. Edw-…Oh, _God_."

"This," he groaned as he felt her pussy begin to tighten around him. "Is _mine_."

He moved his fingers faster and thrust harder, feeling the sweat run down his stomach and down his back that Bella was scouring with her nails.

"I _am_ yours," she panted, as she stared into his eyes, "Yours."

The fervor in her stare and the passion in her voice made Cullen shiver. A sudden realization struck him. It felt different. The two of them together felt different. It was raw, naked, mind blowing fucking, but so much more surrounded it. The desperation between them was so thick in the air that Cullen could almost taste it and the way that Bella clasped him so tightly to her made his entire body burst into flames.

"Can you feel it?" she gasped in his left ear as she moved harder making Cullen's eyes roll.

"Yes," he answered as he kissed her damp shoulder. "I feel it. Goddamn, what is it?"

He felt her smile into his cheek. "It's us, baby. It's just you and me."

Cullen moaned and licked her jaw. "You're gonna make me cum," he confessed huskily in her ear.

He'd tried to hold it off, he tried so damned hard, but her words and the way in which her pussy held him were making every attempt futile.

"Me too," she groaned. "You feel so good, Cullen. You make me feel _so_ good." She slammed down onto him again. "Mine," she whispered again as their lips brushed together.

"Yours, Peaches."

_Have all of me._

Cullen let her move, losing himself in the sensations that her body stirred up in him.

The wetness, the heat, the pounding heart that was almost bursting from his chest.

The gasps, the moans, the orgasm that teetered on the brink of oblivion.

And then she was crying out for him, gripping him, clenching around him.

"Cullen!" His hips drove upwards. "Oh fuck, I'm coming!"

_Yes. I live for this. Cum on me. Cum around me._

"Your cum is mine," he groaned.

"Yes." Their lips met again, hungry and wet, "Yours," she mumbled almost incoherently. "I'm yours." She tilted her hips and dropped down him again.

"Bella!"

"Yours."

"Fuck, baby."

Her arms wrapped around his neck tightly as she whimpered and gasped for air, "Now. Now. Oh. _Oh_."

"Please…I can't…," he begged as his balls lifted and his grip on her increased one hundred fold.

She held him closer. Their left cheeks pressed together as they moved. "There. Right there."

But it was too late. Cullen's neck corded as his orgasm blasted through him like a rocket, and smothered his entire body in white heat.

"Goddamn! Bella! Fuck!" His hips and cock pummeled her pussy while his hands held her down to him.

"Edward," she screamed out as she exploded around him, bucking, and writhing in his lap. "Edward. Oh God_. I love you_!"

And suddenly, with a giant flash of lightening and a deafening clap of thunder, the room was plunged into darkness.

Coming to a gradual stop, the two of them stayed wrapped around one another, their heavy, labored breaths filling the living room, now only lit by the still roaring log fire. Cullen's eyes opened slowly as the echo of Bella's words reverberated off the walls and around his brain, and blinked in…amazement. Shock. Disbelief.

Bella had not moved from her spot on his lap. Her knotted arms remained around his neck and her face pressed heavily against his. Her breathing in Cullen's ear was epically loud and stuttered with every inhalation. He daren't move. He daren't speak, but fuck he _had_ to say something. His brain was moving at a thousand miles a minute and he was damn sure he could feel her heart pounding in time with his.

Her heart. _She…loves me…?_

He moved the thumb of his left hand minutely, touching the slight ridges of her spine and took a deep breath. "Bell-"

"Shhh," she interrupted instantly in a quiet, anxious voice. He could feel her shaking her head next to his. "Just…_shhh_…don't…don't say anything."

He made to move his head so that he could look at her but she held him fast. "Don't move. Just…_please_."

Cullen frowned in confusion, but did as she asked. He continued to hold her in the same position, cocooned in her warmth. He sighed in aggravation when she kept silent and still. Why the hell was she so quiet? Maybe she was in shock. Maybe she regretted saying those words to him. Maybe it was a simple spur-of-the-moment thing inspired by the amazing sex that they had just had. Maybe she didn't mean it…

Astonishingly, Cullen's heart paused and gave a giant thump at that particular thought.

"Bella," he whispered. She didn't answer, "Bella, please."

"I'm sorry," she whispered shakily into his ear. "I'm so sorry."

Cullen swallowed hard and felt his lungs squeeze worryingly in his chest. "What are you sorry for?"

He heard her sniff and tried to move his head to look at her, but she was too damned strong, and he was unable to move.

"Bella," he admonished. "Look at me."

"I can't."

"Why the fuck not?" he asked in exasperation.

"Because I…I can't…I shouldn't have…"

At the sound of the words that sent chills up Cullen's spine, he gripped Bella's wrists from around his neck and pulled them away hard, keeping her body close to him with his left hand on her right cheek. His gaze wandered over her face in question.

_Did she really mean it?_

He saw that she was crying, and her face looked pained, and he immediately felt like he had a huge rock lodged in his fucking gut. He couldn't explain it, but he suddenly felt…_empty_.

He smoothed her damp hair from her face and licked his lips. "What shouldn't you have done?"

If it was a slip of the tongue - so to speak - then he wanted to hear her say it. As masochistic as it sounded, if Bella had said those words and not meant them, he _had_ to know. This shit was serious. Even _he_ understood that. He wanted to believe her, he really truly did, but so many things in his mind made him doubt her words. He hated that there was any doubt at all, but he couldn't help it. He'd been programmed that way: to be suspicious and untrusting. He rubbed his hands down his face, trying his damndest to rid himself of the uncertainty that coursed through him.

Bella looked down at where they were still connected, and covered her features with her hands. "I shouldn't have…said that. I'm sorry."

Cullen slumped slightly as he watched her wipe at the tears that had fallen and let his hands drop to his sides in defeat. Jesus, he had never felt so desolate, and he had no idea why. He watched her, feeling the usually warm sensation in his chest suddenly turn cold.

"It's alright," he said in a low, rough voice. "It happens."

He had no idea if it did, but he wanted to try to make her feel better.

He didn't notice the expression on her face when she lifted her head, as he looked across the room to the fire. The storm was still rumbling above them and the electricity was still off.

"What happens?" Bella asked quietly as she pressed her palm tenderly in the centre of his chest.

Keeping his eyes on the flickering flames, he answered: "I'm sure people say stuff like that a lot. You know, when they get carried away in the moment." There was a second of complete silence where he felt Bella tense in his arms.

Cullen's eyes closed briefly when her hand touched his chin, bringing his face around to hers.

"You think I got lost in the moment?" she asked softly, dipping her chin in question. He shrugged.

_Why else would you have said it to me?_

Bella's face seemed to crumble with emotion as she looked into his eyes. She shook her head slowly from side to side and cleared her throat. "Edward, I didn't get carried away."

His body shivered when his first name fell from her lips. It never sounded as good as it did when she said it. He eyed her warily. He really didn't want her to see the inner turmoil that he was experiencing for her to then speak those words simply because she felt _sorry_ for him. _Fuck that_. He didn't want her pity. He wanted… Fuck, he had no idea what he wanted.

He held her stare searching for any hint of a lie, but all her beautiful eyes told him was the truth.

"You didn't?" he asked.

Her head continued to shake from side to side as she mouthed silently: 'No.'

Cullen's lungs all at once felt too small and his heart began a rapid sprint around his chest. He breathed heavy and shallow, trying to regain thought and the ability to speak. _She…loves me…_

"Wh-" Cullen's throat closed around the word. He paused. Swallowed, and tried again. "If you weren't caught up in the moment," he muttered. "Why are you sorry?"

Bella's chin dropped to her chest while her fingertips drew invisible circles around Cullen's belly button. She stayed quiet for an age, driving Cullen beyond distraction.

Eventually, she opened her mouth to speak. "I'm sorry because…I didn't want to say it…that way. I didn't know if you'd _want_ to hear it. I was…afraid that you'd…_not_ want to hear it." Gradually she brought her head up and looked him straight in the eye. She stole his breath away. "I didn't want to say it while we were…together this way."

Cullen frowned in utter confusion. "Why?"

"Because it's…cliché…tacky," she rubbed her face in aggravation. "I don't know. I'm just sorry that I-"

"Bella," Cullen interrupted as he grabbed her hands and shifted her back slightly, sliding her off his spent, wet cock. He pulled her hands to his chest, clasping them over his heart, and looked at her gorgeous face.

"Did…" He sighed, collecting himself. "Did you mean it?"

His own voice sounded so foreign to him. Small. He felt so fucking small. He felt tiny and weak. Breakable.

Bella's forehead dropped to his and she exhaled loudly, shuddering against him.

"Yes," she whispered. "I meant it, Edward." She placed a soft kiss on his open mouth, "With everything that I am, I meant it."

Isabella kissed Cullen again, feeling the air leave his lungs in one large stuttered wave. His hands that were now on her waist were tight, almost hurting, but she couldn't have cared less, saying those three words to him - as scary and unexpected as it was - made her whole body feel weightless.

His potential reaction to them had her petrified and unable to move or speak, until she heard the hope in his voice and saw the trust in his eyes. He could barely speak himself, but when he did, he simply did it to confirm that what she had said was true.

And it was.

She loved him with every part of herself, inside and out, good and bad, past and present.

"Bella," he murmured as he held her face gently in his large palms. "I…_want_ to hear it." He shook his head in bewilderment. "I didn't know how much until I heard it just now. Don't ever be sorry about saying…that."

"But I _am_ sorry-…"

He cut her off again with a searing kiss that made her toes curl and her heart race. It was filled with passion, gratitude, and a long moan that came from his throat. Isabella gripped the back of his head and lost herself in the sensation of his perfect mouth on hers. He _wanted_ to hear her say that she loved him. He _wanted_ her to love him. Isabella's body shuddered and folded into him in relief.

"Can I tell you something?" Cullen asked quietly as their lips separated.

"Anything."

He fingered the ends of her hair absentmindedly as they lay haphazardly across her bare skin. "No-one…" He shook his head as his eyes lowered in awkwardness. Cullen was _never_ awkward.

"Cullen?" Isabella said softly, encouraging him to continue.

"Bella…you're the first person…the first person in my _whole_ fuckin' life to ever say those words to me."

Isabella blinked at him in shock and absolute heartbreak. "What?" she whispered.

He didn't repeat what he had said, knowing that she had heard him perfectly well. He simply slid the backs of his fingers tenderly down her flushed cheek.

"But your family," she began, garnering an amused and sardonic expression from him. Okay. Of _course_ not, "Your grandmother?" she hedged, "Friends?"

Cullen's eyes dropped to her mouth. "I was always 'precious' to Gran, and she _did_ love me, but she never said the words. And my friends…? Well," he chuckled softly. "We're not exactly the huggy, affectionate types as you may have noticed."

How could that possibly be? How could the beautiful, splendid, sensitive man before her never have heard anyone tell him that he was loved? What kind of parents would allow that? How could he have lived for so long with no one telling him how special he was, how unique, and wonderful?

"Cullen," Isabella breathed as she kissed him again. "I'm so sorry. I'm…" But she was without words.

"Don't be sorry, Bella, for God's sake," he urged. He looked at her and smiled gently. "Christ, hearing those words from _you_…fuck…it doesn't matter where or _how_ you said it, baby." He kissed her soundly, taking her bottom lip into his mouth. "What matters is that you said it at all."

Her heart fractured for him and for the little boy that she knew was smiling down on them from the photographs on the walls as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close.

With her lips by his ear, she whispered once more. "I love you."

He squeezed her and groaned softly into her neck.

"Bella," he murmured as he placed a gentle kiss on her throat. "Thank you for being my first."

_I want to be your only. _She sighed and buried her nose into his hair.

"Thank you for being mine," she replied. Cullen sat back slightly, looking at her in question. "I've told people that I love them before," she clarified. "You know family and stuff. But…I've never…felt_ this_ way…about anyone, Cullen," she explained timidly. She shifted nervously.

Was she saying too much? Would he run away screaming in fear? Did he have any idea at all, about how much she cared for him?

Cullen's face broke into a smile that could have lit up the entire beach, "Really?"

Isabella paused before nodding. "Never," she affirmed.

His face became calm, almost serene. "Wow." Cullen licked his lips and leaned his head back against the back of the couch, while keeping his large, green eyes firmly on Isabella's.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered. "You know that, right?"

Isabella blushed and smiled gently at him. "You make me feel beautiful," she countered.

He continued to stare at her. The serene look began to fade and gradually morphed into disquiet and worry. Occasionally his mouth would open to speak, but he would close it again quickly and exhale loudly. Isabella wondered what it was that he was trying to say, but remained silent as he continued to war with himself about…something.

Due to the unexpected emergence of those three little words, Isabella had not had a chance to consider whether Cullen would say them back, or that he felt enough for her to warrant even thinking them. That's not at all why she had said it, of course, or why she loved him in the first place. She had said them because the intensity of their lovemaking had forced them out of her. As they had moved together, crying out, panting, and gasping, her orgasm had started to rise relentlessly through her body, as did the emotions and the words that accompanied it.

There was no stopping either. Like a volcano, the passion and yearning for Cullen that had been bubbling below the thin surface of her skin, had finally erupted.

Slowly, as not to startle him, Isabella leaned forward and rested her cheek against his chest. Listening to his heartbeat, she knew that it didn't matter whether he loved her back or whether he could tell her so. She knew that he had never uttered those words to anyone, being denied them himself, so to expect anything from him was expecting too much.

Being in his arms, for Isabella, was more than enough.

"It's okay," she soothed as she ran her palms down his sides. "Stop over thinking it." She felt his body shake gently with laughter.

He kissed her hair. "You know me so well."

"I do," she agreed. She sat up and looked at him. She could see the battle in his eyes: the fear, and the anxiety. Her heart squeezed for him. She placed her hand on his cheek. "I didn't say it to hear it back, sweetheart. It's okay."

"Bella-"

"No, Cullen, really, I don't need you to say it. And I don't want you to think that you have to." She stroked his face making his eyes close slowly. "It's okay."

His eyes gradually reopened and he stared up at her; the lines of worry that etched his face eased as he did. His voice was barely audible when he spoke. "_Why_ do you love me, Peaches?"

The absolute incomprehension in his expression almost crippled her. He really had no idea. Isabella inhaled deeply and trailed her thumb across his full bottom lip as thunder crashed above the house.

"I love you because…you are…_very_ special." She leaned down and kissed his right cheek. "You saved my life." She kissed his left. "You are generous." His nose. "Caring." His right eye. "Sensitive." His left. "Loyal." His top lip. "Passionate." His bottom lip. "And you are, without doubt, the most beautiful man I have ever seen."

Cullen closed his eyes and rested his forehead on her chin. His breathing was becoming erratic, panicked. He grabbed for her and gasped. "Bella, I…I…I feel…fuck…hold m-…I can't breathe."

She held him close and wound her fingers through his hair as he nuzzled her neck. "Shhh, it's alright, baby." Her palm caressed his back in large circles. She closed her eyes and hummed softly. "It's alright. I've got you."

He panted, shuddered, and struggled for breath, mumbling incoherent word into her skin. Isabella, ignoring the alarm that was rising in her own body, focused entirely on calming him down. With him still in her arms, Cullen's breathing eventually began to slow and his grip on her loosened. "I need to show you something," he said suddenly, lifting his head sharply. "I have to show you how…why I…there's more…I…"

Isabella nodded as he tried to calm himself. "Breathe, Cullen." She held his face. "Show me whatever you want. I'm not going anywhere."

He lifted her quickly from his lap. Once Isabella saw that he was okay, she hurried with her clothes to the downstairs bathroom, cleaned herself up, and made it back to him in time for him to wrap a large blanket around her shoulders. He had a flashlight in his hand and a small smile on his face.

He was breathing better, and the wild panicked look in his eyes had diminished. He held out his hand for her. "Come with me."

Isabella placed her hand in his palm and let him lead her up the stairs and along the corridor. He came to a stop outside the third door along from the room they had been staying in, and put his hand on the handle. He paused before he turned it and pushed the door open. It creaked loudly, as though it hadn't been used for a long time, and Isabella was hit with a rush of cold air and a musty, aged smell. She wrapped the blanket closer around her shoulders and stepped tentatively into the room behind Cullen.

With only the flashlight in the room, and the sporadic glimpse of the moon through the storm clouds outside, it was hard to see much. It was a small room decorated with dark wallpaper, interrupted only by posters of cars and baseball players. A corkboard hung by the closet, covered in drawings and ticket stubs. White dustsheets hid the furniture, and the small bed was unmade with the mattress bare and unused. Isabella turned to face Cullen who was looking at her patiently.

"This was your room," she stated. He nodded and looked around, moving the flashlight over the walls.

"I didn't take the pictures down," he explained pausing on a picture of a Triumph. "I just…I didn't want to."

They both remained quiet until Cullen moved his arm around her shoulders and guided her to the bed where she sat down. He ran his hand through her hair once before he moved over to the closet. He mumbled and cursed when he opened it and started to pull out boxes of different sizes. He riffled through them slowly, kneeling on the floor next to them, until he pulled out a small book held together with a rubber band.

He stood and moved back towards Isabella, sitting down next to her with a long breath. He placed the book on Isabella's now crossed legs and kept his stare on it as though it were a bomb set to detonate. Isabella moved her hand to Cullen's right knee and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"What is this?" she asked keeping her eyes on Cullen's face.

Cullen scratched his chin with the side of his thumb and smiled sheepishly. "It's…kind of a…diary," he stuttered. "It sounds fucking stupid, I know, but after…" He paused and looked up at Isabella. "I just think it'll explain"-he gestured with his hand towards his chest in a circular movement-"things better."

"You want me to read it?"

"Yeah. I want you to read it…and…" He laughed humorlessly. "Fuck, Bella, I don't know…"

His nervousness and his inability to explain made Isabella uneasy.

"Okay," Isabella whispered and placed a kiss on his cheek.

She pulled the rubber band off the book, as Cullen opened the small bedroom window and sparked a cigarette. The glow of the embers on his face made him look otherworldly. Isabella placed the rubber band on the bed and cautiously opened the front cover.

What she saw made her blink in astonishment and suck in a quick breath of shock.

Her head snapped up to Cullen who looked slightly apologetic. She opened her mouth but found that she was unable to speak. Stuck untidily on the first page was an article reporting the death of one Senator Charles Swan. There was a black and white picture of him and Isabella's mother taken on the day of his election. He looked so happy and so handsome. Renee looked beautiful too.

Isabella's eyes skimmed the article quickly, knowing what she would find; the details that she would read. Words jumped out at her in the flashlight beam: _'horrifying', 'distraught', 'brain hemorrhage'_. She swallowed hard and let her fingertips slide over her daddy's face.

Gingerly, making sure that she didn't damage the yellowing paper, Isabella turned the page. There were more articles detailing the funeral, the foundation that had been set up in her father's honor, and the events that Renee had attended in Charles' memory. Isabella noticed in each grainy picture of her mother that she seemed to age and the beauty and radiance that had been so noticeable in the first picture had all but disappeared.

Isabella's heart clenched and her eyes pricked with tears. As her eyes moved over the article, Isabella suddenly realized that every time her own name appeared it was either underlined or circled. It was the same on all the articles, including the first.

Silently, and feeling Cullen's stare burn into her, she continued through the book, glancing at the articles that he had collected. She stopped when she came to a page covered in spidery handwriting. The first date was a month after Isabella's father had died.

_I dreamed of _her_ again. Every time I close my eyes, _she's_ there. She haunts me and I don't know why. Ever since that night she has been inside of my brain. I wish I could scoop her out like Gran used to do with the chocolate ice cream out of the freezer, but then…I think maybe I would miss her. Maybe._

Two weeks later: _I smelled her today. I was with Jake and we walked past a guy with a fruit stall. Peaches. Sweet peaches. _Her_ hair smelled of peaches. I bought some. Jake called me a weirdo. I think he's right._

Two days later: _I am crazy. I know I am. I saw her. I know I did. But it's impossible._

Christmas: _Dad and I argued. He called me ungrateful. I called him a prick. He found my smokes. I lay on my bed and closed my eyes and I saw her and smelled her hair again. Fucking crazy, right? It calmed me down. I think that, if I helped her that night then maybe she wouldn't mind that I use her this way. Maybe she wouldn't care. Maybe she doesn't even remember me._

Isabella continued to read. The passages were small, no more than five lines each, but gargantuan in their significance. She felt the hand that covered her open, disbelieving mouth become wet, at the same time that the bed moved as Cullen sat down next to her. He didn't touch her, but wrapped his arms around the knees that he pulled to his chest. He was uncharacteristically still at her side.

New Year: _I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,-_

_A stage, where every man must play a part;_

_And mine a sad one._

February: _In Belmont is a lady richly left,_

_And she is fair, fairer than the word,_

_Of wondrous virtues._

"Cullen," Isabella choked as she read the words from _The Merchant of Venice_. She heard him curse at himself.

"I'm sorry, Bella…fuck, I knew I shouldn't have…I just wanted you to understand." He ran his hands through his hair in agitation.

Isabella looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. "What did you want me to understand?" she asked gently. She needed him to explain. Having the book before her and reading his deepest thoughts was almost too much. The fact that they were all about her was mind-blowing.

He took a deep breath and slowly took the book from her hand. He flicked through it, smiling wryly at some of his words, and closing his eyes at others.

"That night, Bella," he started quietly. "The night...we met. That night was the longest, most terrifying night of my life." He looked at her and smiled. "But I wouldn't change it, not for a fucking thing."

He looked back at his diary. "I started this when I was eleven years old, Bella. Sixteen years ago. I saw you. I pulled you down the street, and held you while you cried for your dad." His voice seemed far away to Isabella's ears. "Do you remember me holding you?"

Isabella nodded and wiped at her tears with the sleeve of her hoodie.

"Your smell," he continued as his eyes flickered to her hair. "Bella, your smell was…it was like it took over my brain. I couldn't think about anything else. It calmed me when I was ready to kill my fucking father, and, even when I was at Arthur Kill, I would go back to that night and think about you. Those were the nights that I slept the soundest."

He put the book to his side and clasped her hands in his. "I don't want to freak you out with this shit, I really don't, but hearing you say those words, and not being able to say them back…" He shook his head. He looked so despondent, so worn that Isabella couldn't help but place her palm on his face to soothe him.

"I hoped that this would help you see," he added quietly, hopefully.

"You didn't freak me out," she murmured honestly. "You took my breath away."

He leaned into her touch and gazed back at her. "Do you understand? Do you understand what you_ are_ to me?"

Isabella's throat filled with too much emotion for her to answer him.

"When Tanya asked me who you were today," he said with a crooked smile. "I didn't have a fucking clue what to say to her."

Isabella laughed lightly through her tears and nodded.

"I went through a dozen labels, including 'my girlfriend', but that just…doesn't seem _big_ enough, Bella." His face scrunched to show his dislike of the word. "And I couldn't say 'my Peaches' because that shit is mine alone."

Isabella nodded in total agreement. She was _his_ and his alone completely.

"Bella," he whispered as he pulled her closer. Their foreheads touched and Cullen closed his eyes.

"I don't know what will happen, baby. When we get back to the city…I have no clue. But I do know that I want no-one else but you. I want to be with you for as long as you'll have me. I want more night's like this one, and I want to be able to walk down the street holding your hand knowing that, for once in my life, every other fucker envies me and what I have."

Isabella clutched his hoodie in her fists. "You have it, Cullen. I'm yours," she said through tears. "You have me. I love you."

Cullen pulled her into his arms, as she wrapped herself around him, and whispered into her neck. "You're everything to me, Peaches. You always have been. _Always._ You're the best thing I have ever had in my life."

He kissed her softly. "You're _my_ everything."

**Holy nose blowing and sobs, Batman!**

**I know many of you have been waiting for this…I hope it was what you wanted (hides)**

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**TTFN xxx**


	35. Chapter 35

**Thank you hugely for the reviews and support for the last chapter. Once again, I'm blown away.**

**I am thrilled that the ILY's were what you wanted. Many of you thought that PAW said more with his journal than words ever could, and I have to agree. Bless him.**

**Love to the PAW Princesses on Twitter, Twilighted, and Facebook. You're all fabulous, and deserve your tiaras!**

**See you on the other side...**

_And if it all falls apart, I will know deep in my heart, the only dream that mattered had come true. In this life, I was loved by you. ~ _**Collin Raye**

**Chapter Song**_: _More than Words ~ Extreme

**Chapter 34: Reality Check (Tell Me)**

_"You have it, Cullen. I'm yours," she said through tears. "You have me. I love you."_

Cullen let his eyes slide closed and let the sound of the words Bella had whispered in his ear permeate every part of his body, through his skin, into his blood, bones, and deep into his pounding heart.

"_I love you."_

Never had three words caused such chaos in one man. Never had three words sounded so fucking terrifying while simultaneously being the most incredible.

_Three _words.

Three small words consisting of three syllables.

"_I love you."_

Opening his eyes, Cullen continued to lie in bed, looking up at the ceiling, while Bella slept soundlessly at his side with her face snuggled into the crook of his shoulder. Her small arm draped across his chest and her left leg curled around the calf of his. Cullen's left arm lay protectively around her delicate shoulders, wrapped around her, holding her close, while his right rested casually behind his head.

It was six in the morning, and he had been awake for hours. In fact, he had barely slept at all. After Cullen had shown Bella his most prized material possession, his journal, his mind had continued to fire relentlessly, mulling over, and considering the words that she had uttered.

"_I love you."_

Once she had recovered from what Cullen could only assume was shock, Bella had repeated them twice more, whispered and fervent, and wrecking every fucking inch of him. _Three_ times, she had said it. In truth, Cullen could have heard them repeatedly until the end of time, but, for now, he would settle on the memory of the way her lips wrapped around each word, and the ardency with which she spoke them.

He kissed her hair gently and closed his eyes, suddenly accosted by her warm peach scent.

There was no hiding for Cullen now. His armour lay in ruins, battle worn and pierced by Bella's strength and..._love_. Never had he felt so naked and vulnerable than he had when she had told him the reasons as to why she had so freely given him her heart. She had called him beautiful and caring, and kissed his eyelids in a way that made him believe her. She had held him when he began to lose himself and whispered words that brought him back from the panicked darkness that had engulfed him once before when he had realised who she was in Arthur Kill.

She was so small and fragile lying next to him and yet, she was the strongest, most determined, and infallible of the two of them. Cullen had never considered himself weak before. After all the shit that he had been through in his life; the places, people, and things that he had seen, it was a fucking miracle that he was normal or had any strength of character at all.

Yet, with Bella, he felt helpless and exposed.

Because, the fact was, the tiny, spectacular woman at his side had the potential to cause him more pain than anyone else he had ever known. Although he was infuriatingly incapable of expressing his feelings for her into words he knew, without any shred of doubt, she had his heart, unequivocally and unconditionally, in the palms of her hands.

She always had.

The journal that he had shown her was a testament to that: the journal that he had used as a venting block for his quiet obsession. He was petrified that, when she saw the depths of the affect that she had had on him for so long, she would run screaming from the house. But, of course, she had understood, and had simply cried, held him, and fallen asleep in his arms.

As her arms had wrapped around him, however, he hoped that, even though she hadn't heard the _right_ words, the words that he _had_ used had been enough for her. She _was_ everything to him. She was everything that he needed, wanted, and aspired to be like. He wanted to be as strong as she was, as fierce, and passionate. Sure, Bella had told him that he was, but he still felt lacking. He wanted to be everything for _her_.

He knew, deep down, that he wasn't, and it fucking hurt.

She loved him, she had told him so and shown him when she had taken his body into hers, but Cullen couldn't stop the small part of himself that was still questioning why. Why the fuck did someone like her love someone like him? It wasn't that he doubted her love - far from it - it was just hard to erase twenty-seven years of self-deprecation, hatred, and anger, and allow himself the pleasure and freedom of having Bella's love. He was sure that the fear, and uncertainty, would fade over time, but he hated that it was within himself at all.

He looked down at Bella's face as she shifted against him and let the back of his fingers slide gently down her cheek. She was breathtaking. She smiled in her sleep and pursed her lips under his touch. Cullen smiled back and craned his neck so that his mouth could touch hers. She sighed when it did and fisted his hoodie in her hand. Cullen cupped her cheek and opened his mouth slightly to allow his tongue to trace the curves of her perfect bottom lip.

His mind flashed back to the night before when she had dominated him and demanded things from his body that he didn't even know it was capable of. Jesus, it was the sexiest fucking thing he had ever seen, but having her in his arms, sleepy, warm, and sighing was just as overwhelming. He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers.

"Are you awake?" he whispered.

"Mm," was her breathy reply.

He smiled and kissed her again. He was a slave to it. He had no fucking idea how the hell he was meant to cope without her when they got back to the city. He felt his shoulders start to deflate at the thought and pulled her closer to his body.

He'd promised himself that he wouldn't think about their impending trip back home, but he couldn't help it. Seeing his Peaches in the library three times a week just wouldn't be enough now they that had spoken such words. He knew that they needed to be careful with sleepovers and stuff, but fuck it; he wanted her with him constantly.

"I brought you a drink," he said as she stretched into him, groaning softly. "Orange juice."

He leaned back and picked up the glass from the bedside table.

She lifted her head and looked at him with sleepy, slightly swollen, eyes. "Thank you." As she took the glass, a confused expression crossed her face. "We're back in your room," she stated as she looked around.

"Yeah," Cullen replied with a smirk as he sat up against the pillows. "It was too cold in that other room. I brought you in here after you had fallen asleep. I checked the fire and the electric."

Bella stopped mid sip. "Is it back on?"

"No. Not yet." He tucked a piece of curling hair behind her ear and rubbed her arm gently. "But it's early. I'm sure they're working on it."

Bella kept her dark eyes on Cullen's, as she drank her juice. A beautiful shade of pink slowly washed over her cheeks.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked with playful eyes. "Your cheeks are fucking glowing, baby."

She smiled shyly and shrugged as she sat up. Placing the empty glass between her legs she let her pointer finger meander around the rim.

"I was just thinking about last night," she offered. The sparkle in her eye made Cullen's dick twitch minutely against his thigh.

"Oh yeah?" he asked nonchalantly, "What about?"

"Everything," she answered breathily.

Cullen felt his chest grow tight and dipped his head in embarrassment. It wasn't that he was embarrassed about telling her how he felt, but the whole journal thing had been a risk to say the very fucking least. He was anxious that she would think him to be weird or something. Maybe he was, but he had done it to show her what she meant to him. From her reaction, he was fairly sure that it had worked.

_My everything._

His head was brought up by two fingers under his chin, "Don't you dare," Bella chided softly. "Don't hide from me. Not now."

Cullen leaned into her touch as her hand caressed his temple. "I'm not hiding," he replied. His eyes searched her face slowly. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly hoping that she understood the depths of the question.

She paused, placed her glass on the side table, and leaned forward to kiss him. Her lips drifted over his teasingly before she pressed her mouth firmly to his. Cullen closed his eyes, moaned, and held onto her forearms that were at either side of his thighs. He could feel it. _Oh God._ There it was. He could feel it in the flick of her tongue and the way it caressed his own. He could taste it in her mouth and smell it on her skin.

Fuck. _She loves me_.

"Yes," she murmured as she gradually pulled away. "I'm very okay."

"Good," he croaked.

Bella's eyes narrowed slightly in concern. "Are _you_ okay?"

Cullen felt his heart thudding wildly in his chest, and breathed deeply into the lungs that seemed twice the size as they had been before. He felt alive and filled with energy despite his lack of sleep. _She_ had done that. With one simple touch and three tiny words, Bella had made him feel that way. He pulled her in for another long, deep kiss.

"Yes," he answered as he trailed kisses from her mouth to her earlobe. "I am very okay."

He smiled and dipped his face into her neck when she sighed and wound her arms around him, pulling him in for a tight hug. Cullen had decided that, since being with Bella, hugging was seriously underrated. Still joined together by tight arms and even tighter legs, they both lay back onto the bed and cocooned themselves with pillows and blankets. They remained quiet, staring at each other, neither wanting to burst the bubble that they had lived in for the past two days. It was a happy, easy bubble, a comfortable bubble, and both Cullen and Bella were dreading leaving it.

"What do you want to do today?" Cullen asked eventually as he watched Bella's eyes blink slowly.

She smiled lazily and shrugged. "I don't mind. I like being here right now." She pulled the blanket up and tucked it further under her chin. "I will have to leave it to go to the bathroom in about five minutes, but for now, I'm great."

Cullen laughed and wriggled closer to her so that their noses were almost touching. She was even more fucking beautiful up close. The hazel flecks in her eyes were stunning. "Tell me something," he said suddenly.

"Like what?" she asked gently as her hand moved leisurely under his hoodie to caress his side.

"I don't know," he replied as he tried to ignore her hand on his skin. Jesus, it burned so hot and deep. He swallowed. "Tell me...more about your dad."

Her eyes didn't move from his face, and her expression held no sign of discomfort or pain. She licked her lips.

"Okay, I will," she agreed, "If you tell me something about yours."

Cullen's face pinched instantly and his eyebrows furrowed. He exhaled in annoyance and frustration. He wanted to be open with her. Fuck, no one but Bella had ever seen him this way: gentle and unguarded, but he still had limits, even with her, and his father was a hard one. His anger towards his father was deep rooted and fierce, and Cullen didn't want any of that venom to infect his Peaches. She was too fucking good for that shit.

He moved back slightly and fixed his eyes on the strings that hung limply from the hood of her top.

"I...there's not much to tell, Bella," he muttered with a slight snarl. "He's a dick. That's pretty much it."

He felt her hand move to his back in reassurance. "It's alright," she whispered. "Don't be afraid to tell me anything. It's just you and me. You can tell me." She pressed her lips to his forehead. "Do you know why?" she asked.

"Why?"

"Because I love you," she answered immediately. "I love every part of you. Whatever you tell me will not change that." She looked him in the eye. "_Nothing_ will ever change that."

The air left Cullen's lungs in a rush and his lips pressed quickly to hers; needing her to ground him as the words she spoke coursed through him. She'd said it again. _Fuck._

_She loves me. _

"Jesus," he whispered. "Bella...I...when you say that..." He closed his eyes tightly. "My body..."

"I know," she replied clutching his hand to her chest above her heart. "Can you feel that?"

He could. He could feel it slamming under her ribs hard, fast, and sure.

"_You_ do that," she explained. "You always have." She laughed lightly. "Since the day you walked into my classroom, it's never beaten the same way."

Cullen moved down the bed and pressed his left ear to her chest, listening to the steady throb beneath it. He closed his eyes when he felt her fingertips skim through his hair. He could have easily drifted off to sleep. Never had he felt more at peace.

"My dad was...the most amazing man I knew," she started quietly. "He was fun, loving, kind, and he played the _best_ games."

"He achieved so much," she mused. "He was the youngest state senator in a long time. He hadn't had the easiest childhood. His father had been a drunk who beat my dad and his mom. He eventually left, leaving his mother to bring my dad up by herself. She struggled so he worked hard to try to help people who struggled too."

Bella kissed the crown of his head and hummed into his hair. "He was my hero. I wanted to be just like him. I promised him that I would try." She paused. "I still think I have a long way to go."

Cullen felt her chest rise and fall with a deep breath.

"My mom helped him get into politics. She's from a wealthy family and she used her trust fund to get him started. He loved it and hated it. He hated the assholes that he had to deal with in the senate, but he loved meeting people and helping." Cullen noticed that her tone was light, almost happy.

"He was really tall, he had a moustache that he was very proud of, and he loved Sinatra and motorcycles. He hated wearing suits and his favourite film was _Jaws_. Some people found him scary, or intimidating, but he wasn't. He was so gentle." She pulled Cullen closer. "He didn't deserve to...die the way that he did; so violently."

She pressed her lips to Cullen's forehead. He kept his arms around her while she continued to tell him stories about games they would play and books that he would read to her. As well as _Walter the Lazy Mouse,_ he loved _Huckleberry Finn_ and _Gulliver's Travels,_ and read them to her repeatedly, even when she slept.

"He's where my love of books and Literature came from," she said with a smile. "He and my mom would sit in the library, read, and hold hands on the sofa."

"Were your mom and dad happy?" Cullen asked. He knew that Bella's relationship with her mother was, for now, strained at best, but he wanted to know more.

"Yes," Bella replied. "They were very happy. They were very passionate...they loved one another very, very much." Her voice faltered. "A part of my mother died the day that my father did." Cullen looked up at her to see her eyes glaze over with tears.

"Shit. I'm sorry," he apologised as he cupped her face. "I didn't mean to-"

"No," she said softly. "It's okay. I'm fine talking about it. I just wish..." She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his. Cullen stroked her hair.

"What do you wish, baby?"

"Lots of things."

"Tell me."

The tears relented and her eyes brightened. "I wish that you could have met my dad," she smiled. "I think he would have really liked you." Her face became serious again. "And I wish that my mother wasn't so scared. I wish that she could allow herself to see past her fears and see how happy her daughter is."

Cullen's stomach flopped in anxiety and dread. What the fuck would her mother say when she found out that she was in love with an ex-con? Shit would hit the fan and where would that leave them both? Even Cullen wasn't sure that saving Renee Swan's only daughter was enough of a reason for her to give her blessing to their relationship.

He would fight, fuck, of course, he would fight for Bella, but he couldn't imagine seeing the expression that was currently on her face every day that they were together, knowing that he had a part in putting it there.

"You need to talk to her, Bella," he suggested gently.

Her gaze dropped from his as she fingered the writing on the chest of his hoodie. "I know," she replied. "I know."

Cullen was desperate to know what she was thinking. He wanted to know what she thought her own mother would say when she found out about their relationship. Would her mother stop them being together? Was that shit even possible? He wanted her reassurance; he wanted to hear that everything was going to be alright. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. She'd already given him so much.

"I'll call her when I get back to the city," she murmured. Cullen could hear the reluctance in the words she spoke.

"Okay," he soothed with a small kiss to her cheek. She snuggled up against him, as close as she could possibly get.

They lay that way for a while before Bella had to excuse herself to use the bathroom. While she was gone, Cullen pulled his hoodie over his head and threw it across the room. As great as cuddling was, it was fucking hot under the covers with her. He lay on his stomach, clutching the pillow to the side of his face, and watched as Bella reappeared with her hair up and a shine to her face. He could smell the soap on her skin as she stood by the side of the bed and breathed it in heavily. He was sure he could get drunk off that shit.

She looked down his bare back and cocked her head in question. "I'm hot," he remarked with a wink.

Bella's eyes flashed with lust. "Yes, you are," she agreed before she grabbed the hem of her own hoodie and pulled it off.

Cullen let his eyes wander languidly down her naked chest, following the curves of her amazing tits and hips with his eager stare. She was beyond perfection. He kept his hands on the bed and his cock in his pants as she lowered herself back onto the bed, mirroring his pose with her cheek against the pillow and her arms wrapped around it. Cullen couldn't resist but move closer to her and place a kiss on the tip of her shoulder. Her eyes closed briefly.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

She shook her head, "Just relaxed."

"It's early, Bella. If you want to sleep, you can." He smirked mischievously and arranged himself comfortably. "I'll just lie here and watch."

"Like a perv," Bella retorted.

"Fucking right."

Her laughter echoed around the room and her face scrunched in amusement.

"You're everything, Bella," Cullen whispered as she giggled into the mattress.

She didn't hear him.

Taking a few calming breaths, Bella got comfortable and closed her eyes again. She looked so happy and peaceful lying next to him snoozing that Cullen couldn't help but feel insanely fucking guilty for not sharing his own stories. He was at war with himself. One part of him wanted to tell Bella everything, but the other part, the lonely, black part that had become so prevalent during his time in prison, wanted to remain silent, covetous, and aloof.

"I hate my father," he uttered through a thick throat.

Isabella, who was almost asleep when he spoke, opened her eyes gradually to see Cullen's face was pensive yet still devastatingly beautiful. She remained quiet and watched as he battled with himself and the words that he wanted to speak.

"I hate that he fought for me and let me down," he added.

"I hate that he let my mother's family make decisions about me when it was fuck all to do with them. I hate that he never told me that he...cared about me. I hate that he pushed me away so much that, when he wanted to play catch or soccer, I didn't want anything to do with him." His tone turned acidic. "I hate him for making my childhood miserable."

He sighed and brought his eyes up to meet Isabella's and what she saw broke her heart. He was a little boy again, desperate for love from somebody, desperate to make someone happy, to see that someone cared.

"When my mother died," he breathed. "The only thing that she asked in her will was that I was sent to a private school, a boarding school, in fact...in Illinois." He rolled his eyes and shifted his face against his pillow. "She wanted an 'outstanding' education for her son – or so the lawyer said when he read the will."

"It was fucking bullshit. She never cared about me. She couldn't have given a fuck what school I went to when she was alive, so why she cared when she was dead is fucking beyond me."

Isabella flinched as he spat the word 'dead.' There was so much hatred behind it that she could almost see it on his breath. He was angry and hurt, and understandably so. Isabella hoped that his mother could see her son now. She hoped that she could see his pain and that her guilt, wherever she may be, stayed with her for eternity.

"My mother was a selfish bitch. I realised later that, even though she didn't want me, she didn't want my dad to have me either. In sending me away to boarding school, she was taking me away from him too." He laughed humourlessly. "It was all about fucking winning. She wanted to beat my dad." His face flashed with pain as he looked away. "That's what it was always about, and I just got caught in the crossfire."

"Your father contested the will though, right?" Isabella asked. "He didn't want you to go."

Cullen shook his head. "He never said a fucking word. He just let that shit happen, and three months later, I went to Illinois. I was eight years old."

"Cullen," Isabella whispered. Flashes of an eight-year-old little boy, alone and wondering what the hell he had done to deserve such treatment, pounded her mind. "Why did he do that? Why didn't he fight?"

Cullen shook his head slowly. "I don't know." He dipped his chin closer to his shoulder. "He never explained. He was more concerned with his job and getting women. He just took the money that he was given once a month for having me, even though I was hundreds of miles away nine months out of twelve."

Isabella was speechless. She couldn't imagine her own father making such a decision and being able to live with it. She'd had a good education too, at an all girl's school, but her parents would never have sent her away. Hearing Cullen's story, it was no wonder that his ideas about love, or what it meant, were none existent.

How could a man love when he had no clue as to what it felt or sounded like?

"I was kicked out after two years," Cullen said quietly. "My behaviour just became too much for them to cope with. I was smoking, breaking rules, arguing, and generally being a little asshole." He gave a slight smile. "The thing was though, Bella, every time that I was bad, they sent me home." He lifted his eyebrows to show his plan's simplicity. "I got to see my dad."

Of course, Isabella thought, why else would he act that way? "Did he go crazy?"

Cullen shook his head and shrugged. "He would shout. I would shout back. He would tell me that he was disappointed, but I think he knew my reasons. He just didn't know what to do about it. They shuffled my ass from school to school until I was seventeen. Fuckers couldn't do much by then."

"I'm so sorry," Isabella whispered.

Cullen grimaced. "Don't be. It's done. It was a long time ago."

"Is he still trying to get into contact with you?"

"Yeah, he _and_ his third wife, but I don't want to hear it, Bella," he explained in a clipped tone. "I don't want to build bridges or what the fuck ever. I just want him to leave me alone. I don't have anything to say to him."

Isabella could see the anger flaring in his eyes and placed a hand on his face to calm him. "I know. It's alright. You don't have to do anything, baby."

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before he sat up and rubbed his face. "I need a cigarette."

Isabella watched as he patted the pockets of his jacket strewn over the back of a white wicker chair. He found his smokes, walked over to the large doors at the side of the room that led out to a small balcony, and opened one. He placed the chair in a way that kept it open and dropped into it with a groan. He sparked up and exhaled into the cold morning air. Isabella couldn't take her eyes off him. He was a vision: strong, rumpled, and sexy.

She sat up and tucked the covers under her arms, leaning against the headboard. "When did you start smoking?" she asked.

Cullen turned to her before glancing at the cigarette that rested between his fingers, "When I was about nine." Isabella's eyes widened in shock. "I was bored and easily led," he added with a smirk. "It was just another form of rebellion. It stuck. I enjoy it."

"I was sick the first time I tried it," Isabella confessed.

Cullen chuckled through a haze of smoke, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, I never touched them again. Weed was as close as I got."

Cullen smiled. "Is it wrong that the idea of you getting high is sexy as hell to me?"

Isabella laughed. "I don't know."

Cullen finished his cigarette, went to bathroom, and returned looking more relaxed. He smiled down at Isabella before he crawled back into bed and resumed his previous position. Isabella moved towards him and began tracing her fingers over the ink on his back. It was stunning work. Mainly black, with hints of red. She leaned over him, resting her forearms on his ribs.

"They're so beautiful," she murmured. "Tell me about them." She placed a kiss between his shoulder blades above the black orchid that resided right in the centre. "Tell me what they mean to you."

Cullen relaxed into the pillows and mattress, welcoming Isabella's weight on top of him.

"The orchid I had done when I was about twenty-one," he explained. "It was one of only a few of the tattoos that I have that I really wanted. The rest I couldn't give a shit about."

He closed his eyes as Isabella's fingers traced the petals of the flower." Black orchids are rare which I liked, but what made me choose it was that it signifies power and strength. The black is authority, death to anything negative. I look at it as a way of overcoming any bullshit that comes my way."

"Is that why you have it in the middle of these waves?"

"Yeah," he answered sleepily. "The waves are the bullshit. Plus orchids are a sign of masculinity and virility." He looked back at her and smirked. "But you knew that shit."

Isabella laughed and kissed his back again. "I like all the black," she said. "You're right. It does make you look powerful, and very masculine."

Cullen continued to explain the tattoos that Isabella pointed out. The two black tribal stars that were for him and Jake, the curved and twisting symbol at the small of his back for Rosalie, "It represents sister," he explained.

There were others: a sei-hei-ki tattoo symbolising protection and emotional healing. Isabella felt her throat tighten at that one. There were musical notes hidden between the lines of some of the larger tattoos, and Isabella made a silent note to ask about them later.

"What's this one?" she asked as her fingertips glided over a beautiful _'S'_ shaped piece that was situated on his left side, half hidden by his arm, amongst the dark waves.

"That's my favourite," he said softly, his voice muffled by the pillow that his head rested upon.

"Why?"

Cullen took a deep breath, making the ink move. "She's my swan."

Isabella held her fingers still and blinked, as she looked closer at the tattoo. Sure enough, as her eyes travelled the lines of the black ink, she could make out the head, the long, elegant neck, and body of a black swan. It was tribal in its appearance and measured the span of Isabella's hand. It sat, regal and majestic, and undeniably beautiful.

"She?" Isabella asked, barely moving her stunned lips.

Was it a coincidence that he was marked with the symbol of her namesake?

"Yeah," Cullen replied. "_She_. I got her when I was eighteen. She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"Swans represent many things like, music and good luck, but, for me, she symbolises hope and beauty."

"Why?"

Cullen was silent and still for a beat before he began to move slowly onto his back, pulling Isabella's bare chest to his own. His eyes travelled around her face, wide, green, and clear. The fear had all but disappeared and that knowledge made Isabella's heart skip a beat.

"It symbolises you, Peaches," he said slowly. He trailed his pointer finger across her collarbone. "You read my journal, you saw what that night means to me, what _you_ mean to me. I had to have something with me...fuck, I don't know, like, a reminder."

"A reminder?"

"Yeah, to remind me that there is some good in me; that there is hope for me yet." He skimmed his hands down her back. "That night, Bella...saving you was the best thing that I have ever done. I know you see good in me, but I struggle with that shit. The tattoo was to help me a little. Whenever the waves of bullshit start to take over, I just think about my swan and how beautiful she is." He dropped his head and exhaled. "I don't know, Bella. I probably sound like a fucking idiot."

Isabella shook her head vigorously. "No," she said as she placed her hands under his ears, folding her fingers around the curve of his neck. "You don't. You sound...you sound perfect."

He kept his chin down and spoke towards her chest, pouting slightly. "Do you think I'm a fucking fruit cake?"

Isabella suppressed her smile at his words and lifted his head back up. She kissed him soundly.

"No," she replied. "I think you're wonderful."

He wound his arms around her back and held her close. He kissed her throat and sighed against her skin.

"Do you know something else about swans?" he asked.

Isabella closed her eyes and breathed him in. "What?"

He nuzzled her jaw and murmured, "They mate for life."

Isabella felt her heart kick behind her ribs at his words and let out a stuttered breath. How did he do that to her? How did he make her feel so chaotic? She felt like she was drowning while being simultaneously lifted to the heavens. _Heavy lightness._ Her brain couldn't quite comprehend it.

"Cullen," she whispered before their lips met again. She held the back of his head, knotting her fingers through his hair, while their mouths moved together.

_I love you. I love you._

She kept the words at the back of her throat. _Just_. She knew that she needed to be careful. With Cullen being so new to the concept of love, Isabella was all too aware of the risks, should she overwhelm him with the emotions that she was experiencing. Instead, she showed him with her body.

She straddled him quickly and laid her bare chest across his, pressing her breasts against his solid form. She held him tightly and made love to his tongue with hers. He moaned and gripped her hips, pressing his fingertips firmly into her skin. He was so hard beneath her, and, when he lifted his hips between her legs, she grunted and bit down on his lip.

He pushed his hands down the back of her sweats and held her ass as he moved upwards, slow and teasing. She could feel his cock, pressing deliciously into her pussy, and rotated herself to gain the maximum amount of friction.

He hissed and lifted his head to kiss her harder. His stubble rubbed her chin as his mouth opened over and over, hot and eager. He tasted fucking divine and she wanted more. She moved slightly, wanting to have him in her mouth, but he held her firm.

"Don't move," he growled. He wound his hips in a tantalising figure of eight, pushing into her further, "Just…fucking stay. I want to make you come…right here. Let me. Fuck, let me make you come."

Isabella's eyes rolled back at his commanding tone, "Oh God."

"Yeah?" he breathed, flicking his tongue up her throat as her head fell back.

"Fuck, yes," she mewed towards the ceiling.

"Christ, you're fucking beautiful."

His mouth crashed against hers and his arms wrapped around her so securely that it was difficult to breathe. But Isabella couldn't have cared less. It felt perfect. _He_ felt perfect.

She groaned as they rocked together. She was sopping and hot. She wanted him inside of her; she craved it, but the sensation of his cock rubbing her the way that it was, made it impossible to think, let alone move or form words. She was beyond coherency, and it was sublime. _I love you._

"There," she gasped as he hit one particularly toe curling spot between her legs.

"There?" he asked cockily as he did it again.

"Fuck. Yeah. _Oh_."

He moved faster, holding her in such away that he was the one controlling the pressure and pace. Isabella's hair fell around them both, creating a dark bubble of heavy, blistering breaths and desperate moans.

She gripped his shoulders and groaned as her stomach began to tighten. Her thighs held his securely and her back arched as his hands travelled up her spine, scouring her with his blunt nails. It was the most erotic thing she had ever felt. Dry humping had never been so amazing.

"You feel so fucking good, Peaches," Cullen panted into her mouth. He pushed his hips up so quickly that Isabella's knees lifted from the bed. "Can you feel how hard you make me?"

She hummed into his cheek and wiggled against him. _So close._

Cullen looked down at where their bodies were writhing together. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed with insane lust. "Holy shit, baby," he moaned. "You're pants are soaked. _Dammit_."

They were. Isabella could feel them sticking to her bare skin. The way the damp material slid against her clit as Cullen moved, however, was beyond incredible. She moved again, grinding down in a circular motion making Cullen grip her waist.

"Are you nearly there?" he asked as he buried his face between her tits.

"Ye-yes," she replied with a purr as her nose dropped into his hair.

"Thank fuck," he breathed in relief.

Seeing how turned on she was had been like a shot of adrenaline directly into his orgasm. She was a vision as she squirmed and thrashed above him with her drenched pussy. Cullen had the overwhelming urge to smell her between her legs and lap at the fabric like a fucking dying man_. Sweet nectar._

He moaned into her left breast when he felt her legs twitch. He recognised the movement. He lived for that fucking movement. She was about to come. He pushed his arms under hers that were wrapped around his neck, and gripped her shoulders as he humped the fuck out of her; the fact that he could easily pull down his sweats and slam his weeping cock into her, added to the thick arousal that covered them both like a hot blanket.

Later, he promised himself.

"Close," Bella murmured as their mouths met.

"Mmhm."

"Jesus, so…_uh_…close."

"Yeah."

"Edward."

"Yes, baby. Fuck yeah, move like that…fucking _Christ_."

"Coming."

"Me too. _Shit_."

"Oh God!"

"_Yeahyeahyeah_-"

"Now!"

"Bella!"

Her entire body convulsed violently against him. Her head fell backwards as she cried out, and her hips swivelled and dropped, rubbing his dick so hard that Cullen had no way of stopping the orgasm that slammed through him, and made him explode like a bomb into his sweats and roar into Bella's neck like a fucking animal.

They held onto one another, rocking gently; damp, sweating, and gasping and drifting down from their mutual highs.

"Goddamit," Cullen muttered into her shoulder as he shuddered with immense aftershocks. He kissed her warm collarbone. "Fucking…goddamit, woman."

"So good," Bella panted as she placed lazy, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. "My God, Cullen, you…you make me feel incredible."

"Mmhm," he hummed as he rested his head into the crook of her neck.

He felt her small arms squeeze him infinitesimally, and closed his eyes as she whispered beautifully, "I love you."

=PoF=

The bedroom was a lot brighter when Isabella re-opened her eyes. She was alone in bed and in desperate need of a shower, which she had quickly. Dressed in jeans and a black v-neck sweater, she made her way downstairs and into the sitting room towards the light strumming sounds of an acoustic guitar.

Cullen was sitting on the sofa, cross-legged, playing the instrument, with a cigarette dangled precariously from his mouth, and an open packet of Oreos at his side. He looked freshly showered and insanely sexy in a dark blue t-shirt and jeans.

He looked up as she entered and smiled around his smoke. "Hey," he said out of the right side of his mouth. "You're up."

Isabella smiled back at him as she approached. As he removed the cigarette from between his lips, she leaned down and kissed him. He hummed and exhaled down his nose as she did.

"Hey," she whispered. He smelled wonderful despite the haze of smoke that floated around him. "I'm sorry I slept late," she said bashfully as she glanced at the clock. It was twelve thirty.

Cullen shrugged. "Why? It's Sunday. Besides, I only moved my lazy ass about an hour ago."

Isabella smiled and pushed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

"The electric is still off," Cullen offered with a grimace. "But there's cereal and fruit if you're hungry. I made a couple of cheese sandwiches." He quickly dropped his eyes back down to his guitar, "Although I wouldn't be able to cook even if I _did_ have the goddamned electricity to work the fucking oven."

Isabella smirked at his grumpiness. "Cheese sandwich sounds great," she said cheerfully. "You want?" she called over her shoulder as she made her way into the kitchen.

"No. I'm good. I have Oreos," he called back before putting his cigarette back in his mouth and strumming quietly.

Isabella grabbed a sandwich and chips, fruit, and a drink of juice, and settled back into the single leather seat across from Cullen. She was nearer to the fire that way and revelled in its luscious heat. The sun was shining outside, and the sky was utterly clear, but the wind that blew off the ocean made the house chilly.

"Play me something," she said with a mouthful of apple as she watched Cullen pick and pluck at the steel guitar strings.

He looked at her in surprise and scrunched his nose as he smiled. "Nah," he replied with a shake of his head.

"Oh, come on," Isabella pushed. "I heard you before. You're good."

Cullen's mouth twisted into a shy smile that made parts of Isabella turn to goo. He looked adorably timid. It was a good look for him. With his masculine, broad chest and strong, flexing forearms, the coyness turned him into a complete paradox.

"Is that why you have the musical notes on your back?" she asked as she put her apple core onto the plate.

Cullen looked a little taken aback and a lot uncomfortable, "Um…yeah, kind of." He shifted nervously, placing his feet onto the floor and shifting himself to the edge of the sofa. He took a deep breath and paused. "Do you remember me telling you about my dad…and him being a musician?"

Isabella nodded as the pieces slowly fell into place. The tattoos were for his father. _Of course._ Despite his father's dismissive and callous attitude towards his son, Cullen still carried the markings of Carlisle Cullen's first passion and possibly their only connection as father and son, besides their DNA. Her heart gave a vicious squeeze of hurt for the man sitting before her. Underneath her sympathy, however, anger simmered; an anger that bordered on hate.

How the fuck could his family have treated him so cruelly? How could they not see that he had simply been, and, arguably, still was, desperate for love and affection? A paradox indeed.

"He…my father…showed me…a little bit one time," Cullen added quietly as he lit another smoke. "He gave me a guitar for Christmas one year. It wasn't new or anything, it was an old one that he didn't use. I got a chord book from a guy at school and…" He shrugged nonchalantly. "I just taught myself the rest."

Isabella moved gradually, keeping her eyes on Cullen's face as she settled on her knees by his feet. She placed a gentle hand on his bare toes. "I'd love to hear you."

Cullen bit the inside of his mouth and eyed her warily, "Really?"

Isabella nodded, "Absolutely."

He sighed and placed his half-smoked cigarette on the lip of the ashtray. "Alright, but I can't sing for shit." He pointed at her with narrowed eyes. "And don't fucking tell anyone that I did this."

Isabella laughed lightly while giving the Scout's salute and tucked her knees to her chest as Cullen righted himself, cleared his throat, and scowled menacingly at the guitar strings as though it would ensure their cooperation. Isabella held her breath, as his beautifully long and dexterous fingers started moving across the strings. She immediately knew the song and felt her whole body warm from the inside out.

He hummed the first couple of bars and then, to Isabella's astonishment, he began to sing, soft, deep, throaty, and unintentionally sexy.

"_Here comes the sun, little darlin'. Here comes the sun, and I say it's alright."_

He kept his eyes on the guitar as he sang the first verse and the chorus, before he gave up with a run of colourful curses, and began to grapple with the tuning heads.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Fuck it, it's really out of tune, and…well, I'm fucking shit and…sorry."

Isabella kneeled up, fighting against the hypnotised stupor that Cullen's singing had created, and placed her hands on his, halting his fumbling instantly. He looked at her with questioning eyes, and she watched his shoulders slump heavily. Whether it was in relief or simply because he was overwhelmed, she had no idea.

"That was amazing," she said as she moved a piece of hair from his eyes. "_You're_ amazing."

His face began to fall in disbelief, and a look of incomprehension flashed across his eyes. Isabella cupped his face quickly and pressed her lips to his. _You _are_ amazing and I love you._

Cullen melted into her and exhaled down his nose, bathing her cheek with his breath. He held onto her waist with his right hand and moved forward wanting more of her taste, but the motherfucking guitar was in the way. He sucked tenderly on her bottom lip making her gasp, and leaned his forehead against hers.

"No-one, Bella," he uttered. He shook his head and closed his eyes. "No-one knows this shit…I…Jake knows some, but it's been a fucking long time since I spoke about this stuff. I don't...I _don't_ do this." He gestured towards the guitar.

Bella's hand caressed his face gently. "I know," she whispered. "Thank you for trusting me."

_I do trust you. You're everything to me. You're _my _everything._

Cullen opened his mouth to say those exact words again, but they wouldn't budge. He tried again, but they remained petrified and solid at the back of his throat. He growled at himself in frustration. _What the fuck?_ Why was it so fucking difficult?

He'd said them the night before when she'd been in his arms, but now they seemed stuck, and it wasn't fucking fair. It wasn't fair to Bella and it sure as shit wasn't fair on him. Once just _wasn't _enough. He wanted to be able to tell her how he felt. He wanted to tell her what he knew she wanted to hear, but…fuck! His mouth and brain just would not allow it.

"It's aright," Bella soothed as she kissed the side of his mouth that continued to open and close in the hope that the words would flow. "It's alright." Her eyes told him that she understood the battle that he was having within himself, and yet, it didn't give him much comfort.

_She shouldn't have to fucking understand._

"You don't have to say anything, sweetheart," she said with her lips on his cheek. Her arms tightened around his neck. "I know."

Cullen blinked and turned his nose into her hair. "You do?"

"Yeah," she replied with a soft smile. "I do." Their eyes locked. "I can feel it in the way you kiss me and touch me. You don't have to say anything because your body says enough."

As sexy and reassuring as that sounded, it didn't ease his guilt, "But I-..."

"Shh," Bella breathed. "It's alright."

They remained sitting together that way, guitar held between them, rocking slowly from side to side, with their arms wrapped around one another. Cullen smiled into her shoulder when he heard her humming the same song that he had played for her. He couldn't quite believe that he had done that. He didn't sing in front of anyone, but the words of that particular Beatles song resonated deep within him when he thought of his Peaches. As Hallmark card and pussy whipped as it sounded, she _was_ his sun. He gave an internal eye roll.

Jesus, what the _fuck_ had she done to him?

"Hey," Bella murmured as she pulled back slightly. "Will you take a walk on the beach with me?"

She smiled and Cullen was, once again, hopelessly lost.

=PoF=

They walked down the porch towards the beach a half hour later, hand in hand and wrapped up warm.

"So I want to ask you something," Bella said as she snuggled into Cullen's side when his arm draped around her shoulders.

He kissed her hair. "Hit me."

"You know that I spoke to my Grandmother, right? I told her about you...and me."

"Yeah," Cullen replied, feeling his heart give an appreciative thump. He liked that she'd done that. It made what they had together feel more real; that what they shared was valid and true.

"Well..." She hesitated and looked away. Cullen could see that her lip was wedged securely between her teeth.

"What is it?"

Bella stopped walking and turned to face him. Her eyes were nervous and Cullen immediately became panicked. He frowned in concern, "Peaches?"

Bella dropped her chin to her chest and spoke in one long breath. "She's invited you to Chicago, to her house, to spend Thanksgiving with her, with us...I mean, you and me..._shit_...she's invited us both, and I'd really like to take you and have you meet her, but I understand if you don't want to, I get it. I do-"

Cullen cut off her adorable blathering with a searing kiss. He held her hands to his chest and calmed her with soft, wanting laps of his tongue. She moaned and curved into her body into his, gripping his fingers tightly.

He pulled back and smiled when he saw that her eyes remained closed and her lips were stuck in a needy pout. "You're cute as hell when you ramble," he said with a cocky smirk.

"Shut up," she retorted as she slowly opened her eyes.

Cullen laughed. "So you're asking me if I'd like to spend Thanksgiving with you in Chicago, with your Grandmother."

Bella nodded and shrugged. "I still have her car, which I need to take back, so we can drive."

Cullen exhaled and licked his lips. He could feel a finger of anxiety creep up his spine and settle deep into his bones, "Um...what about your mom?" he asked cautiously. "Will she be there?"

Bella shook her head. "No," she replied quickly. "They always spend Thanksgiving with Phil's family. She spends Christmas with Nana Boo."

Cullen nodded in understanding but couldn't shake the wary feeling that resided smack in the centre of his chest. He had to hand it to Bella; she didn't appear worried at all. She looked beautiful and hopeful that he would say yes, but Cullen wasn't entirely sure that he could. He fidgeted and pushed a hand through his hair.

"You don't have to make a decision now," she said, seemingly sensing his unease. "Think about it."

"I will," he promised. "Thank you...for inviting me."

Bella smiled again, "Of course."

They continued to wander down the beach, watching the waves and the seagulls that gathered on the sand. Cullen laughed when two black Labradors with soaked fur and a sopping tennis ball that they were eager for her to throw accosted Bella. She threw it as only a girl could, half-assed and landing only twenty feet away from them. Cullen snorted and made a comment that was, admittedly, sexist as fuck. He regretted it as soon as Bella's hand made contact with his stomach. She sure as hell didn't hit like a girl.

It was, seemingly, a perfect day for Cullen, with a beautiful blue sky above his head and a beautiful woman at his side, but he was all too aware of the ticking clock and the fact that their time together was quickly coming to an unwanted end. He gave her hand a squeeze, making sure that she was still there, physically and emotionally, and smiled when she did it back.

"What are your plans for tonight?" he asked as, from behind, he wound his arms around her waist and dropped his chin to her shoulder while they looked out at the ocean.

She sighed and leaned against him. "Nothing," she replied. "Well, I have school work to get ready for tomorrow."

He nodded.

"What time do we have to leave?" she asked quietly.

Cullen grinned mischievously and nibbled her cheek. "We don't ever have to."

He felt her tense in his arms. "Don't," she said brusquely. "Don't say that."

"What?" he asked in confusion.

She turned abruptly in his arms and looked at him with frustrated, wet eyes. "Don't say things that can't happen, Cullen. It isn't fair."

_Shit._ He sighed and rubbed the tops of her arms. "I know. Sorry. I was just playing."

"I know," Bella retorted sharply. "It's just..." She trailed off with a grimace, and toed the sand beneath her feet. She looked so sad.

"Bella," Cullen said gently as his thumb moved across her chin. "I know that the whole situation is...well, it fucking sucks balls and ass quite frankly." He was relieved when she gave a small laugh. She looked up at him and rolled her eyes playfully.

"It's shit that we have to leave, and believe me, baby, I feel just like you do. But I promise that we can come back here any time you want."

Her eyes seemed to brighten and clear at his words, but her face still held shadows of unhappiness. "We can?"

Cullen nodded and pulled her close. "Bella, this weekend has been awesome. Of course we can come back." He kissed her forehead firmly. "I won't ever forget it."

"Neither will I."

He felt her glove covered hands cup his face and bent down to kiss her. It was slow but passionate and made Cullen's body tighten all over. Their tongues danced and he groaned and grabbed her ass. Despite the freezing wind, ever part of him started to heat up. Desperation sizzled between their lips, and a frenzy sparked in the fingers that grasped his face. It felt like goodbye.

Fuck, he had no idea how he was going to watch her drive away from him. His stomach turned. Jesus, he couldn't even think about it. How the hell had he coped with her being away from him before, was beyond him.

His lips left hers and he panted into her cheek. "Say it, Bella," he pleaded as his eyes scrunched tightly. "Say it again. Please. _Fuck_, I...I just need to hear it."

Her soft lips moved to his ear. "I love you," she whispered. "With my whole heart, I love you."

Cullen wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up as they kissed again. "I need you," he groaned as her calves wrapped around his thighs. "I want you so badly."

His breathing started to accelerate once more, "_Peaches_." His nose hurriedly sought out her scent, knowing it to be the only thing that would calm him.

"I want you too," she gasped as his teeth grazed her throat. She kissed his temple. "Take me back to the house," she begged. "Show me. Oh God, Edward, show me, _please_."

Cullen didn't need asking twice. He held Bella securely to his chest and all but ran back to the house, absorbing the licks, nips, and kisses that she lathered over his face as he moved. Without letting her go, he exploded through the front door of the house and staggered up the stairs, feeling his arms start to give with the strain of holding her for so long.

But he didn't let go.

With their mouths once again connected, needy and wet, Cullen lowered her feet to the ground by the side of the bed and began to fumble with the buttons on her coat as she did the same to him. He cursed when they got stuck, and grunted when her mouth slammed against his. Their hands were everywhere, removing clothes, touching, grabbing, frantic, and furious.

Sounds neither of them had heard before erupted from each of them, begging, moaning, and pleading for more.

A puddle of clothes began to gather at their feet and loud bangs echoed around the room when shoes that had been flung hard, hit the walls.

"Fucking fuck!" Cullen growled in frustration when his fingers couldn't unfasten Bella's jean fly quick enough, "Help. I can't...I need you naked."

She was still wearing her bra and that shit just would not do. While Bella undid her uncooperative jeans, Cullen's hands went to the cups of the black lace and pulled them down roughly, ignoring the sound of tearing fabric as he did. His hands covered and squeezed her tits as her nipples puckered in his open palms and his mouth latched hungrily onto the curve of her neck.

Gasping, Bella wiggled her hips, and pushed her panties and jeans to the floor, before she grabbed Cullen's belt loops and pulled him to her so hard that they both fell back onto the bed with a resounding _oomph_.

"_You're _not naked," she gasped into his open mouth as he pushed his jean-covered crotch into her bare, wet one.

"Take the fucking things off then," he replied breathlessly, as he bit along her collarbone.

He felt her hands push aggressively between them both, and lifted up slightly so that she could push his jeans down. He kicked them off and then spread himself along her body, sliding against her, hissing every time that the tip of his cock touched her pussy. They weren't even kissing anymore, but rather breathing in and out of each other's mouths.

Cullen gripped the back of Bella's right knee and pushed it upwards, opening her up further, and thrust straight into her.

He hadn't asked for permission but, fuck it, he couldn't wait any longer. His head dropped heavily to her shoulder, and a long, loud moan escaped from between his teeth.

Perfection. That's what she was. That's what she felt like. _Motherfucking perfection._

"Oh God!" Bella cried out as her back arched and her fingers grabbed his waist. "Yes."

Her knees dug into his ribs and the heels of her feet pushed hard into his ass, as Cullen began to drive into her. He went hard. He went fast. He had no control over himself. Her pussy welcomed him, surrounded him, and her hips rotated back against his so that he could go even deeper.

Yet, it still _wasn't_ enough.

Cullen could feel the hole that had formed in his chest, at the thought of their imminent separation, wide and hollow as he fucked her. With each pound of his cock, he hoped that it would shrink, but, instead, it seemed to get bigger.

"Christ," he groaned. "Goddamit, Bella, fuck..."

"Yes," she repeated as she threw her head back. She gripped the covers at her sides and arched. "Show me, baby. Fuck me."

"You want me to fuck you, Bella?" he panted as he gave a hard punch of his hips.

She cried out. "Yes! Fuck me. Please."

Her breath stopped short when he pulled out of her, and her eyes shot open in shock. "What-"

"Get on your hands and knees," he ordered as he kneeled naked and glorious between her thighs. She saw his shining cock bob by his stomach and instinctively licked her lips. He smirked. "I'll put it in your mouth if you do as you're told," he growled. "Get on hands and knees."

Without a second thought as to how ungraceful she may have looked, Isabella pulled her right leg from his left hip and scuttled into place until he was behind her, smoothing his palm across the curve of her ass. She pushed against him, feeling his dick slip between her cheeks. The moan that came from him was like nothing she had heard before. It was almost manic.

"Sweet Christ," he muttered. "What I wouldn't give to just..." He pushed his cock across her most intimate part while holding her hips in his large, safe hands. She gasped.

Never had a man been there. Never had she wanted a man there before. Until that moment.

She looked at him over her shoulder and smiled wickedly. "You like that, baby?"

He didn't even look back at her, seemingly hypnotised by her ass. He nodded and hummed in agreement while his hand sneaked under her and pinched her clit. Hard.

"Fuck!" Isabella exclaimed as her head snapped back.

Cullen grinned and cocked a seductive eyebrow. "You like _that_, baby?"

She hummed, purred, and writhed in his hands. "Yes. Shit, yes."

"Has anyone ever taken you here, Bella?" he asked smoothly as the wet head of his cock pressed teasingly against her puckered skin.

She shook her head and moaned loudly at the mere thought of him taking her that way. "No."

Cullen hissed at her words. "Would you like _me_ to?"

She swallowed in nervous excitement and looked back at him. "Ye-yes," she stammered.

Isabella watched in wonder as his face changed. His eyes that were almost black with desire softened and were suddenly awash with tenderness. He smiled gently and bent down to place a light kiss at the base of her spine.

"Don't worry, beautiful," he mumbled into her skin as his nose trailed up her back, breathing her in. "Not today. Today I just want your hot pussy."

"It's yours," Isabella sighed. "Every part of me is yours."

Cullen's grip on her hips tightened instantly and his eyes once again turned feral and possessive. He was magnificent.

"Do you want me, Bella?"

She licked her lips and breathed him in, "More than anything."

"Fuck, I want you too," he whispered back, flicking his tongue into one of the dimples that lay at the small of her back. "You have no idea how fucking incredible you look right now. _Jesus_." His cock found her entrance and slowly began to spread her open. He paused. "Tell me."

"I want you."

"Say _it_."

"I love you."

Isabella screamed out in sublime pleasure, as Cullen slammed into her so hard that her entire body shifted across the bed. He held her, motionless, breathing heavily. It was deep. Oh, fuck, he was so deep and he filled every inch and more of her. She clung onto the bed sheets, tearing them from the edges of the mattress, as he pulled back and began to pound her, grunting with each drive of his hips. Their flesh slapped together, and each sharp clap became punctuated with cries of more from deep within her.

Never had Isabella felt so out of control, so wanton, and insane with lust and love for the man that was fucking her.

She wanted him like that forever, solid and firm as he was. She hated that their time together was ending. She hated that they couldn't stay at the beach house forever and make love everyday without the fear of being interrupted or discovered. In almost twenty-four hours, they would be together again, in the library, trying to behave as though the weekend hadn't happened. Isabella's heart fractured. She would find it impossible. She needed to be near him, touching him, kissing him, and holding him.

Now that he knew what she felt for him, seeing him again as her 'student' would be virtually impossible. She wanted more.

"More!" she pleaded.

"Yes, Bella," he groaned in reply, holding her so securely that her hips began to ache deliciously. "You feel so good." He pulled her closer, as his hips surged forward. "Dammit, I can't get close enough, baby. _Fuck_!"

He was hitting parts of her that had never been touched before, parts that burned and screamed for release. The pleasure she was feeling teetered on discomfort, but Isabella was too far gone to tell Cullen to ease off. She didn't want him to. She wanted to feel how much he wanted her. She meant it when she had told him that his touch - and not his words - was all she needed. His body was his tell.

His body told her what he desired and craved. _Her._ His hands touched her reverently when they shared the quiet, but held her so close, as though he feared she would disappear, when they made love. Those moments told her more than his words ever could. His eyes would look at her as though she was precious, breakable, but would then spark with crazed lust when she was bare before him.

Whether he did love her was inconsequential because the feel of him inside of her, the sounds and movement of his body with hers, was more than enough. Along with the prized journal that he had shown her, she knew that he was in as deep as she was.

He tilted his hips suddenly, and ground into her. His voice came in stuttered gasps and clipped groans.

"I'm...fuck, I'm nearly there, Bella." He moved his hand back to her clit and rubbed frantically. "Get there._ Please_. Get there with me."

Taking her weight on her left hand, Isabella moved her other, folding her fingers through his, and rubbed right along with him.

"Ah, shit," he moaned when their fingers slipped and tangled amongst her wetness. His free hand gripped her shoulder and pulled her until she was almost kneeling upright.

"So hot," he muttered as his sweating forehead met her shoulder blade, "So wet. Jesus, Bella, I..."

"Faster, Edward," she moaned as she swivelled her hips.

"I can't," he replied with a pained groan. "I'll come."

"Good," she panted and rotated her pelvis again. He was so hard, and his thrusts started to become sloppy and without rhythm. He panted into her ear and held onto her neck as he cried out and drove harder.

"I...I'm..." he whispered through gritted teeth.

"I know," Isabella replied as their fingers worked furiously over her clit. "Come for me, baby."

His grip increased. His breathing got heavier and his hips moved faster.

"You're so beautiful, Bella. You're...you're fucking...you're _everything, _I swear to God, you are."

His words took hold of her orgasm and threw it deep into the depths of her tightening stomach. She groaned loudly and clenched around his cock, as the feeling of euphoria began to spread.

"_Fuck_. I can feel you," Cullen gasped. "I can't..._Shit._ I'm coming. Fuck. Sweet fucki-..._Bella_!"

His hips slammed against her while his upper body collapsed heavily onto hers, pushing her back onto her hands.

"_Fuckfuckfuckfuck_," he chanted into her hair, as he pushed into her again, and again.

Isabella felt his cock twitch violently as he emptied in fierce, unstoppable streams inside of her, before her own orgasm ricocheted powerfully through her entire body, pulsing like an atomic bomb from her clit, up through her torso. She howled out his name, feeling unexpected tears burst from her eyes, and slumped forwards taking him with her, until they were a tangled mass of limbs, heat, sweat, and come, spread across the bed.

Their deafening breaths filled the room as they lay, unmoving, still joined.

With closed eyes, Cullen kissed Bella's neck slowly up to her jaw.

"I...am without words," he muttered. "Every." Kiss. "Fucking." Kiss. "Time." Kiss.

He opened his heavy eyelids slowly to see Bella's cheeks were wet with tears. He was instantly petrified that he had hurt her. "What's wrong?"

He leaned over her, resting on his elbow. He pushed her hair back and kissed her temple in panic as he pulled out of her. "Shit, Bella, did I hurt you? I know I went hard, but, fuck, you asked, and-"

She shook her head and clasped his hand in hers, pulling it to her lips. "You didn't hurt me," she sniffed. "It was…perfect." She looked at him with large, dark eyes that shimmered with tears. "_You're_ perfect."

Cullen couldn't hold his scoff. While fucking her, he had clearly dislodged some of her rational thinking for her to say shit like that. He moved his face closer to hers and nuzzled her cheek as he wrapped his free arm around her naked waist. She smelled of him, and it was sexy as fuck.

"Why are you crying, Peaches?" he asked softly.

Her gaze fixed on the tips of his fingers, as she played with them. Her hand looked so fucking tiny, grasping his two middle fingers.

He wiggled them to get her attention, "Baby?"

She smiled shyly when their eyes met. "I'm just being stupid," she confessed quietly. "Ignore me."

"Impossible," he countered with a frustrated frown. "Talk to me. I thought we had no secrets."

It was a low blow, but Bella's wellbeing was everything to Cullen. If he had done something to make her cry, he wanted to know so that he could fix it immediately.

She took a deep breath and continued to play with his palm. "I just don't want this to end," she whispered, "Ever."

She shifted her leg so that it rested along his. The heat of her skin radiated through him. "I'm sorry."

Cullen shook his head and pressed his hand to her cheek as she turned to him. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Bella."

"Yes, I do," she countered. "I snapped at you for saying things that couldn't happen, and here I am doing the exact same thing. It isn't fair, and I'm sorry."

Cullen's brow furrowed and his chest grew taut. "And what exactly _can't_ happen?" he asked in a low voice.

Bella shuffled closer to him, which was an achievement in itself considering they lay practically entwined as it was.

"This. Forever," she replied quietly, as her fingers danced down the centre of Cullen's sweaty chest, and played with the sparse hair there.

Cullen remained silently perplexed by her words. What the fuck did she mean? Did she see no future for them? Did she not want a future with him? She'd told him that she loved him. Was that a lie? His heart faltered mid beat.

He moved back from her, taking her by surprise. His face must have looked like thunder by the confused, almost nervous, expression on her face, as she looked up at him.

"Why are you saying that shit?" he asked sharply with a scowl. "I thought that you wanted to be with me. I thought that you were in this like I am. I thought that you lo-..cared for me."

Bella's eyes widened in panic, "Oh Christ, Cullen. I _do_ care for you. I love you. I love you more than I can explain, and the thought of leaving this place, of leaving you, tears me to pieces." A small tear slipped gradually down her cheek.

Isabella moved closer to him, desperate for him to understand, and cupped his face.

"You misunderstood, baby. I'm sorry. I _do_ want to be with you, more than I want anything else, and I _am_ in this for as long as you'll have me and my stupid, idiotic, nonsensical mouth."

She shook her head in annoyance at herself and exhaled. She didn't know what she would do if he didn't believe her.

God, it wasn't even worth thinking about.

She sucked in a sharp breath when Cullen's fingers moved under her chin, pulled her head up, and pressed his mouth firmly to hers. She groaned in relief and wound her arms around his neck; pushing her body into his while, his hands rested under her breasts. He deepened the kiss quickly, plunging his tongue into her mouth, but slowed it down just as fast.

He laid three small kisses across her lips and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Tell me something," he said firmly. "Do you remember what I had Garrett write in the front of your birthday present?"

Isabella didn't even have to think for half a second to understand what he was talking about. _The book_. The most precious book she owned. She looked back up at him and nodded.

"Tell me."

Isabella held in the lump of emotion that crept up her throat and licked her lips. "_Here's to achieving anything you put your mind to, no matter what the obstacles_." She recited it verbatim, having memorised it the day that she had received the first edition copy of '_Walter the Lazy Mouse'_.

Cullen's mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile. "You learned it?"

"I may have read it a few times," she offered with a slight blush.

The small smile broke on Cullen's face, gentle and tender, before a serious frown reappeared above the bridge of his nose.

"What do you think I meant by those words, Peaches? What was I talking about?"

Isabella saw the urgency in the green of his irises and felt the pressure of his fingertips increase along her ribs. She could see it and feel it. She knew then what answer he was looking for.

"You were…you were talking about…us," she murmured.

She was amazed that her voice worked at all. She had been so blind. Was it even possible that he wanted her then? She knew that his journal had shown that he had thought of her, but it still seemed so surreal. The beautiful, broken man lying with her cared for her in a way that even Isabella found hard to comprehend.

The sternness that framed Cullen's face slowly eased as he nodded. "Yeah, I was talking about us," he confirmed. "I wanted you. Christ, Bella, you have _no_ idea how long I've waited for you."

Bella closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his chin. His name escaped on a soft breath from between her lips. "Edward."

Cullen shivered. "We both know that there is bullshit waiting for us when we get home," he said with a tone of regret. "Being apart, having...issues with fuckers that..." He took a deep breath and clenched his teeth as Peter's face flashed before his eyes.

"Those are _our_ obstacles." He pulled her closer as a sob shook her body. "But, Bella, _we _are all that's important. And I know that it's gonna be hard as hell leaving this house after…after everything that has happened this weekend, and I can't even begin to think how the fuck I'm gonna be able to watch you drive away, or wait until tomorrow to see you again, but we're in this together, Peaches."

He held her tear stained face and kissed her, "You, and me."

"I know," Bella croaked. "I know."

"Until the end of my parole, baby," Cullen uttered as he wiped at her tears. "That's all. And then, we have no reason to hide."

"It isn't fair," she whimpered into his chest. "I want to _be_ with you."

"I know." Cullen sighed, as he smelled her hair. "It's shit, but we'll get through it. If I have to steal you back here every fucking weekend, we'll get through it."

Bella laughed lightly through her tears and kissed his throat. "I love you."

Cullen closed his eyes and let her words wash over him, "_Peaches_."

They lay in silence, caressing and kissing until the sun's rays moved across the room, and twilight crept noiselessly through the window. Cullen slid his fingers down Bella's face, rousing her from her gentle snoozing. He hated to wake her when she looked so peaceful and gorgeous, but he didn't want her driving back to the city too late.

Dammit, he didn't want her driving back to the city at all.

She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "Hey."

"Hey," he replied. "It's getting late."

He watched as her face dropped and her lip disappeared into her mouth as she worried it. He pulled it back out with his thumb and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Take a bath with me?" he whispered.

"Yes."

Cullen lifted his weary body from the bed and made his way into the bathroom where he filled the huge ceramic tub with hot water and some stuff that smelled nice. He lit some freestanding, emergency candles to light the room, cursing the damned electric. He was turning off the faucet when Bella's arms snaked around his waist, and her lips pressed between his shoulder blades. He turned his head and kissed her cheek.

They didn't speak as they climbed into the bath, with Cullen lying between Bella's legs, leaning back against her bare chest and stomach with his palms stroking her thighs and calves that curved around his torso. As he let his head fall back onto her right shoulder, Bella wrapped her arms around his and let the heat of the water soak her skin.

"If I get my work done tonight," Bella murmured softly. "Would you come over?"

Cullen smiled lightly and turned his face towards hers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "I want you for one more night before reality kicks me in the butt. Is that alright?"

He kissed her to show that it was more than fucking all right. He hadn't wanted to push her about spending the night together again. He wanted it to be her decision. After all, she was the one who had the most to lose, if people found out.

"Call me when you want me," he said as the tips of their noses touched.

"I want you always."

=PoF=

The electric in the house came back on in time for Isabella to cook a quick lasagne for dinner. They ate in relative silence, with Isabella throwing begrudging glances towards the suitcase and bags that sat tauntingly by the front door.

"You'll be okay driving back?" Cullen asked as he placed his knife and fork onto the clean plate. He'd practically hovered the damn stuff.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she replied. "I have my GPS."

Cullen smiled tightly and sipped the last of his beer. "Then you'll let me know when you're done with work. No matter how late it is."

Isabella smiled at his eagerness. He was beautiful. "I will."

They cleared up their plates, washed up, and checked the house for anything they may have missed, locked all the windows, and turned off all the electrical points. By the time they were finished, Isabella was fairly convinced that Cullen had severe OCD.

After much procrastination from both of them, they finally put on their jackets and left the house. Isabella felt her heart slump in sadness as she watched Cullen lock the door and try the handle. He turned around to look at her with an expression that told her he was feeling the exact same way before he traced the apple of her cheek with his thumb.

"Anytime you want," he reiterated gently.

He helped her with her '_mammoth fucking suitcase'_ and heaved it with a curse into the trunk of her car. He slammed the trunk lid down and shook his head.

"Women," he muttered with a small smirk.

Pushing the keys into the ignition, Isabella stood by the open car door and watched Cullen approach. He stopped next to her and leaned his forearm on the roof.

"So," he said as he glanced into the car and then back at Isabella.

"So," she echoed.

"Drive safely, okay?"

Isabella smiled, "You too." She cocked her chin towards _Kala_. "Make sure she looks after you."

Cullen smiled. "She always does."

Without another word spoken, Isabella placed her palms on Cullen's waist and leaned her forehead against his chest. She sighed when she felt his mouth press into her hair.

"Thank you for this weekend," she mumbled. "It was wonderful."

He took a deep breath that made Isabella's head move. "You're welcome, Peaches."

She lifted her head and smiled. "I'll see you later."

"Absolutely."

On her tiptoes, Isabella kissed him, closed mouthed, but firm, and revelled in his breath as it washed over her and the feel of his fingertips along her neck.

"Text me when you get home," he said as she pulled away and got into the car.

"I will."

He closed the door and winked at her through the window. He tapped the roof twice, as she started the engine, and stood by his bike as she reversed, turned the car around, and drove away from him.

Isabella continued to look at Cullen in her rear view mirror until he was a tiny speck and rubbed her chest above where a horrible feeling of loss resided. She turned on the radio and sang loudly to the _Katy Perry_ song that blasted from the speakers in a useless attempt at distracting herself.

The drive was long and uneventful, except for the moment that Cullen flew past Isabella's car on _Kala_ like a bat out of hell, weaving through traffic like a loon. She wasn't sure that he even noticed her, but fuck, if he didn't look like sex incarnate riding the damned thing. Her body heated from the inside out as she remembered the feel of the engine purring beneath her while having her legs wrapped around him.

So much had happened in the two days that they had had together, with confessions spoken and huge steps taken on both sides. Telling Cullen that she was in love with him, although unplanned, had left Isabella feeling liberated. Her heart seemed to beat harder, more powerfully, and knowing that he had accepted her love with no question filled her with optimism and faith. She had to have faith that together they could overcome anything. She had to believe that, no matter what, they would always have each other.

_No matter what the obstacles._

Ninety minutes later, Isabella pulled into the car lot of the Belmont building in Soho, and went about pulling her suitcase from the trunk. As she dropped it to the floor, she considered that maybe Cullen had been right; she'd packed far too much.

She smiled to herself as she wheeled it behind her, waving at Fred as she made her way to the elevators. Her apartment was nice and warm when she entered it, but Isabella still felt cold, as if she was missing something. Of course she felt like she was missing something, half her heart was all the way in Tribeca.

She rolled her eyes at her ridiculous internal ramblings.

"Get a grip, girl," she chastised herself as she left her case in her bedroom, and changed into comfy sweats and a loose t-shirt.

Isabella text Cullen to tell him that she was home safely, and started to unpack her suitcase. She smiled to herself when she thought about Cullen's moaning and cursing as he had taken the case into the beach house. His muscles had strained gloriously as he had heaved it up the stairs. Isabella felt her face start to heat up, while her vagina gave a large contented sigh. Jesus, the way that man made her body feel was borderline illegal.

Laughing softly to herself, Isabella lifted the case lid and stopped short when she saw the rubber bound journal that Cullen had shown her the previous night. _How the hell had it gotten there?_ She picked it up carefully, and sat back on her heels as she unfastened it, and started to flick slowly through each page. She had only seen half of before she had fallen into his arms and cried tears of shock, relief, and happiness into his shoulder.

Once more, Isabella read over Cullen's handwriting, her eyes absorbing his inner thoughts about her; his anxieties, and his continuing worry that she wouldn't even remember him. Isabella had never heard anything so absurd. She paused with her hand on the page when the penmanship suddenly changed from scrawling, angst-ridden teenager to brooding adult. She frowned gently in confusion.

The date written was Sunday 9th November. Today.

_My Bella. My Peaches._

"_And when I met you my heart sighed. The sigh radiated from the hole in my chest, from that place that had never seen light, from that place that had taken all of my joy and given me only loneliness. "There you are," it said, "you don't know how long I have been waiting for you.""_

_Keep this with you and know that you have always been, and forever will be, my everything. ~ C_

Isabella's hand found her mouth as her breath stopped for a single heartbeat and her pulse began to thunder loudly in her ears. He had written it for her to find. A written message of words that he wasn't able to say to her. Words that made her chest ache with love for him; words that made her body almost frantic with need for him.

He felt it too.

No matter whether he said the words or not, Isabella knew it with every inch of herself, inside and out.

In a wonderful, romantic haze, and still clutching the journal tightly to her chest, she wandered back into the kitchen to try to start the work that she had to have ready for Monday morning. She was fairly certain that her mind was incapable of thinking about anything other than calling Cullen immediately, and having him come over.

She needed him close. She needed him kissing her. She needed him inside of her.

She put the journal down and leaned her back against the breakfast bar in contemplation.

_What to do?_

Her answer machine flashed ominously at her from its seat by the apartment door as she debated. Flashing like a devil's eye with unknown messages from people she probably didn't want to speak to.

With a heavy sigh, and with her thumbnail wedged firmly between her teeth, she pressed play.

"_You have three new messages...first message...Hi, Isabella, it's just your Nana calling to see if you had a good weekend. I miss you, sweetheart. Let me know about Thanksgiving. MWAH! See you, darling._"

Isabella smiled and shook her head.

"_Message two...Hey, Bella, it's J. Just seeing how you are. Leah said that you wanted to talk so...yeah, so anyway, I'm sorry that we haven't spoken in a couple of weeks. I...just give me a call, okay? Bye."_

Isabella stared at the machine in shock. Jamie hadn't been in contact since Chicago. He was such a fucking wuss. Not that it was his fault. He was a mama's boy after all. She remembered Cullen's request about meeting him. She wasn't sure that that would be such a good idea.

"_Message three...Hey, Isabella, it's Peter...I was just calling to see that you were okay. I don't like how we left our conversation last week. I know that you've still not forgiven me, but...I don't know. Text me. Bye."_

Isabella slammed her finger against the delete button as anger rushed through her veins. The guy needed to get a serious clue. Did he honestly think that she would text him because he asked? She didn't want anything to do with the son of a bitch. She leaned her palms onto the table, as she took a few deep breaths to try to calm down.

This was the shit reality that she had wanted to avoid at all costs. This was the reason why she wanted to stay at the beach house with Cullen forever. _Obstacles._ The obstacles were fucking everywhere. Jesus, she'd been home for an hour, and already she was ready to re-pack her bag and drive her ass back to the Hamptons, never to return.

She rubbed her face and turned back to the kitchen where Cullen's journal remained. Grimacing with the knowledge of what she had to do, Isabella opened the fridge to retrieve the bottle of white wine that she had been saving for a rainy day, or, alternatively, the raging shit storm that was currently battering at her romantic musings.

With a full glass and an exhausted moan, she sat down next to her schoolwork and picked up her cell phone.

It rang three times before he answered.

"Damn, baby, you miss me bad, huh?"

She could hear the cocky smirk in his voice and it immediately made her smile back.

"Like you don't miss me," she retorted as she sipped her wine.

"Eh," Cullen answered nonchalantly. "I guess."

She laughed lightly and leaned her head in her hand. Hearing him breathe down the phone was enough to make her stress levels drop quickly.

"Well, I just wanted to call you and say thank you."

"Thank you?"

"For your journal."

He paused and laughed nervously. "You're welcome." He cleared his throat. "Did you read it all?"

"Yes."

"Did you like it?"

"I loved it."

"Good." Isabella smiled at the adorable nervousness that she could detect in his voice. She closed her eyes and imagined the fidgeting that he was no doubt doing.

"Bella, are you okay?" he asked gently, all hint of uneasiness gone. "You're quiet."

"Not really," she replied in a regretful breath. "It seems reality has hit faster than I thought."

Cullen remained silent, waiting for her to explain.

"Peter called. He left a message."

All Isabella heard was a sharp intake of breath and something that sounded like the snapping of teeth.

"What the fu-…" he growled. "What did he say?"

His tone was curt, but Isabella knew that it wasn't personal. It was just how he operated.

"He said that he was unhappy about how we left the conversation last week." She swallowed and bit her lip. "He wants me to text him."

Cullen was silent for a beat sending Isabella's heart plummeting in panic.

"Have you?" he bit out.

"No!" Isabella exclaimed. "I want nothing to do with that sack of shit. I told you that."

"Alright," he replied in placation. Isabella could practically hear him pulling and pushing at his hair.

"Fuck," he grumbled. "That bastard knows how to try my fucking patience."

"I'm sorry," Isabella murmured. "But I wanted to be honest with you."

"I know, Bella, and I appreciate that shit." He took a deep breath and a lighter sounded in the background. "It's fine. It's not you that's in the wrong here. It's my dickhead cousin."

Isabella sipped her wine and slumped in her seat. "The weekend already seems so long ago," she said softly with a wry smile as she looked at the time. It was eight-fifteen.

"Tell me about it," Cullen agreed. He was quiet for a moment. "How much work have you got done?"

Isabella smiled, "None."

She fingered the pages of paper that lay on the table waiting for her attention ad then glanced back at the journal. "Wanna come over?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I just…I want you here." Isabella wrapped her arm around herself. "I'm not ready for the real world yet."

"Give me a half hour, baby," Cullen said without hesitation. "I'll be there." His voice became low, sexy, and full of promise. "I'll make you forget all this bullshit."

"I know you will. I'll let Fred know to let you straight up."

"Good. See you soon."

"Bye."

Isabella clicked end call and placed her phone in her pocket. Wanting to leave her apartment to clear her head before Cullen arrived; Isabella threw on a black hoodie, and made her way down to the lobby. Fred smiled widely at her as she approached.

"Good evening, Miss Swan," he chimed. "How are you?"

"I'd be better if you'd call me Isabella," she admonished with a playful flash of her eyes.

"Apologies…_Isabella_," he said with a dip of his chin.

"My friend Mr. Cullen will be here in about thirty minutes. He's been here a couple of times before. Will you let him straight up?"

Fred picked up a pen and made note. "Is he the tall gentleman with the…tattoos and…bruises?"

Isabella smirked. "Well, his bruises aren't as bad as they were, but yes, that would be him."

Fred appeared suddenly nervous, giving a sharp nod of his head, "Of course, Miss Sw-…Isabella."

"Thank you, Fred," Isabella said with a smile. "And he's really not as scary as he looks, you know."

Fred chuckled lightly and raised his eyebrows. "I will take your word for it."

Isabella laughed. "Good evening, Fred."

"Good evening, Isabella," Fred replied with a tip of his hat.

Isabella turned back from the desk and made her way back to the elevators. It was as her hand lifted to press the button that a figure, moving behind her, caught her attention. As realisation struck, Isabella spun around with a surge of anger and complete shock, and glowered at the small woman before her.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she spat.

Alice's face showed no sign of surprise at the reception she was receiving, and took a step closer. "I came to talk to you."

Isabella blanched and scowled. She let out a bark of sarcastic laughter. "I have _nothing_ to say to you."

She turned back to the elevator and pressed the already lit button, praying for it to hurry the fuck up.

"Well, I have plenty to say to you," Alice said quickly.

Isabella looked at her over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes.

Why the hell was she there, and how the hell had Isabella not noticed her in the middle of the fucking lobby?

Isabella's blood suddenly ran cold

_Fuck._ What had she heard?

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked, as anxiety crept around her throat, making her voice shake.

Alice's eyes looked pointedly to Fred at the desk and then slowly returned to Isabella, "Long enough."

**Holy shit, Batman!**

**It starts. **

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	36. Chapter 36

**Greetings!**

**Thank you again for all your words of support. I am running out of things to say to show my gratitude, but know that all your reviews, good and bad, mean the world to me.**

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**This chapter was a struggle. My writing mojo was MIA for a while. I hope I don't disappoint you all.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 35: Accepting the Consequences**

"_Deep down even the most hardened criminal is starving for the same thing that motivates the innocent baby: Love and acceptance"_ ~ **Lily Fairchilde**

Cullen ended his call with Bella, threw his cell phone down onto the sofa, and hurried to the bathroom, stripping as he went, leaving a trail of rumpled clothing in his wake.

With a smile, he stepped into the shower and basked happily in the heat of the water as it pummelled his face and body. To say that he was pleased that Bella had invited him over sooner than originally planned was an understatement.

As much as Cullen knew, deep down that, it was unnecessary to worry about Bella's feelings towards his cousin - she had been more than a little clear about her opinion of him - hearing that Peter had called her again set his damned teeth on edge.

_Motherfucker._

As soon as he had heard the slight tone of distress in his girl's voice, Cullen immediately felt the need to be near her, protecting her, but, similarly, he didn't want to suffocate her. Cullen knew that what he felt for Bella was growing exponentially every second. There was no stopping it. The proverbial dam had broken, his barriers were down, and his mind, body, and soul were filling quickly with strong feelings and desperate needs for his Peaches.

He was heavy with them. Hard with them.

They filled him from the tips of his toes to the crown of his fucking head.

Bella was the most independent, strong headed person that he knew, save for Rosalie, and his natural caveman instincts to defend what was his and smother her with his longing and hunger had the potential to do more harm than good.

He rubbed the soapsuds from his eyes.

He couldn't fucking help it though. _Jesus._ It was hard enough before, but now that he knew how Bella felt about him, and he, in kind, had shown her his journal, his need to be with her, touching her, and fucking her, was damn near impossible to contain.

It had taken a shit load of strength to stay in one place and watch her drive away from him at the beach house. The gravitational pull that was constantly between them, almost took his feet from beneath him, urging him to jump onto _Kala,_ and follow Bella home. Shit, he'd even contemplated holding her hostage and taking her hard on the hood of her Mini.

As ridiculous and as fleeting as the idea was, the force with which it came was staggering.

Cullen switched off the water and quickly wrapped a towel around his waist. He'd be with her soon enough, he thought. He'd have her beneath him, screaming out his name within the hour, and have his mouth on her delicious pussy in half that. He'd make her forget about that prick Whitlock.

Running his hands through his wet hair while whistling _Here Comes the Sun_, Cullen wandered back into his bedroom and through to the living room to grab a clean pair of jeans from the laundry room.

"FUCK!" Cullen shouted as he jumped back a mile, hitting his shoulder on the door frame, clutching one hand to his chest in shock and one to his towel so that the fucker didn't fall to the floor.

Rosalie looked up at him from her casual perch on the edge of his couch.

"Jesus, Rose," he gasped with a shake of his head. "You gave me a fucking heart attack!"

She looked at him with a nonchalant shrug and suspicious eyes. Cullen swallowed.

"What are you doing here?"

He _had_ given her a key, but Jesus; she could have called to warn him.

Rosalie exhaled down her nose and bit the inside of her mouth, making her lips purse slightly.

"I tried your cell phone," she said in a low voice. "It was turned off." She lifted it up and twisted it in her fingers. "All weekend."

Cullen crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly very aware of his nakedness. "Yeah," he bit back. "I needed some time away." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I went to the beach house."

Rosalie lifted her chin in understanding. "Alone?"

Cullen sighed in irritation. Her protectiveness was endearing but, fuck it, he was a grown ass man, and he didn't need to answer to anyone. "Why?"

Rosalie's eyes narrowed infinitesimally, knowingly. "You went with _her_, didn't you?"

Cullen felt his hackles rise immediately. "Oh, give it a fucking rest, Rosie," he snapped, and stormed towards the laundry room.

"No," she called back. "I will not give it a rest." He heard her heels click loudly against the wood floor as she followed.

Cullen could feel her at the back of him, but chose to ignore her. He wasn't about to have another argument about something that she really had no business getting involved in. He riffled irritably through the pile of clean clothes that rested on the top of the dryer.

"After what she did?" Rosalie screeched in disbelief from her spot by the door.

"I _told_ you about that!" Cullen fumed as he span around to face her. "I told you that it was a misunderstanding." He pushed his pointer finger into his bare chest. "_I_ was in the wrong as much as she was_. We're_ both over it, Rosalie. Why aren't _you_?"

He barged past her, clipping her shoulder as he did.

"Over it?" Rosalie exclaimed in a way that made Cullen stop dead with his palm flat against his bedroom door.

"You were two seconds from shoving an eight ball of coke up your fucking nose when I got here!" Her voice shook in anger and hurt. "You called _me _that night, begging for my help! Don't tell me to 'get over it,' Cullen! I _can't_!"

_Fuck._

Cullen took a deep breath and turned slowly with a remorseful dip of his chin. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor before he let them lift gradually to Rosalie's face. His heart shattered when he saw the expression that lay there. She looked devastated, indignant, but worse than both of those was the look of disappointment that etched her features. Her blue eyes shimmered with frustrated tears, and her usually beautiful face twisted with pain that _he_ had caused.

"Shit," he muttered. Cullen took a small step towards her and sighed when she moved back from him.

"Don't," she warned sharply. "Don't come near me."

Cullen lifted his arms at his sides in defeat. "Then what do you want me to do, Rose? _You_ tell me?"

She didn't even take a breath. "I want you to tell me why you allowed this woman to treat you like shit and then whisked her away to a beach house that is so special to you, even _I_ haven't been there."

She crossed her arms over her chest. The volume of her voice dropped. "This is clearly not just about fucking your teacher to prove a point, and I want to know what the hell is so damned special about her."

Cullen couldn't help but detect a hint of jealousy in her tone, but he understood it instantly. His and Rosalie's relationship had never been _that _way. _Ever_. He knew that she didn't see him in any other way than a sister would regard a brother, and vice versa, but, truthfully, they both knew that she had always been the 'woman' in his life. Rosalie had always come first when they were together, or when one of them needed something from the other.

Jesus, she was right. When he had been falling apart because of Bella and Peter, she had been the first person that he had called. He hadn't thought of anyone else. He had been a fucking mess when she had arrived, drunk and practically incoherent, and yet she'd sat patiently, quietly, for hours as he had spewed his vitriol and anger.

No wonder she thought him to be fucking crazy.

"Fuck, Rosie," he muttered with a shake of his head. "I'm...shit, I'm sorry."

Her face softened slightly but her stare was still hard.

"As you should be," she retorted. "You told me that you felt something for her and that she went off to fuck your asshole of a cousin. You told me that you hated her, wanted nothing to do with her, and then you go away with her to...well, shit, whatever." She shivered in revulsion at the thought.

"I don't get it, Cullen. What the hell is stopping me from ripping her head off for hurting you, and then doing the same to you for hurting me?"

Cullen exhaled down his nose and glanced down at himself. "Look, let me put some clothes on and I'll explain, okay?"

Rosalie shifted from one foot to the other, clearly mulling over his offer. She clicked her tongue in aggravation and rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she conceded with a huff, and made her way back to the sofa.

Back in his bedroom, Cullen quickly pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, glancing at the clock to see that he had fifteen minutes to get to Bella's. He cursed under his breath. That shit wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

He wandered back into the living room and snatched his cell phone from the couch. He ignored Rosalie's pointed stare as he typed a quick text.

_Baby, Rose just arrived. She wants to talk. I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm sorry. X_

He sent it, pushed his phone into his pocket, and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Do you want a drink?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Me too," Cullen grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge and landed heavily on the sofa next to Rosalie. They sipped in silence, ignoring the huge fucking elephant that sat between them.

Cullen lit a smoke in an effort to distract himself, but the expectation that rolled off the woman seated to his right made that shit damn near impossible. He felt like he was under a damned microscope, and he didn't like it.

"So," Rosalie encouraged with a dismissive wave of her hand. Her voice smacked of sarcasm, but Cullen managed to hold his tongue.

"So," he echoed. He sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. With his cigarette still held between his pointer and middle finger, Cullen rubbed his hands down his face and groaned.

Where the fuck did he start?

"Start from the beginning," Rosalie suggested as she sat back and crossed her legs.

Cullen looked at her and smirked. She knew him so well; of course, he owed her the truth. If he and Bella were to be accepted by the people that they both cared about, they _had_ to be honest and upfront. Yes, there were risks, but he trusted Rosalie implicitly. If he told her to keep that shit quiet, she would do. To the grave.

He stubbed his out smoke and clasped his hands together, letting them dangle uselessly between his knees. "Rosie, I know I owe you an explanation, and I _will_ give it to you, but you have to promise to keep quiet while I tell you this."

He looked at her over his shoulder. She remained silent. A small twitch of her eyebrow told Cullen it was safe to continue.

"You're right," he began quietly. "Bella and I…It's not just about fucking." A small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. "It's about...so much _more_ than that."

"I know what I said about her that night suggests otherwise, but…" He rubbed at the warm sensation that bloomed in the centre of his chest as he thought about his Bella. "She's everything to me, Rosie."

He felt rather than saw Rosalie move at his side. When she touched his forearm, he turned to see her looking confused and a little stunned. His tone must have said it all.

"God, Cullen," she whispered as her eyes flittered between his in wonderment and surprise. "Are you in lo-"

_Not yet._

"You see...Bella and I have a lot of history," he interrupted before the immortal words fell from her lips.

His heart pounded as the unsaid words floated around him, whispering softly into his ear. He found a spot on his right foot, just above his big toe, and stared at it.

"You have to understand," he continued firmly. "She means more to me than any other woman that I have ever been with. Infinitely more."

His hands ran slowly through his hair as his chest tightened. "Jesus, none of them comes close."

He cracked the knuckles on his right hand and licked his lips.

"The first time I met Bella Swan wasn't at Arthur Kill five months ago," he continued with a long breath as he looked back at Rosalie. "It was when I was eleven years old...when I saved her life."

=PoF=

Isabella strode back into her apartment and cringed inwardly when she heard the door click shut behind her. It sounded so final, like a death knell. Isabella prayed to God that that was _not_ the literal truth. She took a deep breath and pushed her hair behind her ears while simultaneously pushing down her anger, fear, and panic, as it crept silently up her throat.

She and Alice had not said a single word during their elevator journey back up to her floor, and Isabella was about ready to rip the skin from her bones. She threw her door key down onto the coffee table and turned to look at the woman who had, the last few months, become a complete stranger to her.

Alice's face gave nothing away. No familiarity, no consolation. She simply stared back at Isabella, seemingly waiting for _her_ to start talking. What the fuck she expected her to say exactly, was not clear. What _was_ clear, from the words that Alice used in the lobby, was that she meant business; she was there to cause more trouble, create more obstacles.

Isabella felt her chest get heavy at the thought. _Fuck._ It wasn't fair. Why couldn't the Whitlock's, her mother, everyone, just leave her and Cullen alone? She crossed her arms over herself, trying to keep her shit together. Inside, her determination and strength felt sickeningly unstable.

_Fuck. Be strong, Isabella. Be strong. _

The fear that she felt in her bones and tasted at the back of her mouth enraged her. Isabella despised her fear. She always had.

Isabella Swan didn't fear any_thing_ or any_one_.

Until Edward Cullen thundered back into her life.

The thought of someone taking him away from her, filled Isabella with a dread so horrific that she refused to allow herself to contemplate it for more than a split second. She'd fight. _My God._ If Alice, or any one of the fuckers who were against them, tried to separate her from Cullen, Isabella would fight like never before. Her love for him was overwhelming and beautifully terrifying. It made her blood boil and her mind go crazy.

As she thought of Cullen, the unsteady feeling slowly began to ease. At the same time, her spine straightened in preparation for whatever Alice had up her lying, deceitful sleeve.

Isabella felt her lips turn into a small smile of satisfaction as a sudden realisation hit her: Alice had no fucking clue what the hell she was messing with.

"What's funny?" Alice asked quietly.

The power stance that she had adopted in the lobby was gone, replaced with small, sloping, soft shoulders. The firmness that had also been so visible on her face had all but disappeared.

"Nothing," Isabella snapped back. "What are you doing here?"

Alice sighed and opened her mouth to speak. She hesitated. "Can we sit?"

"No."

There was no flash of surprise on Alice's face at Isabella's curt reply. "Fine," she conceded with an exhale.

She removed her hands from the pockets of her black trench coat and fisted them by her stomach. She gestured towards Isabella. "You look well. You look...really well."

Isabella managed to hold her eye-roll. "Get to the point, Alice," she remarked with no inflection to her voice.

"Okay," Alice replied with a slightly raised voice and her palms turned towards Isabella. "Okay, just...I'm trying here, just back off a minute."

Isabella's mouth opened with an audible pop. "Back off?" she echoed incredulously. "Back off? Are you fucking insane? How dare you come to _my_ apartment, threaten me, and tell _me_ to back off!"

Isabella took three large steps in Alice's direction. "Do us both a favour and listen to your own advice, Alice." She thrust a pointed finger towards the apartment door and leaned in closely.

"Go back to your fiancé and his brother and tell them whatever the fuck you want because I. Don't. Give. A. Shit!"

"They don't know that I'm here," Alice said softly. Her calm voice belied the anxiety that was prevalent in her wide eyes as Isabella glowered at her.

There was a heavy pause. "What?"

"Jasper and Peter," Alice confirmed with a small shake of her head. "They don't know that I'm here."

Isabella felt her breaths start to even out and her heart begin to slow. "What?" she repeated as her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"I told Jazz that I was going to get some ice cream." Alice tried to smile meekly, but Isabella ignored it. "And I wasn't threatening you. Honestly. I said what I did in the lobby so that you would let me up here and hear me out. I knew you wouldn't if I didn't do that."

Isabella's phone beeped from its place on the table by the work that she had left, and the journal that she cherished, but she kept her eyes on Alice's. Was she for real?

"I don't understand," she admitted through tight lips. "If Jasper and Peter don't know, then why are you here?"

Alice glanced at the sofa and then back at Isabella with pleading eyes. Isabella batted the pinhead of sympathy that tried to sneak its way into her heart.

"I want to talk."

"About what?"

"About us...about what happened."

"I have nothing to say. I told you that."

"But _I_ do," Alice countered.

"And why should I care?"

"Because we're-"

"Don't you dare even _think_ to say friends, Alice. I swear to God." Isabella's hands gripped the biceps of her opposite arms in anger.

"You weren't my friend when you accused me of sleeping with my student, when you kept secrets from me about Cullen, about Peter, or when my own mother slapped me, so _don't _you _dare_, Alice. Don't."

Alice's face twitched with remorse. Again, Isabella ignored it. It was time to cut the shit and be real. Of all the things that Alice Brandon owed Isabella, truth was most definitely one of them.

"Ten minutes," Alice whispered. She nibbled on the right side of her bottom lip. "Just give me ten minutes. That's all I want."

"I don't owe you anything," Isabella fumed.

Alice nodded in agreement. "I know."

Isabella took a breath and gritted her teeth. She was intrigued as to why Alice had suddenly had an attack of conscience, but that didn't mean that the urge to rip her head off had diminished any. If this was a trap, then Isabella had to be extraordinarily careful. Everything hung in the balance of the conversation that she was about to have, and the weight of that realisation made Isabella's shoulders curl inwards. With the devil looking straight at her, and the deep, blue sea at her rear, there really were no options left.

Praying to all that was holy that she was making the right decision, she breathed deeply and kept her voice even. "Ten minutes."

Alice's eyes widened, seemingly taken aback. Her mouth twitched with a relieved smile before she edged her way around Isabella and made her way towards the couch. As she unfastened her coat, placed her bag on the floor, and sat down, Isabella moved over to the table and picked up her cell. Her heart stuttered and thumped in panic and excitement when she saw Cullen's name on the screen.

She couldn't help but smile wryly when she read his text message. _Rosalie_. It seemed the obstacles had hit them both, hard and fast. She replied quickly, trying to think of words that would keep his alarm to a minimum. She knew what seeing Alice's name would do to him.

_Don't worry, sweetheart. Talk to her. Alice is here. I'm fine, I promise. She wants to talk too. I've given her ten minutes._

She sent the message with a hard swallow. She picked up her glass of wine and, subconsciously, clutched Cullen's journal to her chest. She sat down on the chair next to the sofa and waited for Alice to start. _This should be interesting_, she thought dryly.

Alice clasped her hands together and kept her eyes down to the floor. Isabella had to admit, seeing her that way was unsettling. Alice had always been so self-assured and apparently infallible. She looked tired, withdrawn, and nervous as hell. Isabella was surprised that the sympathy she had batted away when Alice had first arrived didn't return.

"I've been meaning to come over for a while now," Alice started, keeping her gaze fixed on her hands. "I called...I...I _tried_."

Isabella remained silent and sipped her wine.

"The first thing I wanted to say to you…" She sighed and looked up slowly. "I'm so sorry, Bells. Truly."

Isabella remained stoic. The apology was somewhat heartfelt, and the pleading in her eyes made Isabella believe that she meant it, regardless, it was nearly a month too late.

"And?" she asked with a lackadaisical shrug of her shoulders.

Alice, for a brief moment, looked mystified. "And...And I wanted you to know that."

"Fine," Isabella countered as she placed her glass on the table. "You've said that you're sorry. Now that your conscience is clear, you can leave." She gestured with her chin towards the door.

Alice frowned over puzzled eyes. "But you gave me ten minutes."

Isabella glanced quickly at the clock that hung on the kitchen wall. She had eight minutes left.

"Start talking," she directed as she sat back in her seat.

Ordinarily, Isabella's brusque attitude would have made her feel bad - it wasn't in her nature to be so uncivil - but that simply wasn't the case. The woman seated in her apartment was not to be trusted. Although they had been friends for a long time, all bridges between them had been burned, demolished. A quick apology did not erase the cruel words and secrets that hung in the air around them like a noxious gas.

Alice licked her lips, ran her hands through her hair, fidgeted, but never spoke. The beep of Isabella's cell phone shattered the tense silence. She picked it up from the table, ignoring Alice's questioning glance.

_She's there? _Cullen had typed. _Are you sure you're okay? What the fuck does she want?_

_I'm sure. She wanted to apologise. I don't care. I just want her to leave. How's Rose?_

_She's ok. I told her. I told her 'everything'. She wants to speak to you. Call me if you need me._

_I will. I love you._

_I know._

Isabella felt her anxiety disappear from her body like air leaving a deflating balloon. For Cullen to say that he knew that she loved him was more than she could have ever hoped for. She pushed her phone into her pocket, and tucked her legs underneath herself, exaggerating the wave of relaxation that had suddenly washed over her.

"Is that him?" Alice asked gently. Isabella's eyes shot up to her, annoyance shooting through her veins like a lightning bolt.

"My messages are none of your business," she spat. "And you're wasting the six minutes you still have left."

Alice's eyes dropped from Isabella's in acquiescence. "I'm sorry. I don't deserve your trust, Bells, I know, but believe me when I say that my opinions of...Cullen were made from what I had been told by Peter."

She shrugged as if to excuse her judgemental bullshit. "I trusted Peter."

Isabella scoffed. "And you didn't trust me; your supposed friend for the better part of ten years." She shook her head and bit her lip in frustration. "I told you all about Cullen. I told you how I felt. You met him for fuck's sake. Here. And you lied."

"Why did I lie?" Alice asked with a grimace.

"You called yourself Alice _Whitlock_," Isabella replied loudly. "You don't marry Jasper until Christmas. You were sending Cullen a warning, and_ I_ was too fucking blind to see it because I trusted you."

Alice's shoulders shrunk in silent admission.

Isabella's voice became acidic, accusatory. "You said that you loved me, Alice, and that you wanted what was best for me, and yet you hurt me more than anyone has before. You judged me. You judged Cullen, and instead of listening to _me_ and how _I_ was feeling, you went and made your own ridiculously blind assumptions!"

"I know," Alice repeated.

"You never once came to me to ask what_ I_ was going through, what _I_ knew about Cullen. You just let Peter fucking Whitlock piss into your ear." Isabella's rage grew with every word. "Peter Whitlock: The man who is desperate for Cullen's money."

Alice's head snapped to Isabella's. Her skin washed a grey, guilty colour that left her cheeks pallid and her eyes dark.

"Yes, I know all about the money and the company, Alice," Isabella sneered before adding sardonically, "I'm surprised Peter didn't tell you after I saw him last week."

"I promise you, Bells," Alice said through a thick throat. "I didn't know about the money or Cullen's share in it until Jasper told me two days ago."

Isabella shook her head to show her disbelief and laughed humourlessly.

"It's true," Alice pushed. "We had a huge argument about it." Her voice dropped with her chin.

Isabella watched as two small tears slipped down Alice's cheeks. A tiny pang of sympathy occurred in her stomach, but she kept her face sullen and cynical. She'd cried plenty of tears over the whole fucked up mess, and Alice hadn't been there to comfort her. Isabella would be damned if she was going to console _her_ any.

"I have no reason to believe a word that you say, Alice."

"I _know_," she conceded again with a frustrated hand through her hair. "I know that I have no right to be here, or to ask for your trust, but I swear to you, I have no ulterior motive. I just...I miss you. And I'm sorry, and I want to explain."

Alice sat forward, perching on the edge of the couch, making Isabella sit back slightly. Her proximity was not at all copasetic. "I want you to be at my wedding," Alice continued. "I want to hear about how you are and what's new in your life."

"I can't give you any of that," Isabella said without hesitation. Her voice was hard and cold in her own ears, but she didn't care.

She had never considered Alice a selfish person, but she certainly seemed that way with what_ she_ wanted. "I can't give you any of that," Isabella added. "Because I don't trust you as far as I could throw your lying ass."

Alice blanched slightly at Isabella's crude words.

"I can't do that until _I_ know what Peter told you about Cullen," she continued. "_I_ want to know why you didn't tell me about the fact that your fiancé is Cullen's cousin. _I_ want to know why you were so deceitful and judgemental, when all _I_ needed was a friend to listen and support me. You saw what happened between my mom and me in Chicago, but _you_ didn't care. _You_ just watched me leave."

Isabella swallowed hard, pushing the emotion back down into the dark recesses of her stomach.

Alice took a deep breath and folded her arms around herself with a slow nod. She glanced fleetingly at the clock. "I don't have long enough," she said quietly.

Isabella didn't miss the double meaning in her words. She picked up her wine glass and finished the last dregs. The warmth of the alcohol bloomed in her chest, making her feel bolder, more confident.

"You have this one chance, Alice," she said with a pointed stare. "Cut the bullshit and don't waste it."

The two women looked at one another for a long, uneasy moment, before Alice readjusted her position on the couch and cleared her throat. She dabbed at the wetness under her eyes with the pads of her fingers while Isabella stood to retrieve the bottle of wine to refill her empty glass.

After a moment of procrastination and with a large sigh, Isabella took another glass from the cupboard and placed it in front of a surprised looking Alice. She remained quiet while Isabella poured, and nodded in thanks as Isabella took her seat.

"I spoke to your mom," Alice said eventually, as she wound her fingers around her glass stem.

Isabella kept her face neutral. She wasn't surprised that the two of them had spoken. Isabella expected it. They would have waxed lyrical about Isabella's 'poor choices' and her 'inability' to make 'adult' decisions. Jesus, she thought sarcastically, the pair of them must have talked for hours.

"She's worried about you. She knows that she was...wrong. She shouldn't have done what she did, but you're so special to her. You should give her a chance to explain."

"Don't tell me what I should do," Isabella snapped. "I'll speak to her when _I_ want to, not when you tell me to."

"Of course," Alice replied meekly. "I just thought you should know."

"There's a first," Isabella muttered into her glass. If Alice heard her, she didn't let on. "So, while you are so set on sharing, tell me about Peter," Isabella said firmly, losing patience.

Alice's face regained an anxious edge. "Peter is...He's...he's not a _bad_ person, Bells."

Isabella narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

"He's business minded-"

"Business minded?" Isabella repeated acerbically. "Is that what you call bullying and using threats to claim something that isn't yours? You're so fucking blind, Alice."

"He doesn't want a criminal involved in the company, Isabella, surely you can understand that?"

"No, actually, I can't," Isabella retorted flippantly. "The company belongs to Cullen because it was left to him. Peter's nose is out of joint because _he_ wants it. It has nothing to do with image or being business minded. Peter is a manipulative, greedy bastard"-_as well as being a bullying, evil motherfucker_-"and it's about time you saw that."

"Cullen's told you a lot," Alice stated. There was nothing in her voice that suggested she was doing anything other, than making a simple observation.

"Yes," Isabella answered unwaveringly. "He has. He tells me a lot because we have trust. I know the concept might be slightly alien to someone like you."

"That's not fair," Alice defended.

"Fair?" Isabella scoffed. "I don't think you want to talk fair with me."

Alice put her glass down and sat forward. Her shoulders tensed and her fingers clasped together. "Look, Bells, I know that you're pissed, but can you hold the fucking sarcasm just for a moment? I can tell you this, only if you let me."

Isabella pursed her lips in amusement and exhaled heavily down her nose. "Fine."

"Thank you," Alice said with a long exhausted breath.

She paused briefly before she began talking. "When Peter and Jasper found out that it was their cousin that you were tutoring, they approached me and asked what I thought they should do. They weren't sure as to whether it was important that you knew. I agreed. At that point, Bells, I didn't know how you felt about Cullen-"

"You still don't," Isabella interrupted with a flash of warning in her eyes.

"I know that, but the truth is you got on well with Peter, and he really liked you." She focused on the wine glass in her hand. "He still likes you."

Isabella shifted uncomfortably on her seat. The thought of going anywhere near Peter made her stomach roll with nausea. And to think that she had thought about being with him that way. Christ, even then she had wanted Cullen so damned much.

"Peter told me that Cullen was bad news," Alice continued. "That he was dangerous."

Isabella smirked coldly. _Of course, he did._ It was almost laughable. Bad news or not, Cullen was double the man that Peter would ever be. She let her gaze fall onto his journal. _Everything._

Alice went on. "He told me that he had ties with known gangs, he was a dealer, and that he had menace and unsafe written all over him. I had no reason not to trust him. He had been Cullen's attorney after all. They were family."

"And what did Jasper say?" Isabella asked sharply.

Alice bit her lip and rubbed her chin with her index finger. "For the most part he agreed with his brother. He confirmed everything that Peter said..." She trailed off and sipped her wine.

"And?" Isabella urged.

Alice shrugged. "Jazz didn't seem to agree that Cullen was as dangerous or as bad as Peter had made out. He didn't defend him, but he certainly didn't show as much aggression towards Cullen as Peter did. I started to believe that Peter's hatred was somehow linked to _your_ relationship with Cullen. That he was jealous."

"And why would you believe that?" Isabella asked, even though her gut told her the answer before Alice even opened her mouth.

Alice looked Isabella square in the eye as she said, "Because I told him about your...feelings for Cullen. I knew that you were in deep with him, although I didn't explain that to Peter. I was worried, Bells." She paused.

"What the fuck did you say?" Isabella demanded. Her throat constricted in absolute fear and her lungs squeezed a cough of anxiety out of her dry mouth.

Alice looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with the woman that she had deceived and hurt so badly.

"I told him that you had a crush. I told him that it was a silly case of bad-boy-syndrome and that you would eventually see the light."

Isabella closed her eyes and tightened her lips for fear that the words of anger, hate, and revulsion would come spewing the fuck out. This was a surreal nightmare. There was no other explanation. Did the people that she had had around her, her whole life seriously believe her incapable of making her own choices, of making the right decisions for herself.

Goddmanit, she missed her father.

"That's why I said that I was a Whitlock when Cullen was here," Alice added quickly, noticing the wrath-like glaze that had taken over Isabella's face. "You're right, I _was_ warning him. I was warning him because I knew Peter would be pissed. I genuinely believed that Cullen would tell you about the connection. Looking back, I know that he had no reason to."

_...the fuck?_

"Alice, what were you thinking?" Isabella exclaimed. "It wasn't your place to assume, or make those kinds of decisions. You had no right!"

"I know!" Alice snapped back. "But I was concerned about you. I saw the way you looked at him when he turned up at your door. I was so scared that he was going to hurt you, get you into trouble. It was as if you were under his spell or something and, after what Peter had told me, I didn't trust him. You had a good-looking, charming guy who would have treated you so right, and I couldn't understand why you didn't want him. _He_ didn't understand."

Alice breathed and rubbed her palms down her face. "I wanted to be supportive, but I know how hard you worked to get where you are, Bells, I couldn't stand back and let you throw it all away."

"If I had thrown it all away it would have been _my_ choice, Alice. Not yours!" Isabella gripped the hair at her temples. "Jesus, Alice, you lied to me, you spoke to me like I was shit on your shoe. You talked about me, and made decisions about me, conspired. You accused me of behaving like a child. You above _all_ people know how that would have made me feel."

"I was scared," Alice cried. "I was petrified that you were going to be found out. I was mad at you for losing your head in a guy who was no good for you. All I could see was his criminal past, and the risks that that put you under, especially after what happened with you father. I mean, shit, Bells, he's also your student-"

The air left Isabella's lungs in an enormous whoosh that made her head feel light. "Don't you dare speak about my dad! Don't you fucking dare!" Tears sprang to her eyes and her fist clenched in fury and hurt.

Alice visibly recoiled and clapped her hand to her mouth as though she had just realised what words had left it.

"You don't know a fucking thing about him or Cullen," Isabella barked. "So shut your mouth!"

Isabella slammed her glass down onto the table and stood up. Her vision blurred with disgust, and her pulse slammed loudly in her ears. The disbelief that clouded her head was phenomenal.

How the hell could Alice place Cullen in the same league as the monsters that took her father away from her?

He saved her. He saved her _life_. If it hadn't been for Cullen, they wouldn't even be _having _the damned conversation. The irony was not fucking lost, but Isabella didn't have the strength or the inclination to argue or even explain. Alice didn't deserve that shit anyway.

When Isabella spoke, her voice sounded small and far away. "I think you should leave."

"Wait," Alice pleaded as she stood up too.

Isabella turned from her dismissively. "No."

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Isabella froze and her heart skipped entirely too many beats. "What?" she asked with her back still to Alice.

"I know you, Bells," Alice said quietly. "I know things like this. I can see it. Fuck, even _Peter _saw it."

At those words, Isabella span around. Her heart became wedged in her throat and her stomach rolled. "What? What do you mean, he _saw_ it?"

Alice dropped her hands to her sides. "He made a comment to Jasper last week after he had seen you. I was eavesdropping. He said that the way you reacted made him think that your feelings for Cullen were stronger than he originally thought."

Isabella's mind rushed at a thousand miles a minute. What the fuck was she meant to do? Could she deny it? Was that even possible? Was she meant to confirm that she loved Cullen with all her heart, and hope that Alice didn't say anything?

She knew that she couldn't trust Alice, but her choices were dwindling fast. She clenched her fists in panic. She couldn't lose Cullen.

She couldn't.

"Well, he's wrong," Isabella said, as evenly as she could.

The soft expression on Alice's face made Isabella think that she wasn't convinced. _Fuck_.

Alice smiled gently. "Is he good to you, Bells? Does he treat you right?"

Isabella bit the inside of her mouth and crossed her arms over her chest. She stayed silent, fighting the urge to run far away from the woman standing before her. _Be strong, Isabella_.

"You look happy," Alice continued in a voice that Isabella remembered fondly. "Love suits you. I know that he must be a good man to make you glow the way that you are." Her eyes travelled over Isabella's face. "I know it's too little too late, but I can admit when I'm wrong. I know that he isn't bad, and I know that with him you are safe. I should have trusted your judgement, and I didn't. I'm so sorry."

Paranoia and anger flared up Isabella's spine. "Fantastic," she snarled. "So now you can go and confirm it all to Peter, can't you?" She stormed towards the apartment door and yanked it open.

"That's not why I came," Alice muttered towards the floor before she started to rifle through her bag. She pulled out two brown folders and placed them carefully on the coffee table between the two wine glasses. "I wanted to give you these."

She stood up slowly, picked up her jacket, and moved sluggishly towards Isabella.

"And what are they?" Isabella asked curtly, avoiding Alice's gaze.

"They're jobs."

Isabella cocked an incredulous eyebrow. "Jobs?" she echoed.

"Yeah, teaching jobs, tutoring opportunities, with starting dates for the New Year," Alice answered. She looked down at her feet and sighed. "One of them is at the school where I'm currently working. I think you'd be perfect so…"

She cleared her throat and looked towards the ceiling. "I know I went about it in entirely the wrong way, Bells, and I will always be sorry for that, but I want you to be happy, and I know now that Cullen does that. Leah said that you were, but I had to see it for myself."

Isabella leaned heavily against the doorframe.

"But if you are with him, you have to be careful, Bells. If the company, or Peter finds out that you two are in love-"

"I thought you said that he wasn't a bad person?" Isabella questioned sharply.

"He isn't," Alice replied firmly. "But that doesn't mean that he doesn't make bad decisions. He has to answer to a lot of important people and they want Cullen out too." She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder.

"Just look at the folders. If you are Cullen's tutor and you are together, you are both at risk. And not just from WCS. I can underplay the relationship that you have with Cullen to Peter, but think about Newton, the parole board. There is so much at stake. You can't remain a secret for the next seven months-"

"You think I don't kno-…" Isabella snapped her mouth shut. _Shit._ She'd already said too much.

She glanced at the folders, breathed deeply, and then looked quickly back at Alice who was half way out of the door.

She couldn't help the derisive snarl that appeared on her face. "You're giving me these so that I'll leave Arthur Kill and finally make _everyone_ happy? Christ, my mother would be fucking thrilled. She wants this too, you know. None of you cares what I want. None of you. Are you doing this for her too?"

Alice shook her head. "No, Bells, it's not for her, or me. Believe it or not, I'm giving you these to help, so that you can be with Edward Cullen."

Isabella closed her mouth and blinked slowly.

_Don't trust her. Don't trust her._

"Think about it," Alice said with a tip of her chin back to the table. "I'm here if you want to talk."

She moved her hand towards Isabella's, but pulled it away at the last minute. "I _am_ sorry, Isabella."

She hesitated briefly before she closed her coat around herself, and made her way down the hallway, away from a speechless and somewhat terrified Isabella.

=PoF=

Cullen pulled Bella closer, wrapping his arm around her waist and sliding his knees in tightly behind hers. They were both fully clothed, under the covers of her bed where Cullen had placed her after she had almost strangled him when he had arrived at the apartment a half hour before. She had flung herself at him, stifling her sobs into his shoulder, as he shushed and soothed her as best as he could. She had been a panicked mess.

She'd relayed the basics of her conversation with Alice to him - although, she had had to stop when her tears came too hard - and, from what Cullen understood, he still considered Alice an untrustworthy waste of space. She was marrying a Whitlock for fuck's sake; bitch _must_ have had a fucking screw loose.

Before the tears had come too hard, she'd also mentioned how Peter had described his ass to Alice, explaining, but not excusing, her reaction to her best friend being anywhere near him. _A criminal._ Cullen was immediately ready to scour the city for the Whitlock motherfucker. He was such a cocksucker. He was jealous, plain and simple. Cullen couldn't help but revel in the slight feeling of 'go-fuck-yourself-Whitlock' that warmed his belly.

Of course, he was fucking jealous. Cullen had gotten the girl. _Go me._

He kissed Bella's hair and nuzzled the nape of her neck. "You okay, baby?" he whispered.

She hummed in reply and squeezed his hand closer to her chest.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I'm thinking about Alice and how much I don't trust her," she answered in a low, tired voice.

It pulled Cullen apart to see and hear his Bella so desolate and broken, and it stabbed at his guilt to think that he had something to do with the pain that she was experiencing. Of course, he was with her for as long as she would have him, but all the bullshit that came with their relationship was a lot for anyone to take. Deep down, he couldn't help but worry about how long his Peaches would put up with it.

_She loves you. She'll put up with it for you._

"Do you think that she will tell Peter?" he murmured under her ear lobe, choking back the bile that rose when he said the fucker's name.

"I don't know," she answered with a slight shake of her head. "I really don't know."

She moved his arm and shifted over, turning slowly until she was facing him. She pushed her face into his neck, curled her arms around his waist, and breathed him in. Cullen put his lips to her hair, and closed his eyes.

"I don't know what to do or think," she mumbled into his skin. "I just know that I want you here with me."

"I _am_ here, Bella," he replied as he stroked her back with the palm of his hand. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. Ever."

He'd told Rosalie the same thing not an hour before. It was fair to say that his conversation with her had gone a damn sight better than Bella's with Alice. Rosalie had even stated that she wanted to meet Bella properly, without raised voices and threats. He'd said so in his text to Bella, but she hadn't mentioned it. Cullen wasn't exactly sure that it was the right time to broach that particular subject with Bella, however.

He felt Bella's body stiffen in his arms and squeezed her reassuringly. "What is it?"

Bella pulled her head back and looked up at him through wet, clogged eyelashes. "Alice...left me something," she stammered. "Something for me to look at."

"Okay," Cullen said with a slow nod. He couldn't explain it, but his heart suddenly felt too heavy for his chest.

"She left me some job specs." She paused, glanced at her fingers that were playing in the hair on his chest just above the v-neck of his white t-shirt, and then looked back at him.

"Job specs," he repeated with a puzzled frown. "For jobs where?"

Bella shrugged and closed her eyes briefly. "I don't know. I haven't looked at them."

Cullen stared at her, trying to put the pieces together. He knew he was missing something, but his damn brain seemed to be on go slow. "Why would she do that?"

Bella licked her lips and moved her hand from his chest to the back of his neck where her fingertips danced gently across his skin.

"She wants me to get a new job," she breathed. "So that we can be together."

Cullen blinked in surprise. Well, fuck. He sure as shit wasn't expecting that. "Oh," he replied lamely.

"Mmhm," Bella replied towards her chest.

Cullen cupped her face, holding her jaw tenderly in the palm of his hand, and brought her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. He hated that she seemed so far away from him.

"And that's why you're worried about trusting her?"

She leaned into his touch. "Yeah."

She lifted her leg and placed her thigh onto his hip, wrapping her calf around him. As much as he revelled in the warmth and scent of her body, Cullen knew that it wasn't sexual, she simply wanted to be closer, needed more contact. He understood the need well.

"What is it that you're worried most about, Bella?" He rubbed his hand up her thigh. "Talk to me."

With a long breath, Bella rested her forehead against his. "I'm worried about so much, Cullen." Her voice shook as his name escaped her lips. "I'm scared that she's doing this so that she has proof that we're together. I'm afraid that she'll go to Peter and he will use that against you. I'm terrified that he'll threaten you, and take you away from me...and I can't...I can't...he can't..."

Cullen pulled her to his chest and kissed her firmly, swallowing her soft whimpers and sobs, as her small hands gripped his shoulders. He felt the tremors of fear run up her spine under his touch. He hated it. He wanted to find the bastards who had made her feel that way, and make them wish they hadn't.

"Shhhh, Bella, I'm here," he said as gently as he could as anger pounded through his veins. "That fucker can't do anything. I won't let him, baby." He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her. His voice became dark, menacing. "If he wants the company he can fucking have it. He can have it all. The money means nothing, Bella. All I want is you."

He kissed her again, tasting her tears on her lips. "You're...you're everything I want or need."

She nodded despondently, her skin reeking of despair. Cullen felt his anger turn to panic. He felt like he was losing her.

"We can't let them win, Bella," he said firmly, pulling her face up to his. "Promise me, you won't let them win."

She shook her head, but it didn't appease him. He held her jaw tightly. "Say the words, baby. Say the words to me."

"I...I won't let them win, Cullen. I promise you. I promise. _No matter what the obstacles_."

His heart thumped loudly and his shoulders sagged in relief. He groaned in a mixture of frustration and desire as he held her closely. "You and me, sweetheart. Fuck, Bella, I..."

His tongue stopped dead, lying flaccid and unusable at the bottom of his mouth. He gritted his teeth and berated himself and his emotional ineptitude. _What the fuck?_ How could he not tell her how he felt? Jesus, his fucking body was bursting at the seams with emotions for her, and he simply could _not _express any of them. He kissed her neck and knotted his fingers into her hair, silently fuming and cursing himself.

"I won't be your tutor anymore," Bella mumbled against his rough cheek. He could hear the sadness in her voice, but felt the calming power of her skin against his. "If we do this, I can't be your tutor."

"I know," he answered forlornly. He'd think about having a new tutor and the antagonism he would feel towards them at a later date. Now was not the time. Now, it was all about his Peaches.

He lifted his head and looked deep into her eyes while cracking a crooked grin. "But I'll still have _you_, right?"

A small smile tugged at the sides of her mouth. "Yes," she replied as her palm slid down the side of his face. "You'll have me. You'll have all of me." She let her lips ghost across his. "Always."

"That's all I care about," he whispered as he gripped the back of her knee and pulled it higher above his hip. He pushed against her, needing to feel friction, needing to feel her heat. "All I want is you. You're all I ever wanted."

"God, I love you," she gasped as she pushed her hands under his t-shirt.

Her nails scoured his back and her tongue pushed forcefully into his mouth. He could taste her desperation and pushed back against her just as hard so she knew that he felt the same way.

"Fuck them, Bella," he growled as he cupped her ass. She was fucking miles away. "Come back to me. Be here. Be here with _me_. Right now," he demanded. "Don't think about them. We'll deal with it tomorrow. Let's have us before we have reality."

There was so much to discuss. So much to think about. There was so much at risk and so much that could tear them apart. Cullen clenched his eyes shut, pushing his fear as far away as he could. As long as the were together, he thought, everything would be alright. As long as they talked about it and accepted the obstacles around them, they would make it.

Bella whimpered and sucked on his bottom lip, nodding in agreement.

"Make me forget. _Please_," she begged. "Make me forget all of them."

Cullen groaned and rolled her over onto her back, holding her head in his hands like a vice while his mouth assaulted hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist and lifted from the bed, moving against him with frenzied thrusts and bursts of passion.

"Anything," he murmured against her throat.

Cullen grabbed the back of his t-shirt at the nape of his neck, and pulled it off over his head, leaving his hair in even more disarray. Bella's top went next, and then her plain white bra that skittered across her bedroom floor. Her sweats, with Cullen's jeans, followed closely behind.

He landed back on her naked body with a grunt, clasping her to him with his fingertips embedded in her hips. They writhed, mouths open, breaths passing from one to the other.

"Feel me," Cullen murmured as he placed Bella's hands over his heart and kissed her. "Feel what's important."

"Oh, _God_…"

"What do you want?" he asked the underside of her right breast as he licked the skin there.

"Everything," she replied.

_Jesus_.

Cullen travelled languidly down the length of her body with his eager mouth, nipping, sucking and teasing at the places that he knew would make her cry out; would make her back arch, and would make her pussy purr only for him. When his lips finally met the ones between her legs, he was sure that he saw fucking stars.

_Goddamnit._

"Oh, fuck, yes," she sighed, as her heels found his shoulder blades.

Her taste was fucking exquisite, creamy, and sour in all the right ways. Cullen hummed against her swollen, hot clit and lathered every inch of her with his mouth, as she writhed and moaned loudly. His rapid and willing tongue finally disappeared inside of her cunt, becoming part of her, pulsing into her tightness with every surge and dip of her hips.

_Never. Never would he grow tired of her this way. Never would he stop wanting her this way._

When she came, she came hard; her body making a perfect 'c' shape as she bowed upwards from the bed, screaming his name and pleading with him to never stop touching her. He pushed his face further into her, crying out for more of the wetness that drenched his mouth and chin. She laced her fingers together at the back of his head and held him to her pussy.

"Fuck," he mumbled into her flesh, as his eyes rolled back into his skull. "Fuck, _fuck_."

With his face smothered with her scent and come, and when her thighs closed around his head in an effort to stop his feasting, Cullen moved back up the curves and peaks of his Bella, losing himself to her and the electricity that he felt course through every inch of his body.

His cock throbbed, flicking against her stomach as he crawled over her, leaving a crystal clear trail of desire across her skin. Their mouths met once more, and Bella groaned as their tongues tangled, and he shared what he had taken from her.

_So sexy. Oh God, so fucking sexy._

With one sublime rise of her hips and one impatient push of his, he was inside of her, panting, groaning, and knowing unequivocally that nothing would ever come close to how he felt at that moment.

"_Peaches_."

With his eyes fixed on hers, Cullen drove into her.

Again. Again. Thrust. Pause. Thrust. Pause.

Christ, she felt so fucking good. She enveloped him like a second skin, snug, perfect, slick, and warm. He pushed further into her making her breath catch.

Goddamnit, he could feel her cervix kissing the tip of his dick with every plunge of his hips.

_Let me in. Let me in. I want deeper._

Again. Again.

Feeling his body start to take over, Cullen gripped the headboard of Bella's bed with both hands. He held on tight, feeling the muscles in his forearms and shoulders pull and cord with every thrust. The angle was fucking magnificent and got even better when Bella lifted her knees, almost to his shoulders, opening herself up for him so that he could plough deeper and harder.

"More," she moaned as her legs squeezed around him and her hand gripped the back of his neck.

He obliged immediately with a deep moan and a series of strong slaps of his thighs against hers. The grip that he had on the bed's headboard, when he felt her pussy clench, increased so much that he was sure the wood beneath his fingers was damn near splintering. He dropped his chin to his chest and rested his weight on his palms by her head when his orgasm began to shift.

_Not yet. Not fucking yet. I need more._

Suddenly, with a strong push against his chest, they rolled, and Cullen was on his back. They were kissing, gasping, and gripping each other for dear life. Cullen finally opened his eyes to see that Bella was above him, riding him, and bouncing gloriously; holding onto the headboard just as he did.

_So good._

"Don't fucking stop," he ordered before his throat began to bark out incomprehensible sounds and words.

He held her. Fuck, he held her so tight, as she moved up and down his dick. She looked sensational with her head thrown back, neck elongated, and her tits begging for his lips. He sat up with a moan and sucked her hard nipple into his mouth, unable to resist her any longer, and hummed into her soft skin when she bucked against him.

"Yes!" She cried out. "More."

He gave her more. Sweet Christ, he gave her everything. She wrapped her arms around his neck and soldered her lips to his, as she wound her pelvis in a luscious circle that nearly made him lose his damned mind.

"Close," he croaked as his hips started to piston upwards, lifting her knees from the mattress. His orgasm was building, deep in his balls, stretching to his stomach that tensed and relaxed in micro spasms as he fucked her.

Feeling all his energy start to push down into his groin, Cullen fell back onto the pillows, watching in breathless wonder and awe as Bella continued to pull it from him. She lifted and fell, she demanded and begged, she swivelled and clenched, she thrust and grasped until, with a furious roar, Cullen exploded into her.

Bright lights blinded him, as his body twitched and shivered beneath her. He held onto her, praying that she would anchor him to the earth and keep his heart from stopping all together.

"Ah, ah, ah," he panted, as his come shot from him like white-hot bullets, into her tight, wet body. "Oh, Bella, fuck...ah, ah...fuck."

She repeatedly clenched her muscles around his cock, milking him for all he was worth, making him throw back his head with a cry of almost painful pleasure.

"Sweet Jesus!"

Her small body eventually collapsed onto his chest, and he immediately felt her pulse as it raced under the delicately soft skin of her neck. His limp arms held her, spent and breathing heavily. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and his eyes closed of their own volition, despite his attempts at keeping them open.

"I love you, Edward," Bella whispered next to his left ear. "I love you so much."

Cullen felt his face crinkle with a smile at her words, and nodded tiredly into the crook of her neck.

"Everything," he replied.

She kissed his Adam's apple. "Come to Chicago with me. Be with me for Thanksgiving."

"Okay."

=PoF=

"Hello?"

"Vanessa?"

"Yes."

He gave a disgruntled sigh. "I tried calling you earlier. Where were you?"

"I had to eat with _him_," she replied with a sharp tone. "I couldn't exactly take your call when _he_ was so close by."

Silence. "Okay."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes. Things are alright. In fact, things are great."

"You mean…?"

"Not yet, but it won't be too long."

Vanessa swallowed and closed her eyes as she whispered a quick prayer of hope.

A soft gurgle and giggle came from the floor by her calves. She looked down and smiled at the dark trusting eyes and warm round face that gazed up at her.

_He was so like Jacob._

He gripped her jeans and moved his small, chubby legs in an effort to stand up. He barely wobbled anymore. He was getting so big. He smiled and blew a raspberry, showing off several tiny, perfectly white teeth. He held tight and began rocking back and forth on his heels as though he were dancing. It was his new favourite thing. His favourite music was the 'Foos'. He would bop and shake whenever he heard Dave Grohl. Boy had taste.

"Have you seen…Jacob?" she asked as she rested her palm gently on his soft black hair. Her finger disappeared into the small cow lick by his right temple.

"Yes."

Her heart spluttered. "Is he okay?"

"I saw him briefly. Across the street. He looks the same; tired, pissed, angry."

The last word sliced at Vanessa's heart. She'd never wanted him to hurt. She hated that it had been unavoidable. She hated that she was a part of it. She hated _him_ for being the reason for it. She'd take it all if she could. _In a heartbeat._

She breathed.

_Soon._ Soon she would help make that happen. She would see to it that Jacob was happy and safe. She would see him and try to tell him everything and pray to God that he would listen.

She looked down at her beautiful son.

Her gift. Jacob's gift to her.

_God, I hope he listens_.

She wanted so much to see the two of them together. Father and son. Just as it should be. Just as it should have always been.

"I'll send another list tomorrow morning," he aid quickly, resuming his business-like manner. 

"Same time, same place?"

"Yes."

"I'll be there."

Silence. "Take care." More silence. "Vanessa, I…Please, be careful-"

Vanessa smiled. "I know."

He cleared his throat. "Good."

The line went dead.

**Holy plot thickens, Batman!**

**I must have read and re-read this chapter a million times, and I still don't think I'm 100% happy with it, but you can be the judge.**

**The story feels like it's slowly coming to a close and, in my mind, I think it could be so at around 40 chapters. (This is chapter 35.)**

**But that's not a definite, so please don't panic too much. I love writing this story and want it to last as long as possible.**

**Thanks for sticking with me.**

**The beautiful genius that is Bellabee66 made a freakin' awesome video to accompany PoF. Go and watch and show your love with a comment: www.(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=Bjud4u1oslw**

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**Leave me love…or hate.**

**TTFN xxx**


	37. Chapter 37

**I am here, alive, and well.**

**Apologies for the delay and thanks for all the messages of support and patience that many of you have sent. I really appreciate them. Truly.**

**The PAW Princesses on Twitter have been amazing as well as being my own personal cheerleaders. Thank you, Ladies.**

**I'm sending PAW out, naked, to each of you.**

**RL and major writer's block have made writing anything almost impossible and, because it's never really happened before, I've been severely stressed and frustrated as a result.**

**Needless to say, PMs demanding an update 'immediately' didn't really help...**

**Anywho, my writing mojo ended its hiatus with a vengeance (I hit 20,000 words of this chapter in four days).**

**But 20k is far too big a chapter, even for a wordy bitch like me, so I decided that I would have to split it.**

**I will be updating the second part - which is already written – within the week.**

**See you on the other side...**

**Chapter 36: I'm Yours (Part One)**

"_All those arrows you threw, you threw them away_

_You kept falling in love, then one day_

_When you fell, you fell towards me_

_When you crashed in the clouds, you found me." _

_**Barcelona 'Please Don't Go.'**_

_**31 years ago...**_

"_I'm pregnant."_

_Aro Bartollini blinked several times in an effort to clear his head of the rush of horror that began to cloud his vision, and stared back at the raven-haired beauty before him, feeling his stomach turn, as his perfect world began to crumble and crash around him._

_Pregnant?_

_Holy fucking shit._

_Pregnant._

_His father would go apoplectic._

_He remained frozen to the spot, eyes wide and heart thundering in his ears. "Ho-How is that possible?" he stammered._

_She didn't answer. She knew that shit was rhetorical. She clasped her hands in front of herself; in front of the white apron that she wore every day in his father's house while she cleaned and did what she was paid to do._

_They both knew how the hell it had happened. Jesus, they had done nothing _but_ fuck since they had started three months before._

_Whenever they had been alone, or found a spare ten minutes when they wouldn't be disturbed, Aro had had her pushed up against a wall, spread across a table, or bent over his father's office desk._

_That particular moment had been fucking spectacular._

_But, every time that he had pushed into her small, tight, willing body, Aro had never considered the consequences. Never once had he considered that she would get pregnant._

_Pregnant._

_Shit, he needed to sit down._

_He leaned his ass against the wooden table behind him and clasped the bridge of his nose tightly. He was too young for this shit. Too damn young. He was twenty-one for fuck's sake._

_He wasn't old enough to be a...father._

_He was going to take over from his own father one day. He couldn't train and learn the ways of the Bartollini empire with a fucking kid crawling around his feet. _

"_What are we going to do?" she asked in a small voice. Her Puerto Rican accent became thicker when she was upset, or in the middle of her orgasm._

_Jesus, what had he been thinking?_

"_I don't know," he replied with a shake of his head, answering both her and his own silent question. He kept his eyes on the floor, unable to look up at her. He felt sick to his stomach, and his head pounded with a mixture of fear, repulsion, and anger._

_He couldn't comprehend the cost of her having his...having _it_. He was the first-born son of Antonio Bartollini, one of the most revered men in the continental US. There was no way that he would acknowledge a child birthed by the hired help, even if it _was_ his grandchild._

_Fucking hell, she was eighteen, and a maid, there was no way on Earth that it could happen. Fuck, she wasn't even Italian._

_The silence continued, stretching eons while simultaneously pushing the two would-be parents further and further apart._

"_You have to get rid of...it," Aro said finally, determinedly, towards the slate tiles below his feet. "That's the only answer."_

_The small gasp and whimper that came from her brought Aro's head up quickly. He looked over at her with fury in his eyes when he saw the refusal in hers._

"_But I..." She rubbed her flat navel. "It's life, Aro. I cannot take the life of my child. _Your_ child."_

_Aro shook his head violently and stood from his seated position with a start. He had to make her understand. He would lose fucking everything._

"_That _thing_ is nothing to do with me," he snapped as he pointed towards her stomach. "I want nothing to do with it."_

_Her beautiful, exquisite face crumbled. "You don't mean that, Aro."_

"_Yes, I do," he countered as he stalked towards her, furious and unwavering. "You will get rid of it immediately or suffer severely."_

_She did not cower back from him. She wasn't afraid. She had never been afraid of him. Her dark eyes searched his face in vain, looking for the man that she cherished._

"_But...I love you," she whispered. "I can't, Aro. Please don't make me."_

_She let out a whelp of pain when he grabbed her wrist and pushed her hard against the wall behind her. The air left her lungs in a loud whoosh._

"_You will do as you are told, and you will like it," he fumed. "I am the son of Antonio Bartollini, your boss, the man who will have your ass thrown into the Hudson if he finds out. I cannot have...that...with...a whore who probably fucked every guy from here to Timbuktu." _

_Her knees gave way under the weight of his cruel words, but he held her up by tugging her arm higher._

"_Stop, please," she begged. "You know me, Aro. I wouldn't. I love you."_

_He did know her. She had been a virgin their first time. She had wanted him so much. He had wanted her too. She had been so fucking beautiful beneath him._

_He shook his head in denial._

"_Stop saying that," he snarled. "I don't care. I want that thing gone by this time next week."_

_He pushed his free hand into his the back pocket of his black trousers, and pulled out a wad of cash held together with a beautiful silver clasp, engraved with the elegant Bartollini crest. He shoved the clip violently down her white blouse._

"_This should pay for it."_

"_Please, Aro," she whimpered as he released her tiny wrist. She slumped to the floor, desolate and sobbing._

_He straightened his shirt and took several deep breaths as he looked down at her, fighting back the disgust that he had for himself when he saw her tears. He flexed his fingers before running them through his hair. What a God-awful mess._

_He couldn't deny it. A part of him _did_ care for her. She was beautiful and funny, and cared for him in a way that no one else did. Yes, he did care for her, but not enough for her to ruin all that he was and would be._

"_If you defy me," he murmured icily. "Or you tell anyone about this, you will leave me with no other option."_

_The low, sinister tone of his voice sent the message home, loud and clear. She clapped both hands to her face, trying like hell to hold back the next round of devastated howls and tears. Her gentle, charming Aro was nowhere to be seen, or heard, within the monster before her. The man that she loved with all her heart, the man that she had loved from the very first moment she had seen him, was gone. Not even a shadow remained._

_The pain at that realisation was crippling._

_Never had she seen such cruelty in his eyes. She was sure that it would haunt her for the rest of her life._

_With her face buried into her knees, she heard his retreating footsteps against the cold kitchen floor._

"_And make sure you look presentable before you come back up to the house," he ordered. "You look a mess."_

_And, with a deafening slam of a door, Aro Bartollini walked away from the mother of his unborn son, and never looked back._

=PoF=

It had been eight days since Alice Brandon had left her small care package at Isabella's apartment.

Eight days since she had apologised and left Isabella equal parts furious and terrified, and, for eight days, Isabella had mulled over and stared at the stupid brown folders that she hadn't moved from where they had been left, on her coffee table.

Even though she was trying her hardest to watch _Grey's Anatomy_, Isabella could not seem to stop her eyes from flitting over to the fucking things every thirty seconds. They silently taunted her, begging her to open them. They held unknown secrets, opportunities that could, potentially, eradicate or blow up all the bullshit that swung heavily above her and Cullen every time that they were together.

Isabella huffed and clasped her cup of hot chocolate closer to her body.

Mid November in New York city was fucking frigid, and the liquid heaven and several marshmallows that floated within it were all that stood between Isabella and a healthy dose of hypothermia.

"You can look at them, you know. It won't kill you."

Isabella kept her eyes on _McDreamy _and _Meredith_ as she answered, "I know."

She heard Leah snort derisively from her seat at the opposite end of the couch, but ignored her. Between Leah and Cullen, Isabella was about ready to throw herself under a damned bus. The pair of them had been driving her slowly insane with their gentle coaxing and opinions.

The frustrating thing was; Isabella knew that they were right.

Both of them thought it a good idea for her to; at least, look at the jobs that Alice had left, which, of course, Isabella _did_ agree with. She and Cullen both had too much at stake for her to think otherwise. Isabella would lose more than her job if her relationship with her student was exposed, and that was before she could even factor in the ramifications that Cullen would have to face.

She knew that looking at the jobs was the sensible thing to do, the right thing to do, the important thing to do.

The rational part of Isabella's brain knew all of the facts, but, exasperatingly, she was still finding the thought of opening the folders...hard.

Regardless of the potential trap that Alice had set, and, as much as Isabella knew the risks of loving Cullen, the truth was, she loved her job at Arthur Kill too.

She loved her students, the challenges, and the adrenaline rush of dealing with particular individuals who couldn't keep their tempers. She loved it all, and, to say goodbye to it was going to be more than a little difficult. She sighed.

It was ridiculous given what was at risk, and Isabella had done nothing but beat herself up about it for eight days straight. Cullen had been adorably understanding of her inability to take that step, but she knew that their time was limited. God knew what Alice had told Jasper and/or Peter since she slinked her way down the hallway.

Isabella had to get a grip, stop being a selfish cow, and do the right thing.

"Okay," she snapped at no one in particular. She slammed her cup onto the table, spilling chocolate across her dog-eared copy of _Entertainment Weekly_, and held her right hand out. "Pass me the top folder."

Leah stared at her for a split second before she smiled widely, put her own hot chocolate down gently, and kneeled by Isabella's feet with the first folder in hand.

"Just a look," Leah said softly. "No pressure."

Isabella rolled her eyes but smiled. "No pressure my ass," she retorted as she took it from her friend.

She sat back, crossed her legs underneath herself, and rested the folder on her knees. Leah lifted from the floor and placed herself at Isabella's side. Isabella felt her chest warm for her friend. She had been so supportive since the entire fucked up business began.

"Okay," Isabella breathed as she opened it up in a way that onlookers would think she was handling a live bomb.

The first thing that caught her eye was the bright pink Post-It that was stuck neatly to the inside page.

_Isabella,_

_Thank you for trusting me by looking at these jobs specs. I think that all of them will appeal to you in some way. I know that we have a long way to go, and that I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I hope that this is the start of us becoming friends once again._

_With love,_

_Alice xx_

Isabella swallowed thickly and blinked as a twinge of hurt pierced her chest. Her mouth remained tight and she avoided Leah's gaze by flicking the first page open quickly. She hated to admit it, but deep down, she, like Alice, hoped for the same thing.

=PoF=

"And your anger management sessions seem to be going well," Charlotte commented as Cullen blew a large cloud of smoke towards his living room ceiling. "Dr Astley said that you're attitude has much improved."

Cullen could help but give himself an internal fist bump. _Well played, motherfucker._

"That's great, Edward," Garrett commented from his seat opposite.

Cullen glanced at him and lifted the right side of his mouth in appreciation at his compliment.

"Your blood work came back clean of all narcotics," Charlotte continued. "Your meetings with Alec are going well, as are the ones with Miss Swan..." She tapped the tip of her pen against the folder on her lap and looked up at Cullen. She smiled. "I'm certainly impressed."

"Fuckin' A," Cullen replied with a nod of his chin. "I'm a changed man, Charlotte." He shrugged with a charming glint in his eye. "What can I say?"

Charlotte smirked. "It would certainly appear that way." She clipped her pen and closed her papers before pushing them back into her briefcase. "As your parole officer, all I can say is, whatever you are doing to maintain this impressive feedback, keep doing it."

Cullen held back his snort and willed his libido to back the fuck up. Vivid, inappropriate, and wildly dirty images of Bella riding his cock while moaning for more slammed into his brain, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Damn straight he was gonna '_keep doing it'_, or _'her'_ to be more specific. He smiled to himself.

"I will do my...utmost," he said as he scratched his chin with the tip of his thumb.

"Good," Charlotte replied, oblivious to her parolee's amusement. She stood from her seat, clasping her briefcase to her side. "I will see you in two weeks."

"Can't wait," Cullen responded dryly as he stood slowly. He glanced over at Garrett as he slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Can I have a word, G?"

Charlotte didn't move. Cullen looked at her pointedly, "In private."

She smiled and dipped her head, "Of course." She waved at Garrett, muttering something about letting the parole board know the latest, and let herself out of the apartment, leaving the two men alone with a fuck load of awkward.

"You okay for a drink there?" Cullen asked as he gestured to the cup by Garrett's right foot.

"Yeah, I'm good." He looked up at Cullen and narrowed his eyes slightly. "Are you alright?"

Cullen exhaled and pinched his shoulders together before dropping back onto the couch. "Yeah, I'm...I'm really good."

"That's great," Garrett repeated. Cullen used to find G's lack of adjectives annoying. Now, he just found it endearing. He couldn't deny it; he trusted the son-of-a-bitch, and he'd need his support all the way if Bella was no longer going to be his tutor.

Cullen gave a tight-lipped smile. The silence was annoying as fuck. "I need to talk to you...about something." Cullen cleared his throat and reached for another smoke.

Garrett opened and closed his clasped hands. "Talk away."

"It's about Bel-Miss Swan."

Garrett blinked in understanding. His face gave nothing away, but Cullen felt completely safe. He lit his cigarette with his flick lighter before throwing it back down onto the table between them. It took three long drags of the fucking thing for Cullen to find the courage to begin speaking.

"Miss Swan and I," he started quietly. "You know that…we get on…well." He tried to ignore the wry smile that threatened to spread across Garrett's face, "Really well."

"Mmhm," Garrett responded. He slowly sat back in his seat, looking far too fucking comfortable, and crossed his legs at the ankles. He waved his hand gently when Cullen paused. "Continue."

Cullen cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, but did as Garrett had asked. "She's a great tutor…she's taught me a lot." He smiled. "She's great. She has the patience of a fucking saint, and she's been really understanding with my…moods."

Understatement. A lesser woman would have dumped his stubborn, grumpy ass, and moved on.

Garrett nodded; the wicked gleam in his eye still visible. Cullen bristled slightly, feeling unnerved, but continued with the story that both he and Bella had agreed upon.

"I like having her as a tutor," he stated honestly. "But…I know that she's been looking for new employment. She's thinking of leaving Arthur Kill," he sighed. "She's too fucking good for that shit hole, and I was wondering, I mean, I wanted to ask you what the rules were for changing tutors half way through my parole. I know that you're familiar with that shit…and, well…yeah, that's it…yeah."

His words hung in the air for an age, as Garrett stared back at him. The fucker neither smiled nor spoke until Cullen was about ready to rip the room apart.

Cullen scowled. "I'm sorry," he snapped. "But did I just speak in fucking Japanese, or are you being an ignorant bastard for the fucking fun of it?"

The laugh that left Garrett was loud and hearty and took Cullen's ass the fuck by surprise. He stared at the loony sitting in his living room, as he wiped tears of mirth from under his eyes and down his cheeks, while trying to regain his normal, strictly professional composure.

Cullen was utterly lost.

"You wanna share what's so fucking funny?" he grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Or is this shit private?"

Garrett sighed and wheezed until he was nearly calm again. "I'm sorry, Edward," he said with another smile. "I just couldn't help it."

"Yeah," Cullen deadpanned. "I can't blame ya. What I said was fucking hysterical."

"Not what you said," Garrett rectified immediately, "But the way that you said it."

"Now you're just talking in fucking riddles," Cullen fumed as he shot up from his seat and stormed into the kitchen to grab a much-needed beer. "Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out, Chuckles."

"Oh, Edward, come on," Garrett chided with a smirk, as he stood and followed him. "You can't blame me, can you?"

Cullen span around and glowered. "I have no idea what you found so humorous, G, so yes, I can blame you!"

Garrett put his palms up in placation, his face suddenly serious. "Let me ask you a question."

"No," Cullen retorted with a petulant shake of his head.

"Did you come up with that cock and bull story or did Isabella?"

"Bella," Cullen corrected without thinking. "M-Miss Swan," he muttered soon after, even though he could feel Garrett's knowing gaze burn into the side of his head. "I mean, there's no story…no-"

"How long?" Garrett asked quietly.

The depth of his question was clear in the soft, trustworthy undertones of his voice. Cullen paused, allowing his mind to wander over the connotations and potential answers to Garrett's question.

_How long have I wanted her? My whole life. How long did it take me to realise that? The moment I first pushed my body into hers._

Cullen swallowed, took several breaths, and toed the floor with his bare foot. He didn't look up. He couldn't. He was petrified that Garrett would see the extents of his feelings for his tutor. He had managed to dissuade Rosalie from saying too much when they had spoken. He'd be fucked if he could do the same to Garrett.

Bastard was too smart for his own good with questions ready for firing like bullets from a gun. Fact of the matter was Cullen was still not ready to face the waves of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him every time he thought about his feelings for his Peaches.

He was still treading that shit. If he wasn't careful, his ass would be drowning.

"Weeks," he answered finally through lips that barely moved. "A month…maybe…"

Garrett's silence brought Cullen's head up and what he saw surprised the shit out of him. Garrett's eyes were soft, accepting, with laughter lines all around them.

He looked almost…happy.

He went to open his mouth, but Cullen stopped him with his index finger held up firmly between them.

"Don't say anything….just…you need to not say what it is you are _about_ to say, for both our sakes, G."

Garrett closed his mouth slowly and nodded. Wordlessly, Cullen grabbed another beer from the fridge and placed it in front of his friendly neighbourhood parole officer.

As he picked it up, Garrett said, "I was just going to say that it was a good thing."

Cullen's eyes narrowed quickly. "A good thing?" he asked suspiciously.

Garrett smiled around the lip of his beer. "She's good for _you_, Edward. I can see the change in you." He gestured towards him with both hands. "You look better. You act better, calmer. She brings out the best in you."

He snorted softly before adding, "It was just a matter of time anyway. In fact, I'm amazed that you two fought it for so long."

"It," Cullen repeated dumbly.

"Yeah," Garrett clarified. "_It_. The thing. The spark. The…connection. You know what I'm talking about." He chuckled lightly. "The pair of you almost set that small room at Kill on fire with the electricity you both gave off."

Cullen smirked, but it dropped as Garrett's face became pensive and stern. "You do treat her right, don't you, Edward."

It wasn't a question.

"Of course," Cullen replied with no sarcasm or annoyance. He respected Garrett for asking. He was probably the only fucker who had the balls to do it. "She deserves nothing less."

"Exactly," Garrett agreed with a dip of his chin. "She worked her ass off with you, took risks…is still taking risks." He left the implications of his words soak into Cullen's brain for a second before adding, "You make sure that you're worth it for her."

Cullen licked his lips. Truth was, he'd fought with himself over and over about being worthy of her. Bella loved him; he knew that. He heard it in her words, and he felt it in her touch. Nevertheless, Cullen always silently doubted whether he deserved any of it. He knew that, if he were to voice his opinions, Bella would shoot him down and would, no doubt, kick his ass.

So he remained quiet, brooding.

Jesus, he had the franchise on that shit.

"So," Garrett uttered as he placed his beer bottle down onto the kitchen counter. "You want to know the protocol for Isabella not being your tutor anymore so that you can be…together."

Cullen nodded.

"Okay." Garrett ran his hands through his hair, an expression of serious concentration passed over his face. He placed his index fingers against his lips and took a deep breath. "I think that Isabella finding new employment is a good avenue to go down. She will, of course, have to inform Charlotte, who will, in turn inform the parole board."

"Those fuckers won't get suspicious will they?" Cullen asked warily. That was all that they would need. Fuck, then the shit would really hit the fan. Cullen swallowed. "I mean, she won't get into trouble for leaving me half way through our agreed Literature sessions?"

They _had_ signed a justice and parole contract after all.

Garrett rubbed his chin, keeping his eyes on the breakfast counter. "There may be a little heat headed her way, but the fact of the matter is, they can't stop her from seeking employment elsewhere. They will just be pissed that they have to find someone else."

He placed one hand on his hip while using the other to talk with. Cullen was fairly convinced that, without his hands, Garrett Volture would be rendered mute.

"If it's clear that you are in no way linked to Isabella's choice to move on," he mused with three strides across the kitchen. "Then there shouldn't be a problem, Edward. And, after today's feedback from Charlotte, I can't see how that could possibly be a problem."

Cullen smiled wryly. "You make it sound so easy."

Garrett's voice was sure and firm. "If we play it right, it will be."

Cullen exhaled a soft breath, "We?"

Garrett smiled. "I'm assuming that you want my help, Edward."

Cullen smiled and dipped his chin, "Yeah."

"Then you have it."

Cullen looked down at his feet, allowing the warm feeling of relief and gratitude wash over him. Although the words that he spoke were quiet, Cullen meant them, "Thanks, man."

"You're welcome, Edward." Garrett cleared his throat. "Now shut up and get me another beer."

For the next hour, Garrett and Cullen sat and discussed the plans for making sure that Isabella's move from Arthur Kill, once the wheels were set in motion, would go as smoothly as possible. Cullen wasn't naive to think that fuckers, namely Newton, wouldn't have plenty to say about her leaving, but he had faith in Garrett's belief that all would go according to plan.

He had to.

The fact of the matter was, he had to be with his Peaches, but above all, he had to protect her, and being cooperative while listening to Garrett was how he was going to do it. Obviously, that shit was difficult, but five smokes and three beers helped his ass the fuck out.

Thirty minutes into their planning, and the easy atmosphere was shattered when Garrett asked the question that Cullen knew, for a long time, was fairly fucking inevitable. Cullen managed to suck back the impulse to get defensive as all hell and kick Garrett's nosey, prying ass out of his apartment, but after what the dude was putting on the line to help Bella and himself, that shit just would not fly.

Neither of them had mentioned the whole 'black-out' scenario since…well, since the day that Cullen had reawakened in a clinic bed in Arthur Kill, shaking, almost incoherent, and not knowing his ass from his goddamn elbow. Cullen, being the sneaky bastard that he was, had managed to evade the question ever since.

Not anymore. He was cornered. Now was the time to man up.

Cullen had to give Garrett props. The son of a bitch didn't beat around the bush with his questions. Fucker just dove straight in. Cullen appreciated that though, like a band-aid, it smarted slightly less.

"So why is she Peaches to you?" he asked, with his eyes fixed on Cullen's face. He took a slight breath before continuing. "Why did you pass out when you found out who she was?"

Cullen, however, kept his eyes on his hands that were between his knees, and gave a wry smile. "How long have you been sitting on that shit?"

"Too long," was Garrett's smiling reply. "But, now I think you owe me. I'm cashing in my favours."

Cullen cocked an eyebrow at him and nodded slowly. He was right. Cullen _did_ owe him.

He took a deep breath, sat back in his seat and, like with Rosalie, relayed the whole story about the night Peaches had come barrelling into his life. He described the cold night, the terrifying sounds of a dying father pleading with his daughter to run, and the feel of her small body fighting against his own as he held her.

Cullen felt his face heat up when he explained the whole peaches thing, pausing a lot while pulling on his hair as though it were a lifeline. Shit, talking to another guy about a girl's hair was not conducive to a comfortable Cullen, but Garrett did nothing but stay quiet and expressionless.

He never moved, never made a sound, and Cullen couldn't have been more pleased.

All Garrett did do, when Cullen had finished his story, was place his large hand on Cullen's shoulder, squeeze it gently, and smile. A silent moment passed between the two men that made Cullen's shoulders feel less weighted, and, looking at the light that passed over Garrett's face, he knew that the sensation hadn't been limited to him alone.

"I'll call Isabella tomorrow," Garrett said, as he pulled on his large wool coat, and made his way to the apartment door. "I'm sure you'll speak to her before me, but I'll be able to fill in the blanks for her."

Cullen held his hand out and waited for Garrett's mouth to close after it popped open in surprise. Shaking hands was a new thing between them, but fuck it, Cullen wanted to show his appreciation, and he wasn't much of a hugger. Tentatively Garrett took it and shook it firmly.

"Thanks again, G," Cullen said fervently. "You're a life saver." He laughed dryly. "This shit could have been done a while ago. I don't know why we didn't think of it sooner." He shrugged.

He knew why; it was because he was a selfish asshole who wanted Bella all to himself in every capacity, but best to keep that shit to himself.

"No problem," Garrett replied. "You and Isabella had to find your own way with this. It's a big decision for her to make. And sometimes the simplest answer is not always the most obvious."

He grinned at Cullen's eye roll as he opened the door.

"Well, shave my ass and call me Priscilla! It's a motherfucking Kill reunion up in here!"

Emmett's booming bass voice smacked both Cullen and Garrett around the head like a fucking baseball bat before his mammoth body launched at the two of them and pulled them into a death squeeze.

"Oh, I'm so happy," Emmett chimed sarcastically as Cullen grumbled and pushed his oaf ass away.

"Dammit, dude," he said as he stretched his back out of the concertina that Emmett had made of it. "Calm the fuck down."

Emmett smirked. "I see freedom hasn't chilled your uptight ass out any." He turned to Garrett before Cullen could respond. "How's it hanging, G?"

Garrett chuckled as he straightened his jacket and wrapped a black scarf around his thick neck. "I'm hanging fine, Emmett, good to see you. I'll see you on Thursday for our meeting." He slipped past him and waved. "We'll talk soon, Edward."

Cullen saluted him with two fingers at his temple as Emmett sauntered into his home and looked around the place like a fucking prospective buyer or some shit. Cullen closed the door and sighed.

"What can I do for you, McCarty?"

Emmett patted his enormous chest with his palms and smiled. "You got any more of those beers, I'm about fucking parched?"

With two beers in hand, Emmett dropped himself onto the couch while Cullen fiddled with his cell phone, looking more than a little disgruntled.

"Am I keeping you from something?" Emmett asked nonchalantly as he sipped his beer.

Cullen shook his head and lit a cigarette. "So how's your first week out been? I have to admit, I'm more than a little surprise not to have seen your ass sooner."

Emmett smiled. "You know me, Cullen, places to see, people to do."

Cullen laughed and raised his eyebrows in agreement.

"Not that you're not important to me or anything," he added with a wry wink. "But I had to get some shit organised."

Cullen paused. "You're not back in the game already, are you?"

Emmett frowned. "No. I just had a few 'ladies' to…put to bed. You can't find the staff these days."

Cullen shook his head in wonder and took a pull of his beer. It shouldn't have shocked him to know that McCarty was already making backhanded car deals. The fucker was addicted to that shit. His need for his 'ladies' with their rims and torque was a thing of beauty – when it wasn't getting his ass thrown in jail.

"Garrett here for the usual?"

"Yeah," Cullen replied. "Charlotte was here earlier. She'd have loved to have seen you." The two men snorted.

McCarty and Charlotte had not always had the best relationship. To say that she didn't understand his foul-mouthed humour was an understatement.

"She wants me," Emmett answered coolly as he sat back and kicked his feet up. "What can I say?"

"Of course she does," Cullen laughed, as his phone beeped with an incoming text.

Emmett frowned when he say the glimpses of a smile play across Cullen's lips as he read whatever shit was on the screen. Fucker hardly ever smiled. He smelled something bogus.

"That your new…plaything?"

Cullen's eyes met Emmett's with a look of fury so hot that Emmett was sure a sweat broke out by his own hairline.

"No. It's not my new '_plaything_'," he barked before looking back at the cell screen, cradling the fucking thing like that small, green, weird, bog-eyed, dude from that god-awful Ring movie.

"Okay, okay," Emmett retorted bitingly as he lit his own smoke. "Chill your self, asshole. It was only a question."

Cullen exhaled and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "I know…just…it's not like that…she's-" He caught himself when Emmett's eyes lit up. _Fuck._

"So it _is_ a she," he mused with a small chin rub, "Interesting."

Emmett wasn't a stupid fucker. He knew that there was only one woman on the face of the planet that could get Cullen behaving like a fucking rabid dog, other than his fuck hot sister.

_Swan._

"Things going well with Miss Swan, I assume," he commented smoothly.

Cullen extinguished his smoke and blew rings towards the ceiling. "Just swell," was his curt reply.

Emmett noticed the tension in his jaw and fists that were curled and resting on the arms of his chair. He smiled.

_Bingo._

He hummed as though daydreaming. "Dammit," he said in a low voice that he saved for seduction and all things nasty. "I do miss her tight ass in those pencil skirts that she wore." He licked his lips for effect. "Fuck, and those legs, I could have sucked on those bad boys for-"

Cullen's reaction was immediate and ferocious.

"Shut the fuck up, McCarty!" Cullen bellowed as he shot up from his seat, glowering, and breathing like he'd just run the New York marathon.

He snapped his arm up and pointed at Emmett menacingly. "Watch your fucking mouth about her."

For one split second, Emmett was glad that there was a table between them. Motherfucker looked decidedly serious and more than a little scary. Nevertheless, he lasted all of three seconds with Cullen's finger in his grill before his face creased into a smile the size of the Hoover Dam.

"Well, I'll be goddamned," he snickered with his hands up, "You and Miss S, huh? _Nice_."

Cullen's arm dropped instantly and a groan of realisation and frustration left him. He rubbed his palms down his face and mumbled into them. He was so fucking easy. Emmett had played his ass and he'd fallen right into it. He was losing his edge and it was an uncomfortable feeling.

_What. The. Fuck?_

"Okay," he cried towards the heavens. "_Fuck_, yes, Miss Swan and me. There, ya happy?" He snatched his beer from the table and fell back into his chair.

"Let everyone know!" he continued, whirling his hand around himself, gesturing to the empty room. "What is up with this shit?" He fumed, "Nosey fucker's day or something."

Emmett chuckled and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Look, man, I'm not interested in the how's, why's or what the fuck ever. I'm just glad that I won the bet I had with myself."

Cullen narrowed his eyes, "Bet?"

"Yeah, I bet myself how long it would take for you two to bone." He smacked his huge chest with both of his fists. "Guess I won, huh?"

Cullen blinked in shock. _Jesus._ Was everyone aware of his and Bella's relationship even before they were?

"For Christ's sake, McCarty," he moaned. "It's not about fucking boning."

"Oh, yeah, I know, but you get my drift." Emmett smiled indifferently and put his smoke in the ashtray. "Hey, talking of fuck hot women, I heard your sister's back in town. That true?"

Cullen wasn't sure whether the knowledge that McCarty had the attention span of a gnat was enough to ignore his anger at the ape's desires for Rosalie. Dammit, he felt too exhausted to even think about it.

He rubbed his temples, wishing like hell that Bella was there so he could hold her, bury his face in her neck…or boobs, whatever…and just forget everything and everyone.

"I've told you before, McCarty, Rose isn't interested."

Emmett laughed. "So she says, but I know otherwise. I know women."

"I'm warning you," Cullen murmured. "Stay away."

"Why," Emmett smirked. "You gonna beat me up?"

Cullen grinned knowingly. "No, but _she_ might."

It wasn't that Cullen didn't trust McCarty. Christ, the two of them had been friends for years - he'd been there the night Cullen had smashed Royce King's face to smithereens - and he had always treated women right. It was just that Rosalie was still so broken.

Cullen wasn't sure that she could cope with any man hounding her, let alone Emmett and his universally large personality. In the past, when the two of them had met, the banter had always been playful and uncomfortably full of innuendo, but Rosalie had always backed off before things got too hot. Cullen had to give it to McCarty, however, the fucker always stopped when he saw that she had become uneasy. For all his showboating, the bastard respected her, and that meant a lot.

Thinking about it, McCarty had been pursuing Rosalie for years, and still wasn't bored.

Surely, that meant something?

"Whatever," Cullen grumbled when his brain began to hurt from all the thinking.

His eyes flicked up when he heard Emmett's beer bottle hit the table. "A few of us are going to hit a couple of bars tonight. You in?"

Cullen smiled and shook his head. "Nah, man, I've got stuff to do."

Emmett wiggled his eyebrows. "Or someone…"

Cullen couldn't help but laugh at that one. "Get the fuck out of here, McCarty."

"Roger that."

The two friends fist-bumped, organised another night out, and parted ways. The door to Cullen's apartment wasn't even shut before he had his cell phone plastered to his ear.

"Fuck, I need you," he breathed when he heard his Peaches' voice. "I'll be there in twenty, baby."

=PoF=

A small hand shot out across the car's centre console, and covered Cullen's leg that had begun to jump up and down like a fucking Jackrabbit. Jesus, he was just about ready to rip the skin from his bones. He settled, instead, for the side of his thumbnail, which he shoved inelegantly between his teeth, and started gnawing on it like a motherfucker.

"Sweetheart, relax," Bella said with a small smile as she glanced at him and then back to the road. "Everything is going to be fine."

Cullen scoffed.

Fine? _Fine?_ Was she insane?

They were on their way to her _grandmother's_ house.

To spend the _weekend._

For _Thanksgiving!_

Shit was definitely not _fine_. Not fine. At. All.

Cullen ran his hands through his hair for the thousandth time and sighed when Bella squeezed his knee. Her confidence in both him and the situation was endearing as hell, but seriously, his brain had been on A.D.D fast forward since they had left the apartment, considering all the things that could go wrong.

Oh God, the fumbling, nervous verbal vomit that would no doubt happen when he met Bella's favourite family member was enough to turn his stomach inside out. Not to mention the fact that he had counted on both hands the personality traits that he possessed that would show, in full fuck up glory, just how far from good enough he actually was for her.

And his nerves? Goddamn it, those bad boys were just about shot to shi-

"I love you," Bella whispered.

Cullen's eyes closed briefly before they slid over to the breathtaking creature next to him. His hand dropped loudly from his mouth to his lap.

"And Nana Boo will too." She smiled gently, her eyes sparkling. "I just know it."

How the hell did she do that? She knew exactly what to say to help calm him down, and, although the need to leap out of the car and run home like a pussy was still heavy in his stomach, knowing that she loved him made it all the more bearable.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek softly.

"Thanks," he muttered against her skin. Even though the sentiment seemed grossly inappropriate for how she made him feel, it was all he had. He rubbed the tip of his nose against the apple of her cheek, and smiled when he felt her shiver.

"You're welcome," she replied with a small wink.

Goddamn, she was beautiful.

Cullen sat back, keeping her hand tightly in his on his thigh; fingers entwined, anchoring himself to her, and, with a deep breath, he looked out of the car window, watching the world as it went whizzing by. They had a long drive ahead of them. Well, Bella did. He was just along for the ride: nine hours, a stop overnight in a motel, and then another five to Chicago.

He glanced at the clock.

Only another eight and a half hours to go.

_Terrific._ Just enough time to get riled up again.

He began fiddling with the radio, playing station commando for a good five minutes.

"Don't forget that you have to call Charlotte when we cross the state line," Bella said as her thumb skimmed the back of his hand.

"Yeah, I know," he replied, as he settled back in the leather seat of the Jag XJ and let the sounds of Greenday's '_Time of your Life'_ relax into his bones. Hell, at least the vehicle was comfortable…and sexy. And dammit if Bella didn't look like a freaking porn star driving the blasted thing.

Cullen hummed along and played the invisible chords of the song against the blue vein in Bella's wrist, watching as the city, with its towering buildings, started to become smaller and less foreboding. He loved living in New York, always had, but the idea of having a few days away, even after their time at beach house, was an attractive prospect. Especially when he considered the company. He brought Bella's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckle.

"You feeling a little better?" she asked with a knowing tilt of her chin.

"Yeah, I'm just peachy," he answered dryly.

She laughed lightly. "What is it that you're worried about exactly?"

_Jesus, where to fucking start?_

"I dunno," he replied noncommittally, adding a petulant shrug for good measure. Trouble was there was no escaping Bella and her questions. His ass remained trapped in a cream leather bucket seat that was travelling across the country at seventy miles an hour. _Awesome._

"Don't deflect," Bella said with a wry smile. "Tell me."

Cullen clasped the bridge of his nose and exhaled. "I'm worried about a lot of things, Bella. I can't think of just one."

"Okay," she soothed. "But you should know that there really is no need to-"

"For chrissake, I'm a criminal, Peaches, of course there's reason to worry."

He didn't mean to snap, but he felt beyond edgy and utterly out of his comfort zone. His spine was wired; his knuckles were white from his clenching them so tightly, and his stomach was in knots, twisting frequently between fear, panic, and anxiety.

Yeah, he was a fucking mess.

He sighed when Bella remained silent. "Look, shit, I'm sorry, baby-"

"No, it's alright," Bella interrupted with no annoyance in her voice. "This is a big deal for you. I'm sorry that I've not addressed that properly, I really am."

He felt her hand tighten around his. "Just say the word and I'll turn the car around. If this is too much for you, I don't want you to feel this uncomfortable."

Cullen felt his heart skip several beats as he stared at her profile. What the hell had he done to deserve her? He turned slightly in his seat so that he could see her better.

"I don't want you to turn the car around, Bella," he breathed. "Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, and not that I'm not sitting here shitting in my pants, but I want to be with you this weekend."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I do. I just…" Cullen ran his free hand through his hair and groaned in frustration. "I just want it to go well. Fuck, I want your grandmother to see that I'm not just…a…" He swirled his hand towards his chest, as he thought of a list of not too nice adjectives that he could use to describe himself. "…You know, and that I care about you."

Bella looked over at him as she slowed at a junction. "She will." She pulled on the hand brake and shifted closer to him. "My grandmother is the very best person that I know. She doesn't judge or discriminate."

She laid her palm against Cullen's neck, running her thumb along his jaw. "We can just be us. You and me."

Cullen leaned into her touch, "Promise?"

"I promise."

=PoF=

"Jake? Yo, Jake!"

"What?"

"There's some dude here to see you."

Jacob halted the socket wrench in his hand and looked down his body, craning his neck from the board, to see two sets of feet visible at the far end of the GTO. He recognised Seth's large boots but he didn't know who the hell the black Converse belonged to.

Christ, he didn't have time for this shit. "I'm busy."

The Converse shifted, moving down the side of the vehicle. In his periphery, Jacob saw the heels lift from the floor, as though the guy was crouching down, and groaned when a federal badge, held by long fingers, appeared by the front wheel arch of the car.

"I'm sure you can spare ten minutes," came a low, gruff voice.

"Fuck's sake," Jacob grumbled, immediately allowing his brain to go through the roster of the where's, weights, and value of the gear that he had stashed in the entire place. Not that he was too worried. Fucker would need a warrant first.

Using the balls of his feet, Jacob pulled his large body from underneath the 'lady' and dropped the wrench in a way that made it very clear to Mr. Fed that he was not impressed with being disturbed. He wiped his hands on a greased rag that he pulled from the chest pocket of his overalls, and looked up at the man with the badge.

He was tall, with dark hair, and wide, dark eyes that looked too old for his young face. He was dressed casually for a Fed, in plaid shirt, denim jacket, and black jeans, but had the cocky air about him that Jacob hated about all law enforcement dicks. Jacob remained sitting, staring at the guy, waiting for him to speak.

Mr. Fed looked around himself and nodded gently. "Nice place ya got here, Mr Black." He smiled and Jacob narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked at his set of pearly whites. Dude sure looked familiar. "There a place we can talk?"

Jacob paused for a moment, eyeing the guy suspiciously. Something was amiss. He could feel it in his stomach; he was either in for some bad news or some _really_ bad news. He'd never dealt with the Feds before, not personally at least, and for one to simply walk off the street into his place of business had his internal alert system going haywire. All Jacob could think was that it was a damn good job his poker face was so shit-hot.

"Sure," he replied a he stood up, coming eye level with Mr. Fed. "Come into my office."

Jacob eyed Seth and walked across the shop. He pushed the door open and moved around to his seat at his desk. He gestured for the agent to sit down, and watched him cautiously as he did.

"So, you know my name, but I don't know yours," Jacob said as he steepled his hands under his chin.

"Agent Biers," he replied quickly.

Jacob nodded. "You look too young to be a Fed."

"Ass kissing is a hobby of mine. Gets a guy places."

Jacob smirked. "So I've heard."

Agent Biers smiled tightly. "You must have done some ass kissing in your time, Jacob."

The use of his Christian name had Jacob's hackles rising, "Maybe. Depends who you ask."

"How about Aro Bartollini?" Agent Biers asked as he looked around the office nonchalantly. "You ever kiss his ass?"

Jacob swallowed. Ah, so _that's_ why the fucker was here. Quickly, burying his panic and vivid thoughts of Vanessa, Jacob dropped the corners of his mouth and shook his head. "I don't know an Aro Bartollini."

Agent Biers eyes met his and a small smile crept across his lips. "Oh, come on now. Don't be coy."

Jacob remained silent, although his heart raced in his chest and the sweat was collecting languidly between his shoulder blades.

Agent Biers sighed. "Okay, how about his daughter? Can you tell me anything about her?"

The urge to throw something at the wall and scream at the top of his lungs crashed over Jacob's body like a tsunami. God, just the thought of her had his insides twisting and screaming in agony.

_What if she was hurt? What if she needed him?_

He clenched his fists and laid them on the desk. He cleared his throat, cursing himself silently, and shook his head again.

"What s this about?" Jacob asked when he finally found his voice. "Why are you asking me about these people?"

Agent Biers unwrapped a stick of chewing gum, and pushed it into his mouth. He shrugged, mimicking Jacob.

"I mean," Jacob stammered. "Are they, like…hurt, or something?"

Agent Biers eyebrows dropped over his eyes, gathering above the bridge of his nose. "Why would you ask that? Why would that bother you?"

_Focus, Jake._

"It doesn't bother me," he replied firmly. "But when a Fed walks into my shop and starts asking questions, I expect to be given an explanation as to why. I was brought up with manners, you know?"

Agent Biers smirked. "Sure, you were. You're just all kinds of squeaky clean, ain't ya?"

Jacob stared the agent down, leaning his elbows on the thick, wooden desk between them, torn between throwing the fucking thing out of the way and pummelling the shit out of the smarmy fucker, and falling to his knees while begging him to divulge everything that he knew about his Vanessa.

'_His'_ Vanessa? What a fucking joke. There was no part of her that belonged to him anymore.

His heart clenched. Hard.

_Motherfucker._

His urge to hate was strong; it flowed through him like a heated river, but never once did it overtake the burning love that still resided deep in his bones.

The dichotomy was exhausting in its intensity, and the roar of his heartbeat and his breathing was overwhelming.

When he spoke, Jacob was stunned at the tremor in his own voice. "Let's cut the shit," he said before he cleared his throat. "Why are you here, and what do you want?"

As he looked up, Agent Biers' face slowly lost its conceited edge. The smirk on his lips and hard lines around his eyes gradually changed into something that looked suspiciously like sympathy. Jacob kept his own face as straight as he could. The agent clearly knew more than he was letting on, that much was clear, but Jacob didn't want anything other than answers from the badge, least of all his compassion.

"I just want to help," Agent Biers replied with a quick glance at his hands that rested on his lap.

"Why?"

A flash of pain and anger swept over the agent's features. His shoulders tightened and his jaw locked. His stare was intimidating as fuck, and Jacob found himself sitting back in his seat as it burned into him.

"Because Aro Bartollini has gotten away with shit for far too fucking long," he growled.

_Well, damn._

Jacob exhaled down his nose and looked out of the office window, watching his boys work. He suddenly felt helpless. He knew better than anyone else did the power that Bartollini had. Even the Feds couldn't scare the fucker. He wasn't scared of anything or anyone.

"He's untouchable," he murmured before rubbing a palm down his face.

"No-one is untouchable," the agent replied darkly, "Least of all _him_."

Jacob looked back at the badge, taken aback by the venom in his voice, and frowned, "No matter." He shook his head despondently. "I can't get involved in this...I just...can't."

It would hurt too fucking much to get close to_ her_ again, as much as he wanted to.

Agent Biers' eyes narrowed hatefully, "Too busy dealing to give a shit?"

The left side of Jacob's mouth lifted in a sardonic smirk. _Game on._ "That's a dangerous accusation to make."

"I work with facts not accusations, Black." He looked around the office, his eyes settling on the safe behind Jacob. "How about you open that bad boy up and prove me wrong?"

_Fuck._ "You got a warrant?"

Agent Biers let out a humourless laugh and readjusted his position in his seat so that he was leaning forward. "Oh, Jacob, I don't want to play this game with you."

"And what game is that?"

"I don't want to force you to help me," he shook his head leisurely. "But I will if I have to."

The agent pulled a small white card from his pocket and slid it across the desk. "I know that you have...shall we say, a vested interest in Mr. Bartollini..._and_ his daughter."

Jacob bit his tongue and raised his eyebrows to convey disinterest. He knew that he wasn't convincing, it was written all over the agent's knowing mug.

"I'll be in touch."

Agent Biers lifted from his seat; the sound of the metal scraping across the floor brought Jacob back from his chaotic haze and the internal battle that accosted him every time that he heard Vanessa's name.

Fuck, he didn't _want_ to care. He_ hated_ that he cared. It was pointless, demeaning. It killed him. But most of all, he hated that there was no stopping it. Like gravity, he had no way of defying it or its power. He just had to allow it to control him, and hope that it would wane over time.

However, after almost three years, just the thought of her still crippled him. The smell of her hair was still fresh in his mind, as was the sensation of having her hands on him, having her body beneath him.

Jesus, he wanted to see her. Just one touch, one moment, one look from her. Fuck, he felt like his heart was breaking all over again. _Breathe._

"Is she okay?" Jacob croaked as his index finger traced the edge of the agent's card, the writing of which suddenly became blurred, the letters merging as Jacob looked at them. "Is...Is she okay?"

Agent Biers paused at the office door. His shoulders dropped slightly as did his chin. When he spoke, he spoke towards his shoes.

"She's okay," he answered. "She's...she's okay, Jacob."

He opened the door without a goodbye or a glance back, leaving Jacob equal parts relieved and absolutely devastated.

**Holy pieces starting to fall together, Batman!**

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**Also, have a mosey on down to tehlemonadestand(dot)blogspot(dot)com to see an awesome interview between PAW and The Dick from FictionFreak95's amazing fic, 'Edward Cullen: Dick for Hire'. KitsuSel is a freakin' genius!**

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**TTFN xxx**


	38. Chapter 38

**Thank you so much to all who nominated and/or voted for PoF at the Faithful Shipper Awards. It won the Versatility Award and the Best All Human Award.**

**I am beyond grateful.**

**PoF has also been nominated at the AvantGarde Awards. They are still taking nominations so go and have a look and nominate your faves: avantegardeawards(dot)com**

**Love to the Princesses, the girls on FB and Twilighted thread, and to my beautiful Cherubs.**

**You're all wonderful. Thank you.**

**Here's part two as promised. **

**It was hard.**

**There were tears.**

**I'm scared to death about posting it because I want it to be perfect...*deep breath***

**...see you on the other side...**

**Chapter songs**_ (Listen during section two): Charlie Simpson ~ 'Down Down Down'. (Listen to the following during section seven): Barcelona ~ 'Please Don't Go.' The Script ~ 'I'm Yours'. Plumb ~ 'Cut'._

**Chapter 37 I'm Yours (Part Two)**

_I may not have the softest touch _

_I may not say the words as such _

_And though I may not look like much _

_I'm yours _

_And though my edges may be rough _

_And never feel I'm quite enough _

_It may not seem like very much _

_But I'm yours_

_**The Script 'I'm Yours'**_

"Ignition."

"Jubilant."

"Kamikaze."

"Liverish."

"Machismo."

"Narcotic."

"Obsolete."

"Pa-...fuck, um...Pi...No, Pardo-..."

"HA!" Bella cried with a wide smile. "You took longer than five seconds!"

She jumped a little in her seat behind the wheel of the Jag, and wiggled her ass in a way that was as sexy as it was annoying. _Fuck._ Cullen hated to lose.

He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, grumbling about stupid fucking eight-letter words and how fucking useless they were. It was a stupid fucking game anyway. Like he cared.

"Oh, don't sulk," Bella chuckled. "I'll let you win the next one."

Cullen gave her the side-eye. Next time? She'd already kicked his ass in everything from _I-Spy_ to _Name that Tune_ on the iPod. Dammit, the woman was more competitive than he was.

It was just a good thing that she'd given him a sensational blow-job before they had left the motel, otherwise his mood would have been seriously shitty. Good God, her mouth was incredible. He shifted in his seat and slowly placed his hand on her jean-clad thigh, needing some sort of contact as they neared her grandmother's.

They were only twenty minutes from the house and his stomach had begun to do goddamn back flips. His back was also feeling all kinds of sweaty, which was ridiculous considering it was colder than a witch's tit outside the car. It had even snowed a little.

"Hey," Bella smiled at him as she placed her hand over the top of his, "You feeling okay?"

Cullen shrugged and leaned his head back, watching her as she drove. "I'll be fine," he murmured as he pressed his cheek against the headrest. "I'm just gonna watch you until we get there."

She smiled with her eyes still on the road. "Like when you have a flu shot, huh?"

Cullen frowned. "What?"

Bella licked her lips, glancing in the rear view as she changed lanes. "When I was a little girl, my dad...he took me for my shots, you know, flu, measles, what have you, and he'd always say that, if I didn't look, it wouldn't hurt as bad. It wasn't as scary if you couldn't see it comin'."

She smiled again as her eyes took on a wistful glaze. "I'd bury my face in his neck and pray for it to be over."

"Did it work?" Cullen asked softly.

"Every time," she replied.

Cullen felt the sides of his mouth lift as he looked at his Peaches. She had spoken a lot about her father since they had left New York, and he found that he loved it. He loved hearing her talk about him, about her memories of him, and the small idiosyncratic things that made him so special to her. Her face glowed and her eyes became even wider and more expressive, as though the simple memory of her father made her beyond happy.

As strange as the feeling was, Cullen couldn't deny that he would have liked to have met Charlie Swan, not least because he wanted to thank him for helping bring such an exquisite woman into the world.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, unable to stop himself.

She blushed and smiled in modesty, "You too."

"Do you think...?" Cullen closed his mouth and paused.

"Do I think what, baby?" Bella encouraged.

Cullen sighed and wrapped his thumb around the side of Bella's little finger. "Do you think that he...your dad, would have...liked me?"

Bella pulled to a stop, as the lights changed to red, and turned to face him. "I think you and my father are more alike than even _I_ realise." She leaned forward and rubbed her nose against his cheek. "I think he would have thought you were awesome."

Cullen smiled at her word choice, "Yeah?" God, he wished that were true.

"Yeah," she answered with no hint of doubt in her voice. "I do. Kiss me?"

Cullen laughed lightly and moved his head so that their lips met gently. Keeping his eyes open, he watched as Bella's rolled back into her head, and a small moan escaped from the back of her throat. She was so fucking sexy when she did that. He let the tip of his tongue trace her bottom lip and sighed when she pulled back and continued to drive.

"I don't remember having my shots," he confessed after a few moments silence.

Bella glanced at him. "You don't?"

He shook his head as he tried to recollect, but came up wanting. "No."

Bella scrunched her shoulders up and tried to make her voice sound bright, but Cullen knew that she was feeling sorry for him. He could feel the sympathy as it prickled his skin like a nettle sting, making his molars grind and snap.

"Maybe that's a good thing," Bella offered. "Having shots is awful."

"Yeah," he replied quietly.

It seemed like such a ridiculous thing to want to remember, but Bella had made the memory sound so perfect that he wanted one for himself. He exhaled heavily and felt his chest constrict at the fuck awful memories that he _did_ have. Fuck it, he thought, when the anger began to rise, there was no changing his past, he had to look forward, and having Bella at his side was one giant fucking leap in the right direction.

"It doesn't matter," he said with his eyes firmly on the curve of Bella's neck. "I have better memories now anyway."

He squeezed her thigh suggestively, his fingers dancing over the denim seam that ran up the inside of her leg.

"Oh really," Bella asked, playing along. "And what might those be?"

"You," he answered immediately.

She smirked and bit her lip before regaining some composure, "Me, huh?"

"Oh yeah," he said as the back of his fingers trailed up her bare arm. "Like this morning when you put that fuck hot mouth of yours on my dick."

"You liked that?" she purred.

Cullen snorted. "I think I proved how much I liked it when I came like a freaking teenager."

Bella laughed beautifully, instantly dissolving the shitty atmosphere that had threatened to overwhelm Cullen.

"Don't laugh, baby," he jested. "Premature ejaculation is a serious matter."

"I don't think you need to worry about that, sweetheart," she retorted with a wicked _bend-me-over-and-do-naughty-things-to-me_ glint in her eye.

"Hmm," he mused as his fingers travelled to the outline of her breast. He held back the groan that threatened when he saw her nipple pressing teasingly through her top.

_Peek-a-fucking-boo._

"I think we may have to test that theory."

"We will," Bella smiled. "But it'll have to wait."

Cullen scowled at the same time that his cock gave a disgruntled twitch of disappointment. "Why?"

Bella looked at him with worry edging her brow, "Because we're here."

Cullen, suddenly remembering that they were in the car, snapped his head around to see a huge red brick house appearing at the end of a long, gravelled driveway, surrounded by gardens that, come spring, would look spectacular. The house was huge, and even had cream pillars at either side of the large, wooden double doors, making it even more fucking scary.

_Jesus Christ._

Cullen's heart gave a resounding kick behind his ribs in panic, as he became simultaneously dry mouthed, and desperate for a fucking cigarette. He felt the pack of smokes in his jeans' pocket and swallowed in relief. _Thank God._

Suddenly, a terrible thought crossed his mind: Shit, what if Bella's grandmother hated smokers? _Fuck._

"Cullen?"

Bella's voice sounded miles away and, as he turned his head to look at her, Cullen had the oddest sensation that he was floating underwater, and, as though he were underwater, he was suddenly unable to breathe.

"Baby," Bella said cautiously, as she unclipped her seatbelt. "Are you alright? You look a little pale."

Cullen opened his mouth, but no sounds came out. He rubbed the centre of his chest, willing his airways to open up. It didn't help.

_Fuck, I can't breathe._

A wave of cold sweat crashed over him, shooting down his back like icy claws. Fucking hell, what was he doing? Why had he agreed to this fuckery? He didn't _do_ this. He didn't _meet _families. He didn't ever care enough to put himself in situations like that. Holy shit. It was laughable really, thinking that Bella's grandmother would accept him.

They'd never accept him because he _wasn't_ good enough. He'd_ never_ be good enough.

Stupid, _stupid_ idiot.

"Shit," he muttered as he rubbed his face angrily.

"Hey," Bella said softly pulling his hands down to her lap. "Just breathe," she whispered. "I'm here."

He closed his eyes tightly. "Bella…I…I'm not..." He gasped for air. "I _can't_."

"You're fine, Cullen. I'm here and you're fine."

"_Peaches_."

"Hey." Bella put her hands on his neck and rubbed his jaw with the pads of her thumbs. "Listen to me. I love you."

"Jesus-"

"I. Love. You, Edward."

He looked up to see her staring at him with such ferocious passion that he could do nothing but slump in his seat.

"Tell me," she murmured as she kissed the fingertips of his right hand.

"Wh-what?"

"Tell me you know that I love you."

"Fuck, baby," he exhaled shakily. "I know…I _know_ you do. But I..."

Her forehead met his, holding it up, holding _him_ up. "No. No buts. I love you, and that's all you have to think about."

See, her tone whispered, easy.

With three exceedingly deep breaths, Cullen gulped back his pussy assed fear and dread, and sat up a little straighter. He had to get a grip. He couldn't allow his fear to be the first thing that Bella's grandmother would see. _No way._ He had to man-up and show her that he was up to the task of being at Bella's side. Goddamn it, she was everything to him, and he had to show that.

He closed his eyes and leaned forward, capturing Bella's lips in a searing kiss. "I'm sorry," he mumbled against her warm flesh. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she replied, cupping his face in her small hands. She ran her fingers through his sideburns and smiled gently. "It's understandable. It's normal." She smiled wider when he laughed dryly. "Are you alright now?"

"Yeah, I am, just…" he looked down and shrugged one shoulder. "Just don't leave me, okay?"

_Jesus, you're a fucking disgrace, Cullen._

"I won't," Bella said fervently. "Come on."

Before Cullen could stop her, she was getting out of the car and bouncing excitedly around the hood.

"Here goes fuckin' nothing," Cullen muttered to himself as he opened the door and got out.

He looked around slowly, taking in the grounds and the enormous property that sat in the middle of it. He shut the car door and pushed his hands into his pockets against the cold air and the sudden, colder memories of his own mother's house; the foreboding that settled in his bones every time he was dropped off at the front door and the look on her face when she opened it, regretful and inconvenienced. Christ, he'd just been a kid, scared shitless and alone.

He swallowed and fought the memories back.

_No_, he thought, _I'm safe_. _It's nothing like that_.

He glanced at Bella who smiled warmly, confidently back at him.

Yes, he _was_ safe. He was always safe with his Peaches.

The vertebra in his back cracked in protest as Cullen gently stretched, but the soothing popping of his spine was quickly forgotten when the front door of the house opened and a huge fucking Dalmatian came bounding out of it, tongue flopping and tail wagging. Cullen may have stepped behind Bella slightly.

"Harry!" she squealed and crouched down to him as he whined and growled and barked in happiness.

"Harry?" Cullen asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Yes," Bella laughed. "This was the Harry that you got so jealous about when he shared my bed."

"Damn right," he deadpanned. "I'm the only guy that gets to share your bed."

Isabella rolled her eyes and rubbed the mutt's belly until his back legs were scratching and kicking up like a lunatic. "I missed you too, Harry," she cooed.

"Isabella!"

She looked up to see Nana Boo, dressed in a huge parka and mittens, hurrying from the door, smiling widely and looking as wonderful as she always did. Trevor, her grandmother's help, followed with a warm smile.

"Nana," Isabella breathed, feeling instantly at peace. She stood and allowed her grandmother to envelop her in one of her legendary hugs. God, she smelled so good.

"Angel," Nana Boo smiled into Isabella's hair. "It's so wonderful to see you."

"You too."

Isabella kissed her cheek before she pulled back. She glanced towards Cullen to see him looking about as comfortable as a virgin on prom night, shifting on his feet and rounding his shoulders in defence. She immediately grabbed his hand and pulled him gently towards her. She smiled softly, trying to communicate her love for him through her gaze. His grip on her hand was almost painful, but she would have taken all that he had to ensure that he felt protected and comfortable.

"Nana," Isabella said with a dip of her chin. "This is Cullen. He's my...Edward."

Cullen's head almost toppled off his neck he looked at her that quickly. His eyes were wide with surprise, but the smile that threatened the corners of his perfect mouth told Isabella that her words were the right ones.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cullen," Nana Boo offered with an outstretched hand and an ecstatic smile that creased her face in a thousand different ways.

Cullen cleared his throat and took a step towards her. "Nice to finally meet you," he said quietly as their hands met.

Before Isabella could register what had happened, Nana Boo's eager arms encircled Cullen tightly around his waist as she pressed her cheek firmly against his chest.

"Um, hi," Cullen mumbled as he looked back at Isabella over the top of the aged woman's bobbled hat with an utterly staggered expression. Isabella smiled and shrugged in response.

_That's Nana._

"I've been so excited to meet the man who's captured my Isabella's heart," Nana Boo whispered. Her grip on the back of his sweater increased as she continued, "To meet the man who...saved...her."

Isabella saw the tension in Cullen's shoulders ease a little. Their eyes locked emerald with warm Hershey kisses. _I told you, baby. It's alright_. The moment between them, as monumental as it was, lasted a split second, before she mouthed, _'I love you.'_

'_Everything,'_ he mouthed back, making Isabella's heart flutter wildly in her chest.

Nana Boo, who was oblivious to the couple's exchange, stepped back from Cullen, and wiped a finger under her shimmering eyes. "Oh my," she chuckled as she observed the tears on her skin, "Silly old woman."

"Not at all," Cullen said with a half smile.

Nana Boo cupped his cheek and tapped it tenderly. She smiled. "And, Darling, you're just as gorgeous as she described."

Cullen blushed seven shades of red while his eyes flickered to Isabella's. He looked entirely stunned and, as his mouth opened and closed silently like a fish, utterly speechless.

Nana Boo laughed at the vacant expression on his handsome face, and snaked her arm through the crook of Cullen's elbow. "Let's get you inside. It's too damn cold out here. Isabella, give Trevor the keys, he'll collect the bags."

Isabella laughed gently, as Cullen pulled her with him, gripping her hand as though his life depended on it. She rubbed her palm up and down his forearm in placation.

God, he had looked truly terrified when they had been in the car, all wide-eyed and heavy breathing.

He'd reminded her of a wild animal, caged and manic. The fear was almost visible around him, evil and unrelenting, and it tore Isabella apart. She knew where his fear came from. She knew it well because he carried it around with him like a lead weight.

He didn't think he was good enough.

Isabella bit the inside of her mouth and inhaled through her nose, as the hate she harboured for his family rose within her. They had treated him so appallingly, never loving, caring, or nurturing him as he grew that he now considered himself unworthy, with no comprehension of just how incredible a man he had become. It was painfully tragic.

Never had Isabella known a man like him.

She paused as that thought struck, and looked at Cullen's profile in all its hard edged, masculine glory. Yes, she _had_ known a man who was as strong, resilient, and protective as Cullen.

Her father.

"Was the drive good?" Nana Boo asked, as she shut the front door behind them all and pulled off her bobbled hat.

"Yeah," Isabella answered as she took a step closer to Cullen's side, knowing his need for contact was as strong as hers. "He didn't complain about my driving once." She smiled when she saw him roll his eyes. "You may have even turned him into a Jaguar fan."

Nana Boo's eyes lit up. "You like cars?"

Cullen shifted from foot to foot. "Yeah, I, um...I dabble."

"Cullen likes motorcycles," Isabella interjected, ignoring the pointed look that he shot her.

Nana Boo gasped and swooned playfully, "A real life Jimmy Dean! Oh, be still my beating heart."

Isabella giggled into Cullen's shoulder and closed her eyes when she heard him burst with laughter. The sound was truly magical.

"I, um, I wouldn't say that," he murmured as he ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in a million different directions. "But I like them."

"Well, I'll show you the Triumph I have in my garage, later." Nana Boo winked. "You two kids need a warm drink."

Cullen stared after the little woman as she scurried passed them both towards the kitchen.

"She has a Triumph?" he whispered in awe, green eyes twinkling, stunned.

Isabella laughed and stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his open mouth, "And an antique Aston. Come on, _Jimmy_," she teased. "She makes a killer hot chocolate."

Seated around Nana Boo's huge wooden table, Isabella couldn't help but allow the warmth of her grandmother's house, love, and acceptance seep deep into her. Cullen, with his free hand always touching her, sat and listened as, before, during, and after their dinner of enchiladas and Oreo cheesecake, Nana Boo told him story after story of Isabella and her childhood escapades. Stories detailing Isabella falling off horses, climbing trees, and smashing baseballs through windows, kept Cullen enraptured.

Isabella couldn't even allow herself to be embarrassed when a few naked, bath time photographs suddenly appeared. Cullen, however, looked decidedly flabbergasted.

Seeing the man that she loved begin to relax, hearing him laugh, and having him slowly realise that there was nothing to be afraid of, was more than Isabella could have dreamed of. All she wanted from their weekend with Nana Boo was for him to see that he fit into her life.

She wanted him to see that there were people who didn't care about his past and the mistakes that he had made. _Everyone_ made mistakes or made wrong choices. Hell, she'd definitely made a few in her time, and it was important for Cullen to understand that not everybody would hold that shit against him.

She listened when Nan Boo asked him questions about his hobbies, smiling as Cullen became shy and modest about his musicality and his love of all things fast and metal. He explained about _Kala_, and his desire to buy another motorcycle, which led to Nana Boo telling stories about Isabella and her father as they rode up and down the beach for hours, simply to have the sound of the engine in their ears and the wind on their faces.

"She's not changed," Cullen had mused, smiling at Isabella, making her cheeks flush.

Nana Boo was amazing as always, laughing and joking, and never asking questions that made Cullen uncomfortable. She looked him in the eye as she spoke and listened with absolute attentiveness when he reciprocated. Slowly, Cullen's shoulders lost their hard edge and his smile began to appear a little easier. Even his grip on Isabella's hand loosened. He was at ease, comfortable, and looked to be genuinely enjoying his time with Isabella and her grandmother.

There was, however, one slight issue that he hadn't resolved since their arrival, and she knew that it was driving him beyond distraction.

Isabella leaned forward, smiling knowingly when she saw him fidget for the thousandth time.

"You _can_ have a cigarette, you know," she said.

Cullen grimaced and glanced apologetically at Nana Boo. "I'm fine," he murmured. "I don't want to be rude."

"Trevor smokes out on the back porch, Cullen dear," Nana Boo said dismissively as she placed a bowl of Doritos with a sour cream dip onto the table. "Please, feel free. You're on your vacation."

Cullen looked back at Isabella, his eyes searching hers for permission. "It's fine, baby," she assured him, finding his timidity adorable as sin.

"Okay," he conceded with a relieved gust of air. He tapped his long fingers against the edge of the table, hesitating. "I'll...I won't be long."

He stood up from his seat and strode across the kitchen towards the back door. Harry, with claws scratching eagerly across the wooden floor, got up from his place under Nana Boo's seat and followed him happily. Cullen looked down at the dog by his side, cocking an eyebrow in question. In response, Harry simply looked back up at him, sat down, and thumped his tail excitedly. Cullen looked mystified.

"He'll follow you," Nana Boo said with a smirk. "He likes you."

"Okay," Cullen mumbled, keeping his eyes on the dog before he opened the door and they both stepped out into the cold Chicago night. Isabella stared at the door once it closed behind him, lost in the contentment that she felt. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so relaxed.

"He's wonderful," Nana Boo said softly as she sipped her red wine. "He adores you, Darling."

Isabella dipped her chin. "I adore _him_," she confessed. She sighed and allowed her finger to trace the stem of her own wine glass. "He was so nervous, Nana. He wanted to make a good impression so badly."

Nana Boo looked toward the door, her voice smothered in gratitude. "He did that the day he saved your life, Isabella."

"I know." Isabella sat forward, resting her elbows on the table. "I just wish he knew that he had nothing to worry about. He doesn't see himself clearly at all."

"He will in time, Isabella. The bad things are so much easier to believe than the good. If he hears it enough, he will start to see it." Nana Boo smiled to herself, laughing with a soft breath down her nose. "He reminds me so much of..." She shook her head.

Isabella looked up at her grandmother, resting her chin in her palm, "Who?"

"Your father," Nana Boo replied. "He is just like Charlie was when your mother first brought him into the house, all jittery and aching for a cigarette."

"Dad smoked?" Isabella coughed around her wine glass.

Nana Boo smirked and nodded. "He quit when your mother became pregnant with you."

Isabella looked down at the table, smiling. "I never knew that."

Nana Boo's face became thoughtful. "There's a lot I could tell you about your father."

"Please," Isabella encouraged.

"Your grandfather...he never approved of your mother's choice of husband." Nana Boo smiled reminiscently and drank from her glass. "No-one was ever good enough for his Renee."

Isabella exhaled gust of sardonic breath down her nose. "Yeah, it must be a family thing."

This made Nana Boo chuckle. "Yes, your mother is very much like her father."

Isabella paused for a moment, considering all the ways in which her mother had made her feel so entirely disgraceful for choosing Cullen, for choosing Arthur Kill.

Nana Boo leaned forward. "She's protective because she loves you, Angel. She's terrified of losing you."

"She already has," Isabella hissed.

"You don't mean that, Isabella," Nana Boo chided softly making Isabella feel instantly remorseful. She ducked her chin and swirled the wine in her glass.

"So you have an interview for a new job," Nana Boo stated, seamlessly changing the subject to clear the specks of discomfort that filled the air around them.

Isabella nodded, "For a juvenile detention facility in Brooklyn. It's to start in the New Year."

The job had been one of the first that she had come across in Alice's folder of good intentions and, although Isabella hated to admit it, the job sounded fucking perfect. Her application had been accepted almost straight away, which was no surprise considering that she would be working with young men, doing very much the same thing as she did at Arthur Kill.

Deep down, away from the part of her that didn't want to leave Kill, Isabella was excited.

"Brooklyn," Nana Boo repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," Isabella replied quietly, knowing instantly where her grandmother's mind had gone.

Isabella hadn't been back to Brooklyn for a long time.

Sixteen years, in fact.

"It's not far from Dad's facility," Isabella said nonchalantly. "I was thinking of um...you know, visiting it." She looked up to see her grandmother's loving, supportive face. "It's been a while."

Nana Boo blinked slowly and smiled tenderly. "I think that would be precious."

"Cullen said that he'd come with me...make it a bit easier or whatever."

"He's my hero," Nana Boo joked, making Isabella laugh aloud.

"Mine too," she agreed.

"And this is what you want?" Nana Boo asked gently.

Isabella looked up at her grandmother and smiled with a lackadaisical shrug. "I want Edward."

Nana Boo's eyes sparkled with the romance of it all, "As long as you're happy, Isabella. That's all that I care about."

"I know," she replied with a sigh. "I just wish other people felt that way."

"Your mother will come around," Nana Boo uttered, with so much conviction that Isabella almost believed it herself.

_If only_.

It was becoming too much like hard work; trying to dislike someone that she loved. Isabella would have given anything for her mother to be sitting at the table, having a glass of wine, being accepting and happy.

"Why did Grandpa not like my dad?" she asked as she dipped a Dorito into the sour cream.

"Oh well," Nana Boo laughed. "Charlie had a few skeletons in his closet, just like _your_ Edward."

Isabella frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Nana Boo licked her lips and eyed Isabella carefully. "He'd done things, before he met your mom that he wasn't exactly proud of, and your grandfather always had a bee in his bonnet about it."

Isabella was immediately confused. "I don't understand. What did he do?"

"I have some things upstairs that you can take a look at. I think it would be easier to explain things that way."

"It's nothing bad, is it?" Isabella asked warily.

Nana Boo shook her head slowly. "No. It's nothing bad, Sweetheart. Unlike your mother, who thinks it unnecessary, I believe it's time you learned more about what they went through to be together."

Isabella frowned gently.

Nana Boo placed her hand on top of Isabella's and smiled. "I assure you it's nothing bad, or scary, and it'll make sense when you see what I have." She paused and looked towards the back door. "Just know that Cullen and your father are very alike...in many ways."

Before Isabella could ask her grandmother to clarify what she was talking about, the back door re-opened and Cullen hurried back in with lumps of snow covering his dark hair, followed by a very cold looking Harry.

"Jesus Christ, it's fucking freezing out there," Cullen grumbled as he rubbed at his scalp, splattering water onto the floor. "I was shivering like a motherfucker. I can't feel my damned fingers!"

He froze abruptly, clearly realising what he had just said and in whose company.

His eyes darted to Isabella's. "Shit, sorry," he blinked.

He closed his eyes and re-opened them to Nana Boo. "Dammit, I mean, sorry."

Nana Boo stared back before she snorted loudly and cupped her hands to her mouth to stifle her giggles.

"It's quite alright," she managed through her fingers. "I've heard a lot worse. I was married to Isabella's grandfather for nearly forty years."

Isabella could feel her shoulders shaking from holding her own laughter in. Cullen exhaled, shook his head at Isabella, and shuffled back to his seat where he took an enormous gulp from his bottle of beer.

"Thank God," he muttered.

"Don't you worry any," Nana Boo chuckled as she patted his knee, making Cullen laugh lightly. "You just be yourself. You're perfect as you are."

=PoF=

"Are you sure that it's alright?" Cullen asked as he watched Bella roll her small weekend suitcase into their room, the room that they were sharing under her grandmother's roof, with her grandmother down the hall.

It wasn't that he was complaining, fuck, he loved having Bella in his arms in bed, but it just felt..._wrong_ somehow.

"You know," Bella sing-songed from her spot across the room. "For a convicted felon, you sure have prudish ideas about our relationship."

He rolled his eyes at Bella as she skipped into the en suite, pulling her sweater off as she did. Prudish? Sure, that's why he had a semi on just from seeing her naked back. Fuck, she had no idea what she did to him.

"I'm not being a prude," he grumbled. "I just...it's Nana Boo's house." He dropped his ass down onto the edge of the huge bed, ripping his boots and socks off as he did.

He was rubbing the tiredness from his stubbled face when Bella re-emerged from the bathroom, leaning against the doorjamb with a strange expression on her face.

"What?" he asked with a bob of his head.

"You called her Nana Boo," Bella whispered back as she fingered the hem of the t-shirt she had changed into. His t-shirt. The edge of it skimmed her creamy thighs while the v-neck dipped between her breasts. She was a fucking vision.

"Yeah," Cullen replied as his eyes devoured her. "Is that not okay?"

Bella walked towards him slowly, smiling in a way that made Cullen's insides tighten and his blood heat up. She nudged his knees apart with her own, and placed her hands on his shoulders while he placed his gently on her hips. She bent down and rubbed her nose against the side of his.

"It's perfect," she said. "I love that you call her that."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

Cullen hummed when their lips met, gentle, and warm.

"Are you feeling better?" Bella asked as she gradually placed a knee on either side of his thighs on the bed.

"I am now," he growled, moving his hands around to her ass, trailing his lips up the smooth skin between her breasts.

"I meant about-"

"I know what you meant," Cullen smiled against her throat. "And yes, I _do_ feel better. I feel..." He sighed and sat back a little, focusing on the way Bella's hair curled at the tips. "I feel good."

Bella knotted her hands in the hair at the nape of his neck and grinned. "I'm glad, baby. That's all I want."

Cullen nodded and tilted his chin towards the door that led out to the hallway and down towards Nana Boo's room.

"She's fucking amazing, Bella." He shook his head in wonder. "She's just so...I mean, the woman made me an Oreo cheesecake for fuck's sake!" Bella laughed at his excitement. "How cool is that?"

He kissed her jaw. "She's _really_ awesome."

"She is."

Cullen trailed his hands down her sides, over her hips, and tickled the back of her thighs. "For the first time, in a long time," he murmured. "I don't feel like I'm missing anything." He looked up at Bella and placed his lips at the side of her mouth. "I feel like I belong."

"You do belong," Bella soothed. "You belong with me."

Her words made Cullen's body feel soft and malleable and he pulled her closer, desperate to feel her against him. The truth was Nana Boo had blown him away with her hospitality, and the way in which she accepted him with no judgement or underlying wariness. She had greeted him with open arms, crying her thanks for saving her granddaughter's life.

To say that Cullen had been shocked as shit would have been a huge understatement.

Through dinner, and afterwards when the three of them had sat drinking wine, talking, Cullen had felt undeniably secure and welcomed. Hearing stories about his Peaches growing up did strange things to his heart, and brought out a fuck load of emotion that he could neither describe nor explain. All he did know was that the fear that had gripped his lungs had all but disappeared; replaced then with a comforting warmth.

He held Bella nearer and kissed her soundly, growing painfully hard when she ground her heat down onto his lap.

He jumped back, however, as though caught doing something reprehensible, when there was a light knock on the door. "Shit."

Isabella laughed gently, crawled off him after kissing the tip of his nose, and walked to open it.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Darling," Nana Boo said from the other side. "But I wanted to give you this before you went to sleep. It's the details about your father."

Cullen, craned his neck around Bella, but could only make out a large, brown, crumpled envelope clasped in Bella's hand.

"Thanks, Nana," Bella said before kissing her grandmother's cheek.

"Goodnight, Angel," she hummed. "Goodnight, Cullen," she called with a smile lacing her words.

"G'night," he called back, unable to hold his own smile. She reminded him so much of his own grandmother that it was, at times, a little overwhelming. Even her smell made him feel nostalgic, all sweet, and floral, with large brown eyes that he saw every time he looked at his Bella.

He whipped his sweater over his head and pushed his jeans down as Bella closed the door and tapped the envelope leisurely against her knuckles. She looked anxious, and her lip disappeared and reappeared repeatedly into her mouth.

"You okay?" Cullen asked as he pushed the covers of the bed back and slipped in between them.

"Yeah," she answered quietly. She lifted the envelope. "It's some stuff about my dad that Nana Boo wanted me to look at."

"What stuff?"

"I don't know." She held it in both hands and looked down at it. "She said it's nothing scary."

Cullen sat forward and lowered his voice. "You, um...you want to look at it together?"

Bella's eyes lifted slowly to his and a look of intense love and gratitude lightened her entire face. Cullen's breath held tight and his heart flittered like a damn June Bug.

"You don't mind?" she asked.

Cullen smiled and pushed the duvet aside, patting the mattress. "Of course I don't fucking mind, baby. Get over here."

Bella's smile widened before she skipped over to the bed and got in next to him. He wrapped his right arm around her shoulder, kissed her temple, and watched as she took a breath and opened the envelope. He rubbed the top of her arm with his palm as she pulled out a shit load of newspaper clippings and laid them carefully across her lap and his. She fanned them out, stopping at a few that detailed her father's death, his funeral, and the subsequent memorials and remembrance events that had taken place.

Cullen squeezed Bella to his side when he saw a picture of her, taken the night of the murder. She was wide-eyed, clearly terrified, wrapped in a police issue blanket that drowned her tiny frame.

"You were so damned small," he whispered as he trailed his finger over her black and white face. Bella looked up at him and smiled sadly.

"Small," he repeated, as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, "But so fucking strong."

She kissed his lips tenderly, gratefully. "I love you," she murmured.

They spent a few minutes, looking over the clippings before Bella suddenly gasped and cursed in a way that Cullen had never heard before.

"What?" he asked with a smirk. Her dirty mouth was all sorts of fucking hot.

"Look at this," she said as she handed him the paper, ignoring his lascivious glances.

The picture on the article was of Bella's mother, father, dressed to impress, and looking like every other political couple that Cullen had ever seen. However, the headline quickly caught Cullen's attention. _'Senator Swan, served time for misdemeanours'.'_

Holy shit.

His eyes flicked up to Bella's in shock before he looked back at the clipping and began to read. The misdemeanours ranged from graffiti, being drunk and disorderly, dope possession, and, most impressively, car boosting. The penalties that he had been given were tame, due to the Senator's age when the offenses were committed, and it was clear from the tone of the article that the Senator's past had only been brought up in an attempt to blacken Charles Swan's name, but still, Cullen didn't know whether to be exceptionally fucking smug, or stunned.

Either way, he was definitely intrigued.

"I can't believe she didn't fucking tell me," Bella fumed at his side as she read another article.

"Who," Cullen asked, "Your mother?"

She nodded, her face a mixture of hurt and anger, "After _everything_."

Bella ran her hands down her face and slumped back against the pillows, as her voice climbed in pitch, "After everything that she said about my _job_, about _you_."

Cullen picked up all the clippings and carefully placed them onto the side table.

"Hey," he said softly, opening his arms up for her. "Come here."

Sluggishly, and with annoyance making her joints stiff and inert, Bella moved into Cullen's embrace and sighed against his bare chest. He kissed her hair and let the tips of his fingers dance down her spine, sneaking them under her t-shirt, feeling the small dimples at the base of her back.

"How can she be such a hypocrite?" she asked through her teeth. "How could she say such horrible, awful things about my choices, when she made exactly the same ones?"

"They're not _exactly_ the same," Cullen said, utterly confused by the words that came from his own mouth.

Bella lifted her head, "How so?"

Cullen shifted uncomfortably. "Look, I'm not defending the fact that she didn't tell you. That shit is not fair, but your dad boosted a couple of cars and sprayed a few walls with paint." He shrugged. "Compared to me, he's as clean as they come."

Bella's eyes narrowed. "That's not the point, Cullen. She omitted that information and made me feel like crap because I wanted to be with you and I wanted to do a job that would help me overcome my fears and make me stronger. She's done nothing but belittle me, _you_, the decisions I've made, and all the while, she knew that my father had a criminal record."

Cullen cupped her face in an attempt to soothe her. "I know, baby."

"It's not a competition based on who did the worst thing or did the longest time," she continued in a low, disgusted tone. "In the eyes of the prejudice fucks that walk around with their judgemental noses in the air, you and my father are the same."

She looked down at his stomach and shook her head. Her hair tickled the side of his ribs. "My mother knew that. That's why she didn't say anything."

Cullen watched as she laid her cheek on his sternum, looking up at him with sad eyes. For one split second, he truly hated her mother for what she had put her own daughter through. He ran the tip of his index finger down the centre of her nose, following the outline of her top lip that he knew tasted just like raspberries.

"Are you mad at your dad?" he asked.

"No," she whispered, trailing a finger around his nipple. "How could I be? He made some bad choices when he was a kid. So what? He's still one of the best men I've ever known." She paused. "Like you."

Cullen couldn't pull his eyes away from her as she lost herself once more to her thoughts. Her words ruined him. There was no denying it. Christ, she was so damned beautiful, draped across his chest with her passion and fire heating the room around them both. Her thick, dark eyelashes lay heavily across her flushed cheekbones, and her delicate pink tongue, snuck out every so often, to wet her plump bottom lip that tasted of spun sugar.

Fuck, he loved sucking on that when he was inside of her.

Suddenly, his chest stirred, as though a rope wound tightly around his insides, tugging them hard. He moved slightly, trying to ease the pressure that had started to raise within him, up from his stomach, his lungs, to his throat. Everything immediately felt too big inside, as if some unknown force was making his organs swell and push together. It whipped his breath away and set every nerve ending in his spine, alight. His skin erupted in goose flesh and his toes curled in supplication to whatever the fuck it was he was experiencing.

"Are you okay?" Bella asked, noticing his grimace of alarm and uneasiness.

"Yeah," Cullen croaked as he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "Just indigestion, I think."

Bella cocked an eyebrow before she placed a soft kiss below his belly button. "Better?"

Cullen shook his head and wrapped his large hands around her arms, pulling her closer, up his body. "You're too far away," he murmured as they kissed, needing her above him, below him, covering him, engulfing him.

_Oh God._

He pushed his tongue into her mouth, and held the back of her head hard. She groaned and kissed him back, but Cullen couldn't ignore the anxiety that was in her lips. Bella pulled away, her dark eyes flickering quickly, searchingly, between his.

"Baby," she said with adoration in her gaze. "Are you really okay?"

_No._

Cullen swallowed. "I'm fine," he replied.

He tried to keep his voice calm, tried to show in his face that all was peachy fucking keen, but inside, a goddamn carnival was taking place, and, for the love of God, Cullen had no idea how to stop it, or if he even wanted to.

=PoF=

Isabella awoke to the sound of banging. Insistent banging that sounded like it was coming from Nana Boo's front door. Cullen moved with a loud sigh at her side, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist, holding her to his chest. She could have stayed that way until the end of time, having him wrapped around her that way. She never felt as safe as she did in Cullen's arms.

He hadn't let her go all night. He'd wanted to do nothing but cuddle her and spoon her, even though his body had told her that he had wanted a lot more. Whether they hadn't had sex because they were in Nana Boo's house or not, Isabella knew without doubt that there was something...different. He seemed different. She was sure that, as she had laid her head on his chest, something had appeared in his eyes. Something irrevocable and too big to deal with at...

What the hell time _was_ it?

With her face half covered by the pillow, Isabella glanced at the clock to see that it was a little after ten in the morning. How did that happen? Christ, she didn't even remember falling asleep.

"Who the fuck is making that noise?" Cullen grumbled into the nape of her neck, pressing his deliciously hard morning wood into Isabella's ass. "They need to shut up and let me get back to sleep." He yawned. "I was having awesome dreams."

Isabella snorted and rolled over to look at him. "I know," she teased as she brushed her palm over his crotch. "I can feel how good they were."

Cullen cracked one eye open and smirked, lifting his hips from the bed. "Don't pretend that you don't fucking love it."

"I love _you_," she answered instead, making Cullen moan and nuzzle her throat.

"Good," he mumbled into her skin.

Isabella frowned when the banging stopped abruptly and raised voices, spouting inaudible words, echoed up to the room. Cullen looked up at her, a concerned 'v' punctuating the bridge of his nose.

"What the hell's going on?" he asked quietly.

Isabella shook her head, hating the heavy dread that had started to snake up her back. "I have no idea."

Cullen was suddenly on point, protective and cautious. "I'll go and check it out."

"No," Isabella said quickly, touching his forearm as he pushed back the sheets. "I'll go."

"Peaches," he murmured with an annoyed glint in his eye.

"It's fine, I'll-"

"ISABELLA!"

Isabella froze as her skin prickled in cold terror from the tip of her toes to the crown of her head. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes, forced to the ducts by a mixture of fear and absolute fury. The bubble around herself and Cullen burst apocalyptically as the voice pummelled at the bedroom door.

"Mom," she breathed.

"What?" Cullen coughed, shooting onto his feet at the side of the bed, eyes wide as they stared at the door. "Your...Your mom?"

Isabella nodded slowly, robotically, gripping the blankets in her fist.

"Isabella, come out here! I know you're in there with _him_!"

Isabella closed her eyes; unable to look at Cullen for fear that she would fly out of the room and slap her own mother senseless.

"Renee, calm down." Nana Boo's voice crept under the door.

"No, I will _not_ calm down. How could you have _him_ in your house? How could you allow this to go on under your roof?"

"Because it _is_ my roof, Renee, and I am your mother. I don't answer to you."

There was a beat of silence as the acidic tone of Nana Boo's words fizzled into the air.

"I should go," Cullen muttered as he made his way around the end of the bed.

Isabella's heart dropped to her stomach. "NO!" she called out, scrabbling from the bed towards him, catching her foot in the sheet. "No, you don't have to go anywhere, baby, _please_. Don't go."

He avoided her eyes, looking past her to the bedroom door, panic edging his jaw as it tensed and flexed. "I can't be here."

"Yes, you can," Isabella urged, grabbing at his forearms as tears filled her eyes. "You have as much right to be here as I do."

"Bella-"

"If you go, then I'm coming with you," she fumed.

Before Cullen could answer, the door of the bedroom swung open, smacking the back wall of the room with the momentum with which it was forced. Isabella turned to see her mother standing, glaring at the two of them; Isabella in Cullen's t-shirt, and he, bare-chested in a pair of black boxer briefs.

"Get out," Isabella growled.

"I'm not going anywhere," Renee answered quickly as her eyes trailed disgustedly down Isabella's state of undress.

"Renee," Nana Boo chastised. "That's enough."

"Get some clothes on and come down stairs," Renee insisted through thin lips, ignoring Nana Boo. She shot daggers towards Cullen, making Isabella move protectively in front of him. "Alone."

"I'm not doing a fucking thing-"

"It is in your interest to do as you are told, young lady," Renee interrupted, trying her hardest to hide the flinch at Isabella's coarse language. She whirled around like a dervish and marched out of the room, thumping down the stairway like a petulant child.

"What is she talking about, Nana?" Isabella asked as she wiped at the wetness that had appeared on her cheeks.

A shiver ran through her. She was desperate to feel Cullen's arms around her, but he didn't move.

His stillness and silence terrified her.

"I don't know," Nana Boo replied with a despondent shake of her head. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry to both of you. Cullen, I...I had no idea that she was coming."

"Don't apologise," Isabella urged. "It's _her_, not you."

Glancing over her shoulder at Cullen, Isabella felt her stomach roll violently when she saw the look on his face. He was back in Arthur Kill, angry, barricaded, and closed off from everyone around him.

Even her.

"I'll give you a moment," Nana Boo muttered as she sloped unhappily out of the door, closing it softly behind her.

Isabella sniffed and moved quickly towards her suitcase, ignoring the waves of dangerous calm that rolled off Cullen.

When she started talking, the words came out frantic, bumping into one another. "We'll go. We'll get out of here. I don't want to be here with her. Nana can lend us the car again and I'll grab my bag, you can grab yours, and-"

"No," Cullen interrupted, taking Isabella completely by surprise.

She stopped stock still in the centre of the room. "What?"

"Go down stairs and see what she has to say." His voice was low, intense, and direct, but his eyes flittered around the place, searching for a way out.

"But we can leave together," she insisted.

Cullen shook his head and bent down to grab his sweater. "No, you need to speak to her, Bella."

Hurt pinched at Isabella's heart and she folded her arms tightly over her chest to hold herself together. "Why? Why do you want me to talk to her?"

"Because its time you did," he answered brusquely.

She watched as he sat down and started to pull on his socks. "You...can't leave," she whispered helplessly. Her voice broke and a soft sob escaped her. "I need you."

Cullen exhaled heavily and dropped his chin to his chest, "Bella."

"Please, Edward. Don't listen to what she said. It's...it's not true. It's not. Please."

Her breathing started to accelerate, as the thought of Cullen walking out of the door grew more vivid in her mind. Nausea gripped her abdomen.

"I love you," she pleaded, unable to move from her spot for fear that she would shatter. "Please. I'll talk to her if you promise you'll stay."

"Peaches, I can't-"

"You can."

"I'm no good for yo-"

"Don't you fucking dare say that!" she cried as sadness gave way to anger. "You _are _good enough! For fuck's sake, you have to know that!"

Cullen didn't answer and continued to look down at the floor. Isabella felt her heart fracture painfully. Jesus, they were right back at square one.

Isabella took a tentative step towards him. "_Promise_ me that you'll stay. _Promise_ me that you won't leave."

Cullen scrunched his eyes shut and bit his bottom lip in frustration, but Isabella didn't care. She needed to hear the words. She needed to hear him promise. At that moment, it was the most important thing that existed. Nothing else mattered.

"Edward."

"Okay," he sighed in a lifeless voice. "I promise."

"Promise that you won't leave. Say it."

He lifted his head and looked at her, but something deep in Isabella's heart told her that he couldn't see her. He was looking straight through her, and it hurt. It hurt so much.

"I promise I won't leave," he muttered.

He looked so crushed, so broken, and Isabella hated that she was helpless in putting him back together.

"Okay," she whispered, as a large tear dropped onto her forearm. "Okay."

Slowly and silently, she moved around the room, pulling on a pair of jeans and sneakers. She tied his t-shirt at her right hip, and pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail.

"I'll be right back," she said as she stood at the doorway with the crumpled, brown envelope in her fist. "And then we're out of here."

"Bella, I...I..." She waited for him to continue but he simply cracked the knuckles of his right hand and shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

With a lead weight in her stomach and a splintering heart, Isabella opened the bedroom door.

"I'll be right back," she promised.

=PoF=

Isabella walked with purpose and dignity into the sitting room, unable to make out any of the words of the obviously heated conversation that was taking place between Phil and her mother by the large bay window that looked out towards the side of the house.

Nana Boo was absent, a fact that pleased Isabella greatly. Nana Boo didn't deserve to see or hear what was about to happen. The fact that her mother had come into Nana Boo's the way that she had, and on Thanksgiving, made Isabella's teeth grind. Seriously, who was meant to be the parent here?

Isabella stopped with a straight back, arms folded, and hate on her face, when Renee caught her eye. She didn't allow her mother to say whatever it was she had planned to when she opened her lip stained mouth.

"I thought you were meant to be at Phil's parents'?" she snapped. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Renee stared back. "Do not speak to me that way, Isabella."

"And you don't tell me what to do," she retorted. "How _dare_ you come into my room that way, into Nana's house that way."

An edge of remorse crept around Renee's mouth. "Nana is fine, Isabella. It's you who I'm worried about, furious with actually."

"Why?"

"Why? Because my daughter doesn't speak to me, answer my calls. My daughter who, not only works in a damned prison, but is running around town with...with...that-"

"Be careful," Isabella warned as Renee waved towards the doorway.

"I am your mother and I-"

"And?"

Renee blanched and a flash of hurt lit her eyes. "I am here to put a stop to this charade that has been taking place."

"_Charade_," Isabella scoffed at her mother's dramatics. "Could you be any more ridiculous?"

"What is ridiculous is that you are putting your entire career and reputation on the line for some...dangerous, criminal, waste of space who-"

Isabella flew towards her mother, stopping only inches away from her. "You DO NOT speak about him that way!"

Isabella's proximity and the fury that emanated from every pore on her body made Renee pause.

"Calm down," Phil said at her side. He raised his hand towards her shoulder but dropped it quickly. "Just both of you, please, calm down."

Renee swallowed and regained her composure. "You may not believe it, but I'm doing this because I love you, Bells," she said quietly. "He's no good for you,"

"You don't even fucking know him," Isabella spat. "You never even gave him a chance."

Renee looked incredulous. "And how was I meant to do that when you carried on behind my back, Isabella-"

"And it's such a big mystery as to why I did that!"

"Because you knew it was wrong!" Renee countered. "For God's sake, Isabella, you could lose your job!"

"You think I don't know that?"

Renee's face grimaced in puzzlement. "Then why are you-"

Isabella licked her lips and thrust a finger towards her mother. "You have done nothing but make me feel like a disappointment ever since I started working at Arthur Kill. Nothing I have done since I took that job has been good enough for you, even the man that I love is a disappointment in your eyes."

Renee blinked. "Oh, please, you don't _love_ him-"

"With everything that I am," Isabella said flatly.

Renee opened her mouth repeatedly, but no sound would come.

"You have no idea what I have been through these past few months, Mom," Isabella added through a thick throat. "How hard it was to face my biggest fears at Kill, to confront what has kept me awake for the past sixteen years.

Renee's face crumpled. "Isabella-"

"But Cullen has been there for me, with me, helping me, and caring for me when no-one else would." Isabella looked towards the ceiling, furious that her mother would even dare to cry. "When I left here that night it was Cullen that looked after me, and never once has he said anything or done anything to me that warrants such narrow-mindedness from _you_."

"He's a criminal, Isabel-"

"Like dad?"

The room seemed to shrink in on itself as Renee gasped and took an unsteady step backwards. Her face held an expression of complete shock, but her glistening eyes told Isabella that it was checkmate. Renee had nowhere to go, no leg to stand on. Her bigoted attitude and self-righteous beliefs meant exactly shit. And she knew it.

Isabella pushed the crumpled envelope gently against her mother's chest.

"I wonder," Isabella mused. "Did Grandpa's dislike of dad make you want to walk away from the man you loved, or did it push you further into his arms?"

Isabella stood waiting as Renee looked at the envelope in her hands. It was clear from the way in which she didn't rush to open it that she knew exactly what was inside of it, and that knowledge made Isabella's blood boil.

"You should have told me, Mom. It wasn't Nana's job to tell me about dad's past," she said angrily, "Instead of judging me, instead of judging Cullen, you should have been honest with me first." She willed her tears back, hating the weakness that they showed. "How could you lie? How could you make me feel so...alone?"

"I never wanted that, Isabella," Renee countered. "I didn't tell you because I want what's _best_ for you."

"_Cullen_ is what's best for me," Isabella retorted, knowing from her mother's tone that she thought the exact opposite. "He may have made bad choices, made mistakes, but he's a good man and I love him, like you loved dad."

Renee shook her head and closed her eyes. "It doesn't matter, Isabella, you are risking _too _much!"

"Like what?" Isabella cried with her arms wide, "_Your_ reputation?"

"No," Renee snapped, "Yours!"

Isabella watched as Renee moved swiftly over to the sitting room couch, opened her bag, and retrieved her own envelope.

"I received this in the mail yesterday," she said as she held it towards Isabella.

Confused, Isabella snatched the damned thing from her and tugged at the lip of the paper, pulling the contents out.

As soon as she saw what was inside, the edges of her vision greyed out. Her knees became weak and her stomach winced.

_No._

She felt as though she was falling down a deep, dark hole with no parachute and no landing in sight.

_Helpless._

Photographs.

That's what she was looking at.

Photographs of Isabella and Cullen.

Together. Laughing. Outside the library. Walking into his apartment. In Central Park. On_ Kala_. Buying a hot dog.

Isabella shifted through the photographs like a flick book, feeling the bile rise in her throat as she saw image after image of the two of them together, "Who?" she rasped.

"I don't know, Isabella," Renee answered quietly. "But someone has spent a lot of time following you two around." She shifted forwards and lowered her voice. "Someone is making a point and that _scares _me to death. Why would they do this, Isabella? How dangerous is _he_?"

"Cullen isn't dangerous!" Isabella exploded. "Jesus, Mom! He protects me! He's protected me since I was nine years old!"

Renee flinched at Isabella's reaction, but her face immediately changed to one of perplexity. "What do you mean?"

Isabella swallowed, realising what she had just said. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," she stated softly. "You don't trust a thing that I do or say."

"That's not true," Renee argued. "I just..."

"What, Mom," Isabella huffed in exasperation, "worry? Get scared? Guess what?" She waved the photographs to punctuate her point. "So do I, but life goes on, and _Cullen_ isn't dangerous!"

"These people are taking these pictures for a reason, Isabella, and I want to know why! Why did they send them to _me_?"

For one split second, as Isabella looked at her mother's petrified face, and her words reverberated against the walls around them, everything suddenly became crystal clear. Who would take the time to follow her and Cullen? Who would gain anything from having pictures of the two of them together?

The pictures weren't intimate. Not at all. They weren't kissing or touching in any of the images, which begged the question as to how long they had been followed for, and, more importantly, who would know that sending them to Renee would result in arguments and hurt on both sides?

"Shit," Isabella whispered to herself as the pieces started to slide together. "I need to talk to Cullen." She turned on her heel quickly and made for the door, desperate to get to him.

"Isabella, wait!"

Isabella stopped, took a breath, and turned slowly.

"Talk to _me_, Bells," her mother urged, pain lacing her features. She gestured towards the photographs in Isabella's hand.

"Let me help you. I...I want to make this better. I want to make _us_ better." Renee fisted her hands at her front, frustration and hurt clear in the sharpness of her shoulders. "I hate that we're like this. I want...I want my daughter back. Please."

Isabella looked to the floor, fighting back the urge to go to her mother and find comfort in her arms. God, she felt tired. They had _never_ fought this way before, never been so far removed from one another. Even after Isabella's father had died and Renee had fallen into herself, there were still moments of affection and hope.

A part of Isabella's heart wanted there to be a resolution to the bullshit that separated them now, but she knew that that wasn't going to happen.

Too much had been said. There was no bridge big enough to cross the divide that now gaped between them.

"Until you accept that Cullen is going to be in my life," she began sadly. "I can't do that, Mom."

Without waiting for Renee to respond, Isabella hurried back through the lobby and up the stairway, needing to get back to Cullen, to have him tell her that everything would be alright. She needed him around her, needed his scent in her nose and his hair in her hands. She needed his lips on her skin and his voice in her ear.

_I should go._

The hallway to reach him suddenly seemed like a mile long.

"He'll be there," she muttered to herself, as she rubbed at a dead ache that had suddenly settled in her chest. "He promised."

She pushed the bedroom door open, pausing in the doorway, holding her breath.

Empty.

She called his name.

Silence.

_He promised._

"Isabella, please," her mother pleaded gently from the hallway having followed her up the stairs.

But Isabella didn't hear her. Frantically, she stormed into the en suite. Empty. With her heart slamming into her ribs, she dashed back into the bedroom, calling his name.

His bag was gone.

"Cullen!" she called again, pushing past her mother who was still muttering words such as 'amends' and 'love', and threw herself down the steps, running full sprint to the back door.

_Cigarette. He's having a cigarette. He promised_.

"Cullen?" The back door flew open, showing only a thick layer of snow across the vast gardens.

Empty. Silence.

"Edward?"

"Isabella?"

Isabella spun around, almost collapsing in on herself when she saw her grandmother's soft concerned face. "Nana, where is he?"

She shook her head in bewilderment. "I don't know, Sweetheart. I thought he was in your room."

"No. He isn't. He isn't there," Isabella gasped. "He promised me, Nana."

Isabella grappled manically for her cell phone from her jeans pocket as she exploded out of the kitchen towards the front door.

"Please, pick up," she whimpered before the voicemail kicked in.

Her panic reached epic proportions as she threw open the front door to find only more cold stillness. Jesus, she felt as though the silence of the snow would suffocate her. Her breath erupted from her mouth in large grey plumes against the frigid air, as her gaze desperately sought his tall, broad form against the white.

Looking through eyes that released frightened, angry tears, however, all Isabella could see was one single set of large footprints that led down the driveway, away from the house.

Away from _her_.

=PoF=

"Did you speak to him?" Vanessa murmured hopefully into the cell phone that she had pressed firmly against her ear.

"I did," he replied with an exhausted sigh.

Vanessa chewed on her thumbnail. "Was he...is he...?"

"He's a wreck."

Vanessa slumped into the rocking chair that resided in the corner of her son's bedroom, dropping her face into her free hand. Her heart hurt. Her heart hurt so much. She'd have given anything to comfort her Jacob, to hold him and kiss away the shards of pain that she'd left embedded in him when she'd walked away. Her breath left her in stuttered gasps that she tried to muffle with a blue blanket that smelled of baby powder.

"Don't cry," he said softly. "Please, don't cry. We're so close now, Ness. Don't give up."

"He'll never forgive me," Vanessa whispered through heavy tears. "Jacob will never forgive me."

"Yes, he will."

"I'm so, so tired."

"I know, Honey, but I need you to be strong for just a while longer."

"My son-"

"Will be safe, I promise you," he growled. "I'm not going to let anything happen to either of you." His voice became fierce, solid, wrapped in a tone that Vanessa had heard many times before from a man she lived with but no longer knew.

"Do you think Jacob will help?"

There was a beat of silence. "I think he'll do just about anything to see you again."

A painful sound crept up Vanessa's throat but she cupped her mouth before it could escape.

"Really?"

"Really," he answered. "It was all over him. Trust me."

Vanessa took a huge breath and glanced over at the sleeping, dark haired angel that was her entire world.

"Okay," she exhaled.

"_Do _you trust me?" he asked cautiously.

Vanessa paused, delved deep into her heart and found what she knew to be true. "Yes," she whispered. "I do"

"Good girl," he replied in relief. "That's all I want."

"Thank you for everything," Vanessa said fervently.

"You're welcome," he replied with a smile caressing his tone. "Thank _you_. We couldn't have..._I_ couldn't have done any of this without you."

"You're welcome," Vanessa repeated, laughing lightly through her tears. "I just hope it's been enough."

"It will be. Sleep, Ness," he said gently. "I'll be in touch."

=PoF=

The screen of Isabella's cell phone lit the entire room, as she pressed redial once again.

Voicemail.

She blinked tiredly, heavy lids over weary, wet eyes.

She'd heard nothing for twelve hours. Not a text message and no phone call. Silence was all she'd been faced with.

Her head throbbed, her heart was shattered, and her body was exhausted with worry, but, after many hours of rumination, after many tears cried and hundreds of steps paced, she knew that she didn't blame Cullen for any of it. How could she? She couldn't blame him for finding a way out, an escape route. She couldn't blame him for getting away from such prejudice and hate.

No, she didn't blame him at all. She couldn't blame him anymore than she could blame herself.

It had in fact taken six hours, repeated frantic calls, and numerous texts to him for her to recognize that. But she had.

Cullen may have come across as impenetrable, unemotional, and indifferent, but Isabella knew he was anything but. He was as sensitive as she was, more even, hopelessly open and fragile.

If anything, Isabella was at fault for placing him in a situation that he was clearly uncomfortable with, and she hated herself for it. She should have turned the car around when she had the chance. She should have listened to her instincts and read the anxiety in Cullen's eyes. She had wanted to show him that he was enough, prove to herself that she could help him; that she was strong enough to support him.

She had been _so_ selfish.

Nana Boo, always the voice of reason and love, had eventually helped calm her down, and see and understand the reasons for Cullen's departure.

Yes, he _had_ promised, she'd said softly as Isabella had laid her head in her lap. Yes, she _had_ trusted him to mean it, but the truth was, he hadn't. He'd said it because she'd made him. That didn't mean that he'd lied. It simply meant that he cared enough about her to say it.

He knew that she'd needed it, and he'd given it to her. She wouldn't have spoken to her mother if he hadn't and, in many ways, Isabella was glad that she had.

Not that it had achieved much.

Rome wasn't built in a day after all. Their conversations after Cullen had left were uncomfortably stilted, forced, and curt, but they were conversations nonetheless. Isabella had seen on her mother's face as she'd re-entered the house that Renee knew that it was _her_ disgraceful behaviour had forced Cullen to leave. And, whether she admitted it or not, a part of her had to feel guilty.

"How could you?" Isabella had asked, defeated.

"I..."

Isabella hadn't waited for her to say anything else.

Isabella rolled onto her back, clasping her phone tightly to her chest. Glancing out of the window, she saw that the snow was still coming down heavily. She couldn't help but agonize about where Cullen was, but, more importantly, whether or not he was safe.

She'd called the airport, but their flight booking hadn't been altered. She had no idea whether he had taken another flight home, but something within Isabella told her that he hadn't. She had decided, after packing her bag that she would leave Nana Boo's and catch her scheduled flight the following afternoon. Nana Boo, of course, had urged her to stay, telling her that Thanksgiving should be spent with her family, but truthfully, being in the house with her mother, after everything that had happened, simply didn't sit right with Isabella.

Family or not, she needed peace, quiet, time to think.

Just like Cullen had.

Jesus, what he must have felt, hearing Isabella's mother say the things that she had. Isabella's heart broke when she remembered the desolate expression that she had seen on his beautiful face. He had been hurting and she had been unable to stop it. His worst fears, the fears that had been so obvious from the minute they had left New York were entirely realised when Renee had arrived at the house.

Her words of intolerance and unfounded disgust had bulldozed every single piece of confidence and self-assurance that Isabella and Nana Boo had helped construct around him the previous day and night.

Isabella closed her eyes. God, she just wanted to hold him and make it better. She just wanted to tell him that she loved him and that she was desperately sorry for everything.

No matter if he never wanted anything to do with her again, Isabella needed him to hear it.

Her phone lit up, vibrating noisily in her palm. Isabella smiled cheerlessly and put the device to her ear. She knew who it was without looking at the screen.

"Hi, Nana," she said quietly, through a sore throat.

"Hello, my darling," she replied softly. "How are you?"

"Tired."

Nana Boo sighed. "I hate that you are alone on a day like today, Angel."

"It's okay, Nana," Isabella assured her. "I'm still thankful that I have you in my life."

"As I am to have you, Isabella." There was a beat of silence. "Is the room alright for you?"

Isabella smiled. The suite at The Drake Hotel was more than 'alright'. It was Nana Boo's private, personal suite and it was lavish in its luxuriousness, used during Grandpa's political days. It had been the only reason Nana had agreed to allow Isabella to leave; she had to accept the suite for the night.

"It's perfect."

"Make sure you use room service. I've called them so there will be no problem."

"I'm not really hungry, Nana."

"I know, Sweetheart, but try for me, okay?"

"Okay." Isabella rolled onto her side and brought her knees up to her chest.

"He knows where you are, doesn't he?"

Isabella closed her eyes and wrapped her free arm around herself. "I sent him a text telling him and I told the desk to allow him in, but..."

"He'll be fine, Isabella. He just needs time."

"I know," Isabella croaked. "I know."

"I'm sorry," Nana Boo insisted. "I'm just so worried about both of you."

"I'm okay," Isabella lied. "We'll both be okay."

"Please let me know if I can help you in any way."

"I will," Isabella answered with tears in her voice. "Thank you, Nana. I love you."

"Oh, Darling, I love you too, so much. Happy Thanksgiving."

Isabella couldn't help but smile, "Happy Thanksgiving to you."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

Ending the call, and seeing that she still had no texts from Cullen, Isabella allowed herself a moment to release a few more tears. They were tears for Cullen and the pain he was no doubt feeling. Tears of the anger she felt towards her mother for doing that to the man she loved; tears for Nana Boo and the awful situation she had become an unwilling part of. Tears of fear when she thought of the photographs and the repercussions of their existence, and tears for her daddy.

Jesus, how she missed him and needed him to make everything better.

She was so sorry that he wasn't there.

She was so sorry for everything. So sorry and so tired.

Before she could think any more about the shitty mess that she found herself in, blissful, quiet sleep overwhelmed her.

=PoF=

There was a noise.

Nestled right on the edge of Isabella's consciousness, in a place between dark and light, and reality and dreams, there was definitely a noise.

In her sleep-induced haze, Isabella flung her arm out to press the alarm on the digital clock in an effort to stop the...

_Knock Knock Knock_

Blinking back the sleep that glued her eyes together, Isabella sat up disorientated, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings.

The Drake Hotel, Chicago.

With her now dead cell phone still clasped in her hand and her clothes warm and damp from sleep sweat, she shuffled to the edge of the bed, listening for the sound that had woken her.

Silence.

She flicked on the bedside lamp, drowning the room in elegant, bespoke light. She listened again, frowning in frustration, wishing that her brain would shake itself awake so that she could focus properly. She took a sip of water.

There was nothing.

Silence.

Of course there was only silence. Why did she expect anything else?

Maybe it had been a drea-

_Knock Knock Knock_

Gradually, cautiously, Isabella lifted from the edge of the bed and made her way across the bedroom and into the large sitting room of the suite, flicking lights on as she went. _Who the hell? _She couldn't remember ordering room service, but maybe Nana Boo had taken the liberty. She always looked after her. It was Isabella's favourite thing about her grandmother.

Cursing herself for not noting the time, Isabella dragged her feet towards the door, rubbing her face while simultaneously fixing the nest-like hair that resided on her head.

_Knock Knock Knock_

"Hang on a second," Isabella called sleepily. "I'm coming."

Ignoring the peephole and grumbling with the numerous locks on the door, Isabella was still talking towards her feet when she finally got the fucking thing open.

"Sorry," she apologised as she suppressed a yawn. "I was asleep. What's the prob...?"

Isabella's words died in her throat when her eyes met the tall, unexpected figure standing before her.

He wasn't even standing in fact, he was slumped, leaning heavily against the door jamb with water dripping from his hair and down the sides of his stubbled, tired face.

His beautiful, _perfect _face.

Christ, he was so fucking beautiful.

"Cullen," Isabella squeaked dazed, unsteady on her feet, and still believing that she was dreaming. "Where the...what are...?"

Her eyes travelled down his body in disbelief. His clothes were saturated, clinging to his strong form, and the knuckles of his hands were white from the cold. His lips were tinged a dark blue and, as she looked at him with wide-awake eyes, she realised that he was shivering.

Relief and shock gave way to panic.

"Jesus, you're freezing," she exclaimed, coming to her senses. "Come in and-"

"No," he rasped, shaking his head and licking the subsequent water that fell to his lips. "I can't."

Isabella's heart stuttered. "Why?"

He kept his eyes to the floor. "Because I...I have to...there's...fuck..." He shook from head to toe and made a pained noise deep in his chest.

"Cullen, you're going to get sick," Isabella coaxed. "Please-"

"No!" he said loudly, too loudly for a sleeping hotel. "I need..." His chin dropped to his chest. "I have to say something first."

Isabella felt her knees buckle slightly and found herself leaning on the edge of the door for support. Say something? She swallowed. This was it, she thought. This was what she had dreaded the most.

He was leaving for good.

_Oh God. Oh God_. Her heart skipped several beats and her insides clenched in preparation for the devastating impact of his words.

"Okay," she choked. She cleared her throat and exhaled. "But please let me say something first."

She took his silence as acceptance, even though his eyes remained glued to the sumptuous royal blue carpet below their feet. Closing her eyes and praying that she was able, she began to think of all the things that she had wanted to say to him.

"I'm...so, so sorry, Cullen," she started inadequately, knowing that her words would come nowhere near to fixing the damage and the anger that he must have been feeling.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry for everything. I shouldn't have brought you here. It was selfish and cruel and...My mother was...Fuck...Everything that she said was bullshit, Cullen, I promise you. She's the only one who believes it. She's so fucking scared about losing me and...I don't know...Christ, I don't even _care_ about her. I hate her for what she said. I hate her for making you doubt everything that I have ever said to you.

"And I don't blame you. I don't blame you for walking away because I would have done the same, and I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you from the things that you were so scared about. I'm sorry that...God, Edward, I'm just so fucking sorry."

Isabella leaned her forehead against the door and sniffed back her tears. "I love you," she breathed. "I love you so much."

Despite her sleep, she felt exhausted, drained, and terrified that it was going to be the last time she ever looked or spoke to him. But, she had said all she could. Truthfully, she could have spoken, and explained and apologised until she was blue in the face, but if he didn't know how sorry she was now, he never would. She just had to pray that it had been enough.

"I'm sorry too," he uttered, making Isabella lift her head to look at him. He was still looking at his feet. "I'm sorry for...so much."

"You have nothing to-"

"Let me fucking finish," he snapped, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

Isabella closed her mouth and nodded.

"I need to say this without you interrupting or arguing with me, okay?"

"Okay," Isabella agreed meekly.

"I have plenty to be fucking sorry for, Bella," he ground out through his teeth, pressing his clenched fist against the wall. "I'm...It's just...you are...you're...fuck, you're _everything_ to me...and...I'm sorry that I was such a fucking idiot to have believed...I was _ever _good enough for you."

Isabella pressed her lips together and cupped a hand to her mouth to stop the words of protest that threatened.

"I'm sorry that I'm weak. I can't...fuck, I just...you wreck me sometimes, Bella. Things that you say to me...The way that you...love..._me._"

He touched his torso and blinked slowly as though the thought of her loving him was still utterly implausible.

"They do things to me, your words, they make me feel things that nothing else has ever done," he continued. "_You_ make me feel things that no-one else has ever done."

He paused and shifted nervously on his feet.

"I'm sorry that I've done shitty things, and that I was a fuck up, _am_ a fuck up. I can't ever take my mistakes back, Bella. I hate that fact, but I can't. They are what they are and I am who I am because of them."

His body seemed to collapse further against the doorframe and his head dropped under the weight of whatever was going through his complicated brain. Isabella stayed rooted to the spot, desperate to do as he asked, but also desperate to touch him; reassure him.

"I'm sorry that I left," he whispered. "I shouldn't have, I know that I promised, but it was...so fucking hard." He pressed his forehead against the wall and shook his head, breathing heavily.

"I was terrified that...Christ, I knew that I should have just fucking stayed in the room and not listened, but...shit...I wanted to know what your mother thought about me." He laughed humourlessly. "Who knew that I was a fucking masochist, huh?"

Tears slipped down Isabella's face, as she watched the beautiful boy before her, crumble.

"I grabbed my bag and left," he admitted sheepishly. "Snuck out of the house like the fucking coward that I am, and I'm sorry. I just didn't know what else to do, Bella. I just felt like the fucking walls were closing in on me."

"Edward," she whispered.

"I felt so fucking sick when I heard her say those things," he continued "Sick because I knew that she was right. And I _know_ you don't agree, but she's your mother, Bella, and she cares about you. She doesn't want you with someone like me, and I get that, I really do. Shit, it kills me, but...I get it."

He shrugged one shoulder. "The only way I figured it, was that it was better for everyone if I simply left." His long lashes pressed against his cheek bones as he closed his eyes. "I shouldn't fucking _be here_."

He stood, motionless, silent.

All Isabella could hear was the pounding throb of her heart as it raced in fear behind her rib cage. Her skin felt clammy and the knot of helpless terror in her gut tightened incessantly.

"Then...why _are_ you here?" she asked, allowing her gaze to flicker up to his face. Her voice sounded alien, far away.

A wry smile twitched at the corner of Cullen's mouth. "Walking out of that door, Bella, was the hardest thing I have ever fucking done."

He pressed a hand to his chest, over his heart. "When I left...There was this..._pain_, like a...I don't know; it was...it took my fucking breath away. And the further I walked away from you, the more painful it became. Bella, I...I thought I was dying."

"Baby," Isabella sighed, as tears fell from her eyes. She knew the feeling he was talking about too well. She'd felt nothing but pain since she realised that he had gone.

"I walked and walked," Cullen continued. "And it hurt more and more. I was so fucking mad with myself, Bella. I knew that I had to keep going, and I tried. You have to believe that I tried so fucking hard. But...my heart...Jesus; it was...it was fucking _breaking_."

He staggered slightly as he stood up as straight as his exhausted body would allow and looked at Isabella for the first time.

Her heart literally stopped as their eyes met.

The green in them was worn, aged, defeated, and it terrified her.

"I'm no good for you, Bella," he said miserably. "I hate that I've caused so much trouble, and that you've had to defend yourself against the people that should be happy for you. I have issues, I'm an angry fucker, and I have a terrible temper. I still have shit that I need to tell you about myself, and I have no idea where to start because I'm scared shitless that you'll run from me, and I know that makes me a selfish bastard for expecting you not to when I _know_ that's the best thing for you to do."

"Edward, I-..."

"Wait," he interrupted, breathless, taking a wobbling step towards her. He was so close that Isabella had to lift her head to look at him, her eyes level with the sharp edge of his jaw.

"Just...please..._Peaches_...I want..." He exhaled in frustration. "I _want_ to do the right thing. I know that I should walk away. I _know_ that I should have put my fucking ass on a plane and gone home instead of standing outside of this hotel for four hours in the fucking snow. I _know_ that you deserve better. I know all of that, Bella. But the truth is...the truth is..."

Isabella closed her eyes, swaying towards him. "What?"

She shivered when she felt his ice-cold hand cup her neck and move tenderly to her cheek.

"The truth is, Bella," he whispered, his lips by her ear. "I'm scared. I'm_ so_ damned scared to walk away, to leave...because I honestly don't fucking know how to live without you."

Isabella clutched his forearm, leaned her head on his bicep, and released a soft, pained sound of relief.

"I'm yours, Bella," he murmured as his nose travelled up her temple. "I can't...I can't be without you because _I'm yours_. You have to know that. _Christ._ Tell me you that you know."

"I know," she whimpered. "I know because I'm yours too. It's always been just you and me."

Isabella's lungs lost all the air that they held as Cullen's body fell into hers, pushing her stumbling back into the hotel room. Isabella managed to shut the door with the edge of her foot as he buried his face into her neck and began to shiver uncontrollably, mumbling words that she couldn't decipher.

His arms wrapped around her waist within seconds, gripping her tightly. Tighter than he ever had before.

But Isabella didn't care.

She didn't care about anything at that moment other than the man in her arms. The beautiful, broken man who couldn't live without her.

"I love you," she told him as she gripped the back of his soaked hair. "I love you."

"Bella," he croaked. "I...Bella...Don't make me go. _Please._"

"Never, baby," she promised fervently. "No-one can take you away from me."

"_Bella_," his body shook almost violently against hers.

"Let's get you warm, Sweetheart. Please let me help you. You're so cold."

He stepped back reluctantly so that she could unzip his jacket, which she pushed off his shoulders. Its wet weight hit the floor with a resounding thud at the same time that Cullen dropped his bag. He stood silently, looking downwards, his hair dripping on the floor, as she began to undress him. He was so lost.

Wordlessly, and with his top half bare, Isabella took his shaking hand and led him to the suite bathroom.

Leaving him by the door, she switched on the five large showerheads, turning them to warm. Hating the barren expression on his face, she removed his boots and socks, unfastened his jeans, and helped him out of his underwear before she took off her own clothes.

As naked as they were together, there was no sexual charge, no fizzling atmosphere, no desperate hands, or manic kisses.

With her palm in his, Isabella guided him into the shower, moving so that the water hit his body first. As they stood under the stream of wet warmth, she slowly turned the temperature up, not wanting to shock his body with the heat. He was absolutely freezing, with goose flesh puckering every inch of his skin.

"Come here," she murmured, pulling him into her arms. "Let me make you warm."

He wound his arms around her, dropping his face to her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice punctuated with shivers and shakes.

"Shh," Isabella soothed. "Don't be sorry. You're here now."

"I...I...couldn't do it." He shook his head against her neck. "I couldn't leave. I know I should have, but I couldn't."

"I know, baby. It's okay."

"I'm so scared, Bella. _Fuck_. I'm so scared." His voice broke as he pulled her closer, his large frame dwarfing hers, making her spine bend backwards.

"Don't be scared," she insisted as she rubbed his back. "I'm here."

Cullen tried to move closer, but their bodies were as close as they could be. "I can't...I can't lose...you're...fuck, you're everything. I...God...it _hurts_...to think about it."

His fingers pressed into her flesh, his voice becoming hoarse. "Help me," he begged. "Help me. I can't...breathe."

"Edward," Isabella urged. "Calm down, baby. Please."

Manoeuvring herself as best as she could while holding them both upright, Isabella managed to guide them both down to the shower floor; a mass of heavy limbs that never unravelled or lost contact.

"Just breathe," she said as calmly as she could, feeling tears prick the back of her eyes.

She had never seen him this way before. Every barrier of his that she had ever come up against, every last piece of his punk ass armour that remained, the cockiness, the indifference, the anger and the hate, was disintegrating before her, leaving his body with every drop of water that hit him, running off his trembling skin, and disappearing down the drain like dirt.

She cradled him against her, pulling him closer, winding her arms around his inked shoulders and her legs around his waist, while he pressed his rough cheek firmly against her chest. His shoulders shuddered and heaved and his breaths left him in gasps and hiccoughs.

Isabella heard him moan at the same time that his body shook.

_Oh God._

He was crying.

"Baby, I'm here," she soothed.

She ran her hands up his back and neck, trying to calm him as best as she could while struggling to keep herself together. "You're alright, Sweetheart. I'm here."

"I...I...Bella," he stammered through sobs. "I need...I need to..."

"What?" Isabella asked as she kissed his neck, "Anything, Edward. _Anything_."

"It won't...I can't."

"Tell me."

"Jesus, it's...it's...it's here." He grappled for her hand and pulled it to the left side of his bare chest.

Over his thundering heart.

"Can you feel it? I've never felt...anything like it." He licked his lips. "It hurts. _Fuck_. It's everywhere."

"Your heart?" Isabella questioned. "Your heart hurts?"

He nodded as his face crumpled.

"It's yours," he groaned as Isabella watched the hot water, fall down his face, over his perfect mouth, merging with his tears.

"All...of it, Bella," he continued as he quickly blinked his sodden lashes. "I know now. I know that it..._I_ can't be without you."

"You won't ever be without me," she urged, kissing and nuzzling his hair and the tip of his ear. "I promise."

"Bella, I..."

"What, Edward?"

Cullen lifted his head and, with his nose at the side of hers, his arms wrapped around her, and with the steam of the water cocooning them both, he opened his mouth, looked into her eyes, and breathed.

"I...I..._love_ you," he whispered.

**Holy...**

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	39. Chapter 39

**Greetings!**

**Once again, I'm sorry for the delay, but I was on vacation last week, and…well, sorry.**

**Your patience is greatly appreciated.**

**Huge hugs, kisses, and gropes to the PAW Princesses on twitter and the fabulous ladies on Twilighted and Facebook. Your support means more than you know.**

**The response to this story still leaves me staggered (the last chapter was insane) but all I can say is thank you.**

**From the bottom of my heart.**

**We left Cullen and his Peaches at a fairly crucial moment last chapter, and many of you will be happy to know that, apart from one small section, it is a PAW/Peaches chapter.**

**Some readers don't seem to understand the necessity or like the subplots of PoF (i.e Nessie/Aro/Agent Biers/Jacob) and, for this, I am sorry but, even if it doesn't seem it, they are integral to the rest of the story. Nevertheless, with that being said, feel free to skim…**

**You might notice that this chapter is shorter than my others are, but if I kept going it would have been mammoth and would have taken even longer to update.**

**You'll understand when you reach the end. I hope.**

**See you on the other side…**

_**Chapter song**__**s**__: Coldplay ~ Fix You, Beautiful Disaster ~ Kelly Clarkson, Something ~ The Beatles _

"_When you smiled you had my undivided attention. When you laughed, you had my urge to laugh with you. When you cried, you had my urge to hold you. When you said you loved me, you had my heart forever."~ __**Unknown**_

**Chapter 38: Lights Will Guide You Home**

"_Bella, I..."_

"_What, Edward?"_

_Cullen lifted his head and, with his nose at the side of hers, his arms wrapped around her, and with the steam of the water cocooning them both, he opened his mouth, looked into her eyes, and breathed._

"_I...I..._love_ you," he whispered._

=PoF=

Isabella blinked slowly, dazed.

The water that pummelled their bodies suddenly seemed to increase in both volume and heat, as she stared in shocked wonder at the shivering man in her arms.

"What?" she murmured as her vision blurred with tears of relief, love, and exhaustion.

She'd heard him, of course she had, but Christ, she needed to hear those words again. She needed to hear those incredibly precious words, as they fell from his insanely perfect mouth. She needed to hear them as they dissolved into the heat and steam around them, just so the memory of the moment would stay with her forever.

Cullen closed his eyes and pushed his lips together, gathering himself. Isabella was all of a sudden fascinated by the way, in which the hot water ran down the sides of his sharp nose, falling to his pouting mouth, before it spilled down his chin and neck in small rivulets that made the skin of his chest turn a beautiful red.

He was exquisite, masculine, perfectly flawed, and tragically broken, and he was telling her that he loved her. A small whimper escaped Isabella's throat as her mind began to clear and Cullen's words started to settle into every inch of her body, jolting her heart like a damned defibrillator. She realised that she was holding her breath when her lungs began to burn.

Moving slowly, Cullen pressed his forehead gently to Isabella's, and cupped the side of her face.

"I..._love _you, Bella," he croaked. He took a deep stuttered breath that made his large shoulders tremble. "I...Christ, I...love you so _fucking_ much. I..."

He lifted his head, as though it weighed a hundred tonnes, and slowly opened his eyes. The colour of them was much brighter than it had been before - from the tears that he had cried - flashing emerald, shamrock, and pea green. His large, deep pupils, however, bore into Isabella in such a way, the air in her lungs abruptly disappeared.

"You're everything," he said with a slow shake of his head, his gaze never wavering. "And I can't be without you."

Water cascaded over them as, together, they breathed heavily, clinging to one another as though they were both petrified at the mere _thought_ of being separated again.

With her eyes flickering all over Cullen's terrified, yet expectant face, Isabella found herself without words. Hell, what she was feeling within her heart, mind, and soul was _beyond_ words. Over and over she opened her mouth to say something, something momentous or meaningful, but found that his confession had left her entirely dumbstruck.

He loved her?

He _loved_ her.

_He loves me._

"Edward," she breathed, closing her eyes and releasing her tears at the same time that his name left her. "I...I love you too, baby. I love you more than anything."

Her heart fluttered like a thousand butterfly wings beating frantically behind her ribs when his hand moved to her neck, skimming her wet skin tenderly with the tips of his fingers, tracing the pulse point in her neck that she knew was going crazy.

"Bella," he replied, with his stare fixed on her collarbone, "_My_ Bella." He leaned down and pressed a soft, wet kiss to her throat. He moaned and gripped her harder. "You're mine?"

"Yes," she answered, as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she wrapped her arms securely around his neck. "I'm yours."

"Every part?" he asked with his lips at her jaw. "Tell me, Peaches. Tell me that I have every part of you. I need...I need to hear you say it."

Winding her fingers through his sodden hair, she nodded with her cheek against his. The feel of his rough stubble on her soft skin made parts of her body clench and twist in subjugation.

"Every part," she whispered fervently. "You have every part of me. And I love you with _every_ part of me. I always have."

"Jesus," he murmured by her earlobe. "It's so...Bella, it's...I don't even have fucking words."

"I know," Isabella said with a small smile. "It's okay. I know."

She knew exactly what he meant. Theirs was a love that was beyond words, beyond reason, beyond even the two of them. It was indescribable, inexplicable, but unbreakable and unyielding.

It simply..._was_.

Their connection, their bond, was sixteen years in the making. Even though they hadn't known one another, and had gone about their lives from one monotonous day to the next, they had still been a part of each other, a silent, integral part that would always be, for as long as they both lived.

They were both powerless to stop it or deny it.

Seeing Cullen so broken was enough proof for Isabella. Being apart was simply not an option for either of them. No matter whether Isabella lost her job, no matter what the consequences of their relationship were going to be, they would face them together. She had to have faith in that.

And she did.

Photographs, hypocritical parents, and prejudice were nothing against what Isabella felt, what she knew Cullen now felt. A surge of overwhelming strength swept through Isabella's body, pumping adrenaline through her veins that were already hot from the words that Cullen had uttered. It was an uplifting sensation, one that she had not felt for a very long time.

For the briefest of moments, with Cullen in her arms, and determination filling her from head to toe, Isabella felt truly unstoppable.

"Come on," she whispered, as the temperature of the water dropped slightly. "We need to get you to bed, baby. I don't want you to get sick."

Cullen nodded but stayed silent, not wanting to move one inch away from his Peaches. Fuck that shit. He never wanted to be away from her ever again. He kissed her neck gently and sighed. He was so fucking tired.

Sluggishly, he sat back, lifted gradually up onto his knees, and pulled Bella with him as he stood on shaky legs. He watched her with rapt attention as she switched off the water and stepped out, naked, wet, and glorious onto the marble floor, pulling two large towels from the radiator as she did. He took the towel with an appreciative dip of his chin and wound it around his hips as she did the same over her chest and under her arms.

He followed her, unthinkingly, into the bedroom of the suite, and watched as she pulled back the covers on the bed and gestured for him to sit down. He smiled weakly because, Jesus, if every inch of his body wasn't aching. His lungs still felt frozen and his head and neck, as he rubbed them dry, felt stiff from the snow and cold that he had walked through all day. The shower had thawed him some, but deep down inside, at his core, it was still like the fucking Antarctic.

Before he got into bed, he grabbed his bag and pulled out a _Strokes_ t-shirt and a large black sweater that he pulled, unceremoniously, over his head. After pulling on a pair of boxer briefs, he was ready to go, snuggling under the blankets and kicking the quilt so that it wrapped under his feet that were like two fucking blocks of ice. He covered himself up to his lower lashes and wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to warm up, pulling his knees up to his chest.

He felt his entire body lift and open up like something out of some cheesy, seventies pop record, when Bella wandered back into the room, hair damp and wavy around her face. She was stunning, ethereal in her beauty. He tried to calm himself but struggled. Goddamn it, the emotions he was feeling were relentless. His body, as cold as it was, didn't feel like his own.

It was as if it had been taken over by something, was being _controlled_ by something.

Something bigger. Something incomprehensible.

He closed his eyes and exhaled a calming breath.

Who was he kidding? _Bella_ had taken him over. It was _Bella_ who had control over him.

She'd had a hold on him for so long. She'd had a hold on him since he was eleven years old. And, if he hadn't realised it before, he sure as shit knew now that he had loved her every second, minute, and hour of those sixteen long years.

One hundred and ninety-two months. Five thousand, eight hundred and forty days.

Jesus, how had he survived without her for so long?

He loved her desperately, obsessively, and, truthfully, it scared him to death. He'd missed her without even knowing her and fantasised about her whenever he had begun to lose himself to the bullshit that surrounded him as he grew up. If he wasn't so exhausted, Cullen would have laughed at his own tragic blindness and the ridiculous denial that he had immersed himself in since Bella had come back into his life.

He'd lost himself to her on a lonely, dark street one heartbreaking night in Brooklyn, and now he finally understood that he'd never, ever found himself again.

He rubbed his sternum, willing his airways to open up a little more.

_She's here. She's here with me. I'm safe._

He swallowed in an effort to clear the blockage of chaos that resided in his centre. It helped, but only slightly. He was slowly coming to the understanding that it was a losing battle.

_Love._

Never had he experienced anything like it; the force of anything like it or the absolute need that came with it.

He needed Bella like air.

Cullen paused his inner ramblings and grumbled to himself. Fucking clichés. Never would he have considered himself a man to live by them, but, dammit, there was no other way of explaining it.

He wiped a palm down his face, brushing the clouds of tiredness away.

Fuck, he had been such a damned fool to think that he could ever get away without speaking those three words to his Bella. The three words that he had never uttered to another human being in his entire fucked up life.

The words, when he'd spoken them to her, had shattered his body and stuttered from between his lips before he could even comprehend them.

They'd taken his ass by surprise, but the relief that came with them was more freeing than any parole board's release letter could ever be.

He loved her. _God_, he loved her.

He loved her with everything that made him who he was - the good, the bad, and the downright ugly.

Shit, the realisation of that fact had nearly taken his damned feet from underneath him. Four hours after walking out of Nana Boo's, and finally unable to ignore the ruthless pain that had appeared deep inside of him, he'd found himself panting, disorientated, leaning against a street light, having no fucking clue as to whether he was having a heart attack or a complete psychotic breakdown.

Initially, the latter had seemed much more likely. Until his heart began to hammer and his chest began to constrict at the absence of his girl.

His other half.

Talk about self-flagellation.

Walking away from Bella was as close to being burned alive as Cullen imagined he would ever get. It seared through him and crippled him in such a way that he was rendered immobile, bracing himself frequently with his palms against his knees, trying to catch his breath, while ignoring the concerned and wary looks that came from the people who passed him on the streets of Chicago.

He never wanted to feel that pain again. _Ever._ He doubted very much that he would even survive it a second time. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

_He's no good for you._

Cullen clenched his eyes shut and tried like hell to take no notice of Renee Swan's cruel and unrelenting words as they continued to echo around his deadbeat brain.

His heart kicked in panic and his eyes immediately darted back to where Bella was standing at the end of the bed.

_She's here. I'm safe._

"I've turned up the heating in the room and I ordered some tea and food," Bella explained quietly while she dropped her towel and pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

His _'Get off my Dick'_ t-shirt.

"We need to heat you from the inside out now."

Cullen nodded and watched her as she walked over to the bed and climbed in behind him, spooning him with her small, warm body. She nuzzled his neck and kissed the tail of his hair, as she rubbed her hands up and down his arms and waist in an effort to spread the heat and keep the blood pumping.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, never taking her mouth away from his skin.

"Yeah," he answered in a long breath, "Tired."

"I know, Sweetheart, but try and stay awake until you have some food inside of you."

"I will," he murmured, feeling his lids grow even heavier as Bella shifted her knees closer to the back of his. "Tighter," he urged.

He smiled and hummed in contentment when he felt her hold on him increase and her body get impossibly closer to his. Scarily, Cullen realised that her grip on him was the only thing keeping his ass together.

"Why are you here?" he asked groggily.

"Because I love you," she answered without hesitation.

Cullen laughed lightly and pulled her delicate hand up to his mouth. He kissed her knuckle tenderly and breathed in the vanilla scent that covered her wrist.

"I meant, why are you in a hotel? Why are you not at Nana Boo's?"

Bella exhaled and dropped her voice to a low murmur. "I couldn't stay in that house with _her_, Cullen. I couldn't...even _look_ at her." He heard the anger in her tone and kissed her hand again. "I don't want anything to do with her."

Cullen felt his stomach clench in guilt and frustration. He knew that she was talking about Renee and it ripped him apart. There was no use in denying it anymore. _He_ was responsible for the animosity between the two women and it left him feeling utterly helpless.

Of course, Renee hadn't given him a chance, she was a hypocrite, self-righteous, and would no doubt laugh in his face should he try and explain his feelings for her daughter, but he hated it nonetheless. Bella had already lost one parent; he didn't want her to lose another.

"Don't say that, baby," he whispered, feeling his body tense with fatigue. "I know you're angry, but..." He moved his hand down and behind himself, finding her thigh. He squeezed it gently. "Try not to be _too_ angry with her. Please."

He felt Bella breathe heavily against the nape of his neck. "Don't ask me to do that," she replied with ice dripping from her words. "She's-"

"Your mom," Cullen interrupted firmly. "You only get one mom, Bella. Fuck, some of us don't even get _that_ luxury."

He held her arm securely when he felt her try to pull away. "Don't," he begged in panic. "Please stay here."

"Shhh," she soothed as she quickly settled back against him. "It's alright. I was just moving so that I could see your face. I'm not going anywhere."

She kissed his shoulder lightly, once, twice, three times, making Cullen's heart skip with each one.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his sweater. "I'm sorry. I know what you're saying, I do. But...I'm just so...I hate that she's the way she is. I hate that she won't listen or see past her fear."

"I know," Cullen answered with a regretful sigh. "I know."

They lay that way, in silence, caressing each other softly, until a light knock came from the door. Begrudgingly, Cullen released Bella's hand so that she could answer it, and slowly sat up, resting his weary body against the pillows, as she wheeled the tray back in.

"Is that toast?" he asked when the luscious smell of warm bread muscled its way into his nostrils. Unbelievably, his stomach growled in hunger.

"Yeah," Bella smiled back as she began to pour the tea. "Do you want some?"

Cullen nodded bashfully, "Yeah." He watched as, after smearing them with copious amounts of butter, Bella placed two pieces of toast on a plate, which she handed to him along with a large mug of tea.

"Thanks," he said with a smile. "I've never had breakfast served to me in bed before." He gestured towards the clock that read two thirty AM.

"Don't get used to it," Bella sassed back with a small wink.

Cullen laid his plate on his lap and sniffed the mug, curling his lip in distaste.

"That's _Earl Grey_, Cullen," Bella chided, watching him with a humoured glint in her eye. "Drink it."

"I don't give a shit," he grumbled. "It stinks." He sipped it cautiously, raising his eyebrows in surprise when he realised that it didn't taste half as bad as it smelled. "Whatever," he muttered when Bella gave a satisfied snort.

Bella sat down next to him with a cup of her own tea and a bagel, which she ate slowly. Cullen allowed himself to steal occasional glances of her, hating the juvenile feelings that were coursing through him. Like a teenager with a fucking crush, he felt tongue-tied and uncomfortable in his skin, which was fucking ridiculous. It was Bella for crying out-loud, and he was a grown ass man.

He knew that he needed to get his shit together and quick, but his outpouring of emotion and his confession of love, had seemingly stripped him of all of his usual arrogance and confidence. He felt naked, bare, and utterly terrified that he would say or do the wrong thing.

"Is it better?" he asked with his eyes trained on his plate.

Bella swallowed and frowned in confusion. "Is what better?"

Cullen exhaled in frustration at himself and placed his empty dishes on the bedside table. "Is it better...now that I've said that I...you know..."

_Yeah, fucking tongue-tied_.

The left side of Bella's mouth lifted and her cheeks washed a stunning pink when she finally grasped what he was asking. "Yeah," she replied quietly. "It's better."

Cullen smiled. "Good."

"I like hearing you say that you...you know..."

Cullen looked up at her to see a teasing grin on her beautiful face. "I do," he murmured fervently. "I really do. _So_ much, Bella. You know that, right?"

Bella blinked slowly. "Yes," she answered. "I know."

The relief that surged through Cullen on hearing Bella's words was overwhelming and he found himself slumped back against the pillows, holding the quilt to his chest. _She knows_, he thought to himself. _Thank God, she knows_.

Throughout the time that he had spent wandering the freezing streets of Chicago, as he tried like hell to keep from turning around and running straight back to his Peaches, Cullen had decided, above all else that, no matter _what_ happened between them, Bella _had_ to know how he felt.

It was all he had thought about, all he _could_ think about.

At that point, his love for her had become so great that he simply _had_ to tell her.

"What are you thinking about?" Bella asked as, once she had finished her own food and drink, she switched the main light off, leaving the room bathed in the soft, warm glow of the side lamp.

She crawled into bed next to him and he lifted his arm, needing her closer, kissing her damp hair when she laid her head on his chest.

Cullen sighed and allowed his eyes to close. "I'm thinking that...I was a fucking idiot to walk away from you." He rubbed his palm along her side, his fingers tracing the luscious curve of her hip and ribs. "And, I fucking promise, I'll_ never_ leave you again."

"I don't blame you for doing that, Edward," Bella whispered, her voice laced with sleep. "I know why you did it. I understand, because I would have done the exact same thing."

She pressed a kiss to his collarbone and drew invisible circles over his t-shirt with the tip of her finger.

"And if you walking away helped you realise that...you love me..." she continued in hushed tones. "Then I'm happy that you did."

Cullen opened his eyes slowly. Christ, he hadn't even realised that shit himself. But she was right. He'd walked away and broken into a thousand pieces. He'd been left exposed, with nothing to hide behind, and nothing to hide him from the fact that he was in love with her.

Insanely in love with her.

Realistically, Cullen couldn't refute that that shit had been fairly inevitable as - his reaction to finding out who Bella was notwithstanding – he was bound to break at some point. And, now that his finely executed punk ass demeanour had been thoroughly fucked, Cullen at last accepted just how exhausting it had been.

Pretending that he didn't give a shit, or putting his pounding heart and clenching stomach down to indigestion had been as tiring, as it had been ludicrous.

_No more_, he decided. _No more_.

"Are you awake?" he murmured when he felt Bella's breathing slow.

"Mmm," she replied sleepily, nuzzling further into him.

Cullen couldn't hold back his smile as he pulled her closer.

"Sweet dreams," he said softly as he reached for the lamp switch. "I love you."

=PoF=

The grey phone had been ringing for at least thirty seconds by the time he answered it with a grumble and a curse.

"Agent Biers speaking."

Silence.

"Hello. Agent Biers."

More silence.

Agent Biers frowned into the phone and wiped a frustrated hand down his weary face. He didn't have time for this bullshit. He had too much on his plate with two drug busts, a homicide, and that motherfucker Aro Bartollini to bring down. The last thing he needed was some prick with a case of the mutes.

"Hello?" he asked again, scanning the office carefully in search of any asshole who thought that breathing down his phone was fucking funny.

He slammed his teeth together and cleared his throat when the silence continued. "Look, whoever this is, I don't have time for-"

"It's me."

Agent Biers blinked; his federal, photographic mind racing through all the voices that he had ever heard, stopping immediately at the one that he had listened to only two days before. The Brooklyn drawl was obvious and, along with the tiredness that laced the two words spoken, Biers knew instantly whom he was speaking to.

Black.

_Holy shit._

"Jacob?" Biers whispered as he sat slowly into his uncomfortable, wooden chair, sneaking peeks around himself to see who was within earshot of his side of the conversation.

There was a sigh, "Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

There was a wry laugh and the sound of stubble rubbing against the phone. "Not really...No."

Biers nodded in understanding even though he knew Jacob couldn't see him. "I'm sorry to hear that."

And, weirdly, he really was.

Jacob snorted in derision anyway. "Sure."

"So," Biers continued, rounding his shoulders in an attempt to make the conversation more private. "What can I do for you?"

There was another moment of silence where Biers prayed like fuck that Jacob didn't put the phone down.

"Black?" he coaxed.

"I've been thinking about what you said the other day," Jacob said finally.

Biers licked his lips, "Yeah?"

"I've been thinking about a lot of shit these past couple of days thanks to you."

"I'm flattered," Biers retorted dryly. "Come to any conclusions?"

"Actually, I did," Jacob said firmly. "I know that you know about me and..._her_. I know that's why you came to me."

Biers smiled gently, "Yeah."

"And I know you know that if anything happened to her, because of you doing your federal crusader shit that I would not fucking hesitate in killing you."

Biers sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. Jacob's tone alone made it perfectly clear that he wasn't joking. For that, Biers was more than thankful. If anything happened to Nessie _or_ her son because of his plan, he would _want_ Jacob to finish him off. It would be easier than living with the devastating hurt and guilt that would no doubt consume him should he lose the one person that he had left.

The one person that meant something to him.

"Yeah," he replied. "I know."

"Good."

"So, what does this mean, Black?" Biers said, trying like hell to keep the hope from his voice.

"What does it mean?" Black repeated.

Biers swallowed, "Yeah."

Jacob took a deep breath. "It means, Agent Biers...that I'm in."

=PoF=

Isabella kicked the quilt from off her feet quickly and tried to move Cullen's arm that was holding her around the waist like a damned vice. She was sweltering and, as nice as having Cullen's body pressed against her was, she had to move to cool down.

She tried again to loosen his grip by pulling gently on his forearm, but the opposite seemed to happen. He held on tighter.

"W'ya doin'?" he mumbled into her hair as he pushed his crotch into her ass.

"I'm too hot, baby," Isabella answered breathlessly. "Can you let me go a minute?"

Cullen sighed against her neck and did as she asked, rolling sleepily onto his back. His hair was damp with sweat and stuck, in curls, to his forehead. Isabella immediately moved out of the bed, pulling her t-shirt off and heading to the thermostat, turning that shit down from hot ass sauna to just warm enough thank you very much

Once she had turned the lamp back on, she hightailed it to the bathroom where she splashed some cold water onto her face and pulled off her sweats, changing them to a small pair of sleeping shorts. Along with just her bra, Isabella's skin immediately began to cool down. With a glass of water in hand, she wandered back into the bedroom to find Cullen, still on his back, wearing only his boxer briefs. She smiled at the fact that he had kicked the quilt off too.

His body looked to be almost sparkling in the delicate light, and his hard stomach lifted and dropped hypnotically as he breathed.

He was a vision.

So beautiful. So strong but so fragile. Masculine but impossible sensitive. Hard around the edges but terrified within them.

He was _her_ Edward, her Cullen, her punk assed convict, and nothing and no one could change that.

"It's rude to stare," he mumbled as he cracked an eye open and rubbed his palm down the centre of his glistening chest. The movement, and the way in which her body reacted with heat and pulses mesmerized Isabella.

"Sorry," she breathed, as she placed her glass down and crawled back onto the still warm sheets. "But you looked...so peaceful."

"I was," he replied bringing his hand back up his body. "I am."

Isabella smiled and, bending her elbow, leaned her head on her hand as she looked down at him. With his eyes still closed, he turned his face towards her, smiling lazily when she trailed her fingertips through the front of his hair.

"You feel better?" she asked softly. He nodded. "How's your heart?"

Slowly he opened his eyes, focusing on her immediately. He reached for her hand and placed it on the left side of his chest.

"You tell me," he said softly, searching her face with his deep green eyes.

Isabella bit her lip gently, as she felt his heart thump like a bass drum under her palm.

"It's pounding," she whispered.

"It always does when you're near me, Peaches."

Isabella felt her cheeks warm. "Mine too," she confessed. "Here."

She took his right wrist then and did the same, placing his large hand over the top of her left breast. The heat that came from his skin was unbelievable and, paradoxically, brought goose flesh up all over Isabella's body. Her lungs suddenly felt minute. Unhurriedly, Cullen lifted onto his left elbow, watching his hand and her face with childlike wonder.

"It's flying," he said with a gentle smile.

"It always does when you're near me, Cullen," Isabella said lightly.

His gaze travelled from his hand, leisurely up the curve of her neck, stopping momentarily, hungrily, at her lips, before it rested resolutely on her eyes. His silence made the hair on the back of Isabella's neck lift and tingle, while the air around them began to thicken and buzz with anticipation.

Cullen's pupils grew impossibly large as he let the tips of his fingers dance lightly along the lace edge of Isabella's bra. Her chest heaved embarrassingly at the sensation of his touch and her eyes closed of their own volition, seemingly unable to handle the sensuality of the moment. With feather like touches that never left her skin, Cullen moved his hand over to her right breast, tracing the curves of her chest, while purposefully missing the places Isabella was suddenly desperate for him to touch.

His fingers fluttered and caressed so lightly that the roughness of his skin was unnoticeable. Shifting his body closer to hers, Cullen began to draw languid figures of eight up towards her collarbone, mapping the shape of her delicate bones and pressing gently against the pulse points in the valley of her throat. It was such a simple thing, for him to touch her that way, but Isabella was unable to hold back the soft whimper that had been slowly building with every brush of his large, gentle hand.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured as his index finger dropped from her throat and meandered knowingly, erotically, down between her breasts, over the fabric of her bra to the soft skin of her stomach.

Isabella held her breath when he reached her belly button. He circled it twice before his finger dipped into it teasingly.

Unable to hold her head up any longer, Isabella lay back against the pillows, giving herself over to her senses, as Cullen continued his wonderful exploration of her more than willing body.

"Your skin is so soft here," he mused as his hand skimmed the waistband of her shorts, "_So_ soft."

Isabella gasped when she felt his lips press tenderly onto the same spot. Her hands found his hair and buried themselves, unashamedly, within it. She purred and gripped it between her fingers when Cullen's tongue licked along the trail that his finger had just taken.

"You taste so good," he whispered when he reached her sternum, "_Peaches_."

"Edward," she moaned as her thighs clenched together.

"What is it, baby?" he asked quietly, moving gradually so that his body was leaning over hers.

Isabella's hands moved from his hair, finding his broad shoulders that flexed powerfully under her palms. His chest touched hers lightly and his free hand cupped the side of her face.

"I miss your lips," she murmured as she opened her eyes. God, he was breathtaking above her. She leaned into his touch as his thumb skimmed her jaw.

"You do?" he asked as his stare burned across her mouth.

He groaned softly and wound his hips impatiently against her thigh when her tongue darted out to wet them.

"Do you want me to kiss you, Bella?" His voice was low, hoarse, and dripped with sex and a yearning that was palpable.

"_Please_."

The word left Isabella's lips as a wanton whisper. She could feel the frantic need for him bubbling below the surface of her skin, knowing that the inevitable eruption of passion that was always so present when she was with him was only one touch away. Fuck, she just needed to feel him again, a kiss, a caress, _anything_.

Cullen leaned down, placing his forehead against hers. His breath was hot across Isabella's cheek and smelled of smoke, toast, and sleep. She breathed it in with large gulps.

"Tell me what you want, Bella," he said gruffly. "I swear to God, I'll give you anything."

"Kiss me," she pleaded. "Just kiss me, Edward."

Cullen felt a shiver run up his spine at her words.

_A kiss_.

That was all she wanted. Her mouth, pink, wet, and soft, entranced him. He swallowed. They'd kissed a million times, in a million different ways, in a million different places, but the request seemed so fucking huge that, for a split second, he could do nothing but stare down at her.

It felt like years since he had last had the pleasure of her kisses or the taste of her tongue. A divine image of her mouth around his dick immediately flashed before him, simultaneously drying his throat and weighting his body down to hers in seconds.

Skin to skin, flush, and warm.

As subtle as it was, he could feel her small body writhing underneath him. Her legs shifted against the mattress and her hips continually lifted towards his with every breath that she exhaled. She was exquisite.

"Edward, please," she begged, pulling on the back of his neck and flicking her tongue out to taste him. "Kiss me."

"Dammit, Bella," he groaned as he opened his mouth to hers, gasping into her as she did the same. He could feel his entire body shake as he pressed his lips to hers as patiently as he could, and groaned loudly when she pulled him down, deepening it quickly.

_Holy fuck._

Her taste.

He'd almost forgotten.

Sweet peach, cream, and berries.

Delicious.

Their tongues met, reunited, touching, tasting and rubbing together, inside her mouth, then inside his. They sucked, licked, curled, and tangled, fusing between them in the warm air of the hotel suite. Cullen gripped her waist with one hand and her face with the other as their passion began to snap and sizzle.

Sweet Jesus, his skin was on fire, and the heavy ache that was pounding between his legs was fucking torturous. He doubted his cock had ever been so damned stiff. Christ, it wept for her. He pushed it against Bella's hip to show her what she did to him.

Not that she would ever understand. _Ever._ She had no comprehension at all of the control she had over him, his body...his heart.

"Fuck," she breathed when he did it again. "You're so hard."

Cullen didn't answer her, and instead moved his mouth from her lips to her jaw, and down her neck. She bent backwards, curving under him so that he could access any place he wanted on her gorgeous body.

He began with her chest, pulling the straps of her bra down the tops of her arms so that he could pull at the cups, releasing her to his eager hands and demanding mouth. With his eyes closed and a loud grunt in his ears, Cullen began to lick, suck, and tease her right nipple, hollowing out his cheeks so that he could get as much of her in his mouth as was possible. He moaned when he felt her hands on him, in his hair, scratching his back, pulling him closer while whispering her need for him.

_I know, baby. I know._

As his mouth travelled further down, Bella sat up and unclasped her bra. She threw it across the room, and landed back onto the pillows with a pleasured sigh. Cullen let his lips caress her hip, the soft flesh of her belly, all the way to her panty line that was peeking temptingly from beneath her shorts.

His cock twitched painfully.

Fuck, he wanted her on his tongue. He wanted to feel her hot clit in his mouth and make her come so hard she'd see stars. He wanted to devour her, bury his entire face in that shit, and never come out for days. He wanted her gasping and soaked. He wanted-

"I missed you," Bella breathed.

Cullen paused and slowly looked up. Seeing the pained expression on her face immediately took his breath away, and he found himself resting his chin heavily against her hip.

"I'm sorry," she added timidly, taking in the devastation that was no doubt clear in his eyes. "But I had to tell you that I missed you while you were gone." Her bottom lip shook. "I missed you so much, Edward."

Cullen felt his heart fracture. What a fucking idiot he had been. He should never have left. He should _never_ have fucking left. Soundlessly, keeping his eyes on hers, he crawled back up the length of her and kissed her soundly, hardly noticing that he was now between her legs with her thighs holding him tightly, securely.

Tighter and tighter, she squeezed, but he welcomed the way she gripped him.

He never wanted her to let him go again.

"I missed _you_," he admitted shakily, while brushing the stray hair that lay on her cheek. "And I'm sorry I ever thought I could...be without you." He shook his head slowly. "I was a fucking moron, Bella. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry too," she whimpered, pulling him down to kiss her again. "I love you."

"_God_."

"I love you so much."

"I know."

"I want you so much."

"I want you too, Sweetheart."

"Need you."

"Fuck, yes."

"Make love to me, Edward."

Cullen froze instantly.

_What the motherfuck?_

His jaw fell slack against her left breast and his brain began firing in a thousand different directions. Panic and confusion began to overwhelm him.

_Make love?_

She wanted him to _make love_ to her. Jesus, he didn't even know what that _meant_. He'd never _made love_ to anyone before. Ever.

How the hell would he know that he was doing it right?

He felt his cheeks heat with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance, and shifted nervously, placing his palms on the mattress at either side of Bella's neck. She looked at him curiously, lovingly.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she touched his chest lightly.

Where to fucking start?

He blew a long, slow breath from between his lips, gazing intently at the pillow beneath her head. Of course, Cullen knew sex. Fuck sake's he'd had enough of it over the years. And he knew fucking. That shit he could do blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back.

In fact, he had. Many times.

But making love was a different animal altogether. His ass was only just getting used to appreciating the _emotion_ of love, there was no way in hell he could comprehend how to _make_ love too.

"Cullen?"

He blinked and nibbled on the inside of his mouth in bewilderment, as shame and discomfort trickled down his spine.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Bella said firmly. "You're scaring me."

That got his attention. His stare snapped straight to Bella's and he tried to smile apologetically. However, he was sure it came off as a terrified grimace.

"Talk to me," she urged with her hands cupping his neck. "What are you looking so worried about?"

Cullen dropped his chin to his chest, unable to look at her while he tried to organise his words into a respectable order.

"Bella, I..." he exhaled. "I don't..." Still nothing. He clenched his eyes shut. "I've got...fuck, I don't know how."

Bella frowned gently in puzzlement. "You don't know how to what?"

His shoulders dropped in defeat. "I don't know how to...make love to you. I'm...fuck, I'm a prick. I'm sorry."

Without waiting for a response and feeling like a complete fucking failure, Cullen lifted from her, dropped onto the bed, and rolled onto his back at Bella's side. He threw his arm over his face and grumbled a few more expletives into his skin for good measure.

What a goddamn joke. He couldn't even make love to the woman that he _loved_.

Never had Cullen been so clueless about intimacy, and never had he felt so damned humiliated. Fuck's sake he was a disgrace.

He felt Bella move at his side, but refused to look at her for fear of seeing the disappointment on her beautiful face. His anger at himself became more acute the more he thought about his newfound inadequacy, making his brain throb with the beginnings of an epic headache.

He gritted his teeth when he felt Bella's palm touch his thigh, and inhaled deeply when it began to move in soothing circles. Great, her pity was _just_ what he needed. He shifted slightly, moving away from her, and scrunched his eyes shut when he felt her move in the opposite direction. He heard her small feet pad across the carpet and then there was silence.

Christ, what a fucking asshole he was.

"Edward."

Cullen sighed. He tried to ignore the tingling that set his spine on fire every time she said his first name, but that shit was too fucking powerful.

"Edward, _look_ at me."

With a deep inhale that made his nostrils flare, Cullen dropped his arm in defeat against the mattress and turned to the direction of her voice to find-

_Sweet mother of God._

Bella was standing at the side of the bed, hands on her hips, naked as the day she was born, looking down at him with a look on her face that was neither disappointed nor angry. She looked lustful, wanting, and strong. Goddamn it, she was flawless.

Cullen had seen Bella naked so many times, but each time was just like the first.

As his eyes travelled hungrily over her, his blood thundered through his veins, his cock thickened, desperate for her, desperate to be inside of her, and his heart skipped several beats before it began to race like a fucking NASCAR.

"Bella," he breathed, reaching for her.

His chest shook on its foundations when she moved from his grasp.

"Do you love me?" she asked gently with no hint of playing or teasing.

"What?"

"Do you love me?"

Cullen sighed and nodded. "You know I do, Bella. You're everything to me."

She smiled knowingly. "Then show me."

Cullen blinked in confusion and scoured her face for answers. He remained silent, tongue-tied once again, before Bella reached for his hand and placed his palm flat against her stomach.

"Show me," she whispered, "Like you've done before. Show me how much you love me."

Realisation hit Cullen like a thunderbolt. _Like you've done before._ Of course. His brain immediately flashed back through all the times that they had come together, thinking about the ways in which he had touched her, kissed her, moved inside of her.

Halloween. The day that he'd first put his mouth on her and when his fingers had first slipped inside of her. At the beach house. The morning that she had let him mark her sublime body.

The first time they were ever together, soaked from the rain, desperate, on his bed.

His heart stammered. Fuck, he'd loved her so much even then.

Jesus, without even knowing it, he had made love to her, shown what she meant to him by using his body instead of his shitty, inadequate words. On occasions when the feeling of having his own body inside of hers had been so overwhelming and he had been unable to find his rhythm through the thick clouds of need, he had simply breathed her in, kissed her languidly, or touched her in places he knew made her moan his name.

Those had been his favourite moments with her.

Connected together but not moving. No frenzy. Just...being. Those were the moments Cullen was most at peace.

He looked back up at Bella to see her expression soften and shine. She knew. He smiled.

"Come here," he murmured, while holding out his hand. "Let me make love to you, Peaches."

Bella's face lightened to the colour of Italian blush wine, but she didn't look surprised. Cullen smirked. She knew him better than he knew himself.

She reached out to him and placed her palm in his, and the electricity - the flicker of energy that was always between them - surged from his body, to hers, and back again. Cullen pulled her to him gently until she was kneeling on the bed before him, stunning and expectant.

He cupped her face, brushing her hair back and leaned in to kiss her. He was gentle, allowing his mouth to press into hers only a little, while his tongue whispered across her lips, tender and loving.

_You're beautiful_, his kiss said. _You're everything_.

The moan that came from Bella's throat told him that she heard it, felt it.

"Lie down, baby," he said as he placed his hand on the back of her neck and helped her down onto the sheets. She was incredible in her submissiveness. Her obedience and her willingness to please him made his head light.

Pulling off his boxer briefs, he moved over her, resting between her feet, and kissed her again.

_You're perfect_.

He moved down her chin, kissing her throat and licking her chest.

_You're all my dreams come true._

He nibbled and grazed his teeth across her stomach.

_You're magic._

His hands slid up her thighs and opened them slowly, gradually.

_I've wanted you forever._

He saw her hands fisting the bed and lay small kisses from one hip to the other.

_I love that you want _me_ so much._

Bella bent her knees, as his hands caressed the crease where her thighs met her body, and opened them further, beckoning Cullen forward, her bare skin aching for his mouth. He kissed the top of her cleft, noticing the sparkle of the wetness that lay there.

_You're incredible to me._

Bella sighed and ran her hands through his hair. He looked up at her and smiled, seeing that she was holding her breath.

_You take _my_ breath away._

"I'll start by making love to you with my mouth," he breathed, smelling her clean soap, peach scent. "My tongue's missed you, baby."

Gently, pushing her lips back with his mouth, he let his tongue seek out her hot, swollen clit, and began winding it in slow circles that made her eyes roll back and her spine arch.

"_Oh_, God."

_You're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted_.

His fingers moved to her pussy and slipped easily along her sodden skin, teasing her and asking for more with every dip, twist, and stroke of his fingertips.

_I adore you._

"Edward."

_I love it when you say my name._

Bit by bit, Cullen pushed two long fingers inside her and hummed into her pussy when she groaned and swivelled her hips against his face. She was so fucking warm.

_You astound me._

He pulled them out and pushed them back in repeatedly, while he sucked and licked her perfect clit.

_I'll never hurt you again_.

"More."

_I'd give you the fucking world._

He pushed his face further into her, lifting her calves onto his shoulders, and hummed and groaned against her flesh, grunting hard when her nails scratched deeply across his scalp.

_I'm yours to mark_.

His tongue moved faster and his fingers slid deeper, as the sounds that Cullen would know in the dark, started to erupt from her, breathless and begging_._

_I'd do this for the rest of my life, if it meant you would be mine._

"You're going...to,_ fuck_...Make me come, baby."

_I live to hear and see you come, Bella._

She pulled his hair, tugging and pushing as her hips thrust against him, drenching his chin. She whimpered and called out for him, nonsensical words pouring from her mouth as her orgasm snapped and shook through her body. Cullen gripped her thighs as they slammed shut around his head and devoured everything that she gave him until she was begging him to stop.

_I can't stop. I want this always_.

Eventually, Cullen lifted his head and gazed up at her, smirking at the glow that washed across her gossamer skin, and the way in which her chest heaved heavy, spent breaths.

"You okay?" he asked as he wiped his hand across his mouth.

"Mmhm," she replied with a wry grin that made Cullen chuckle.

_You make me feel weightless._

He prowled up her body, lathering her skin with kisses, needing the warmth to keep him grounded. He knew that he had to be gentle, tender. He knew he had to show her that he _could_ make love to her. He could feel the fog of lust starting to descend around him, hot, frantic, and hard, but breathed through it.

Fucking would come later. Goddamn, he would fuck her so good.

Right then, his chest against hers, her hands gripping his shoulders, and her small thighs around his waist were enough to anchor him.

"I need you," he groaned into her mouth as she kissed him, tasting herself on his lips. He rested his hands on the bed next to her ribs with his cock lying trapped between them, wanting and thick.

_Feel what you do to me, baby_.

Every time that Bella moved, she rubbed its entire length, driving him insane, making his hips shift and rotate to get closer.

"Please," he grunted when she bit his neck. "_Please_ let me be inside you. Fuck, Bella, I need to feel you."

_You'll never understand how much I need you. Sometimes it scares me to death._

"Yes," she gasped as she lifted her legs and placed her heels on his ass. "I need you too."

They both grabbed at his cock, desperation slipping through. Cullen let go first and watched as Bella guided him to her, rubbing the tip of him along her wet flesh.

"Feel what you do," she whispered, as she did it again.

He moaned and furrowed his brow as he watched enraptured. Their most intimate parts coming together that way, made Cullen's bones feel spongy. She was soaked and so soft, but Cullen couldn't help but push his hips a little closer, a little harder.

He watched Bella's face when she wound his cock around her clit and moaned with her when she did it again, several times.

_You own me. I'm yours._

Cullen pulled her face to his and kissed her with all that he had, tasting her mouth and tongue, and nibbling on her plump bottom lip.

_You make me want to be good._

"Ah," he groaned when Bella's hand pushed his dick in such a way that - for one incredible moment - he slipped inside of her. The brief feeling of euphoria that came from their union blazed up his back and sent his hips into a goddamn frenzy.

"Please," he begged against Bella's neck as she continued to drive him insane. "Let me in. Let me make love to you."

_Let me show you that I'm good enough._

"God, Edward," she groaned as she placed him right where he wanted and needed to be. "God, I want you so much."

"I'm here, sweet girl," he whispered across her throat as he slowly began to push into her tight warmth. "I'm here. That's it." A little further. "_Oh_, fuck."

He lifted his head and looked deeply into her eyes as he pushed, little by little, until he was completely enveloped by her heated flesh.

_You're home to me_.

A small whimper escaped her, but Cullen caught it between his lips that he pressed gently against hers. The urge to thrust deep and hard clawed at the base of his spine, and his knees moved upwards, pushing her thighs wider apart so that he could get further inside.

"Breathe," Bella said softly against his cheek, clearly feeling the tension that pulsed through him. "Breathe and show me."

Cullen swallowed as their fingers entwined by the sides of her head, fascinated by the fact that her small hands fit inside his perfectly, and groaned when she lifted her hips up taking even more of him in.

_I'm lost without you_.

Gradually, Cullen pulled back, releasing a long groan of breath as he did. He chanced a look down to where they joined and panted at the sight of her all over his length, glistening and beautiful.

"Jesus," he gasped, as he slid back in. Hot. Tight. "_Jesus_."

"Oh," Bella moaned when their hips met again. She squeezed his hands and kissed his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. "You feel so good, baby."

_You're fucking perfect beneath me._

Cullen rotated his hips and disappeared into her again and again, swallowing her gasps and giving her his own, as their foreheads fused together and he lost himself in her heavy lidded eyes. She smiled up at him and kissed the corner of his open mouth, which let out a grunt when she shifted her legs tighter around his waist. He continued to move, slow but firm, tilting his pelvis so he reached the spot inside of her that made her breath catch.

Her fingers gripped his when he found it. "_Oh_."

"Yeah?" he asked breathlessly.

She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and nodded. With her hair spilled out on the pillow beneath her head, she was glorious.

_You're the most precious thing in my life_.

Cullen could feel a small tightening begin deep in the depths of his stomach when she asked, "Can you feel it?"

For one moment, Cullen was utterly confused by her question. He could feel _her_. He could feel her heat, her slick, sublime pussy, and her soft body under his. He could feel the heels of her feet pressing him in further and her hands in his, gripping and squeezing whenever he moved just the way she wanted. He could feel the urge to fuck burn in his thighs and the sensation in his balls that told him he was on his way to the mother of all orgasms.

But, something in the back of his mind told him that that wasn't what she meant.

"Can you _feel_ it?" she repeated softly with a whispered moan, as she released his right hand and slipped her left behind his neck, knotting her fingers in his hair.

Cullen gave a sharp thrust and gripped her hip harder than he probably should have. He groaned when she pulled his hair and licked his jaw, nibbling on his Adam's apple in reply.

"Bella, I...I..."

_I need you. I need you so much it hurts._

But, before he could answer her, Bella had wrapped her left leg around his thigh and was pushing on his chest with a strength he didn't know she was capable of until, after they had rolled over, she was sitting on top of him, dominant and transcendent.

"Holy shit," Cullen muttered, dazed, as she looked down at him with determination in her gaze.

She smiled gently and gyrated languidly, sending Cullen's eyeballs rolling into the back of his skull.

"Can you feel it?"

Cullen gasped and clutched at her thighs and hips, desperate to pump upwards, to get deeper, harder, and faster.

"Shhh," she soothed as she took his hand and kissed his palm, "Just feel, baby. Let me make love to _you_."

"Fuck, Bella," Cullen replied through lips that barely moved, "Move. Please, for the love of God, move."

"Come here," she purred making Cullen open his eyes.

_I'll go anywhere with you._

She pulled gently on his arm, asking silently for him to sit up, which he did, very slowly, and with a deep groan. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her shoulders and pulling her down onto him, anchoring her body to his. He growled into her chest and kissed up to her throat and neck that elongated as her head dropped backwards. Her beautiful hair tickled his thighs and sent shots of need through every inch of him.

_While I was away from you, I ached. I'm a wreck without you._

She held him close, arms around shoulders, hands in hair, holding tight. Never had Cullen felt so close to his Bella. There was no part that wasn't touching. He was inside of her, but _she_ was all around him. He felt consumed by her, at her mercy, defeated, but entirely victorious. But, above all that, above his need to come and his slow descent into euphoric bliss, Cullen felt totally and unequivocally loved.

His heart kicked in his chest, strong and sure. The sensation wrapped around him in the same way Bella was, warm, and safe, and it crushed him in ways that were entirely fantastic and impossible to describe.

"Oh God," he whimpered into her neck as she moved.

He sucked in a deep breath, "Oh _God_."

"Can you feel it?" Bella murmured as she kissed his temple, and lifted and dropped onto him at an agonisingly slow pace.

Her hands on him set him alight and his mouth was suddenly frantic to taste her again. He devoured the skin on her chest, her shoulders, and her face, and felt his grip on her waist increase with every kiss, nibble, and bite.

_I could drown in this feeling, but I know you'd save me._

"Bella," he grunted as their lovemaking began to turn into something incomprehensible. "Fuck, I can feel it."

"Me too," she replied with a sigh as their bodies began to move in absolute unison, "Oh, Edward."

"It's...fuck, you're so fucking good, Bella." Cullen lifted his head and pleaded to her with everything he had. "Don't stop._ Please_. Don't stop."

"Never," she answered, as she grabbed his face and kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth, while her entire body moved up and down his, drawing him closer and closer to the edge of his orgasm.

Jesus _fucking_ Christ, he needed to come.

As the tightening in the lower half of his body continued to swell to an excruciating degree, Cullen realised that with every move of Bella's hips and every answering thrust of his, they were finally expressing how much they loved one another. It was the weirdest, most incredible thing, but he knew it with every gasp, moan, pull, and push.

In fact, they were not just making love.

No. It was so much fucking more than that.

It was erotic, passionate, naked, soul bearing that, six months ago, would have scared Cullen to death.

But not now.

Not with his woman in his arms. With Bella with him, he could take over the fucking world.

He drove up into her, swallowing the moan that dropped from her lips.

_Mine._

Never had Cullen felt so exposed but so safe.

She swivelled her hips and crashed down heavily onto him.

_Yours._

Never had he given himself to someone so freely and expected nothing in return.

_My heart beats for you._

Never had he loved anyone the way that he loved Isabella Swan.

_Peaches._

He grabbed her waist with one hand and cupped her face with the other as he began to thrust deeper.

_Again. Shit. Again. Goddamn it._

"Gonna come," he panted against her cheek. "Fuck. _Fuck_."

"Please," she replied pulling him closer, knotting her arms around his neck. "Come for me. Come inside me, Edward."

"_Ah_," he cried out as his cock throbbed at her words and actions.

His body lifted.

He lifted higher and higher, and pushed harder and harder, gritting his teeth and making sounds that were entirely alien to him.

_I can't get close enough to you._

"Bella," he called out as he felt himself being pulled under. "I..._Ah_, I..."

He held on tighter.

"I know, baby," she gasped into his hair. "I know. Jesus, you feel _so_ good inside of me."

"Bell-..."

"Making love to me."

"BELLA!"

Cullen's neck snapped back as he bellowed and cursed towards the ceiling of the hotel suite. His cock exploded with blinding force, as his orgasm ricocheted through him - leaving flashes of white behind his eyes and thundering in his ears - pulsing, hot and relentlessly hard, into her exquisite body.

"Oh, God," he groaned into her shoulder as his entire body throbbed, writhed, and twitched. "Oh God, I love you."

"I love you too," she answered with a smile as she gradually stilled and sank down so that their bodies were once again flush together. He loved having her so close. It made his skin erupt into goose bumps.

He breathed easier. He felt free. He felt…_good_. Could he dare to believe that he was good enough?

Cullen clenched his eyes shut, fighting back the salt water that threatened to fall, overwhelmed once again by the tiny creature in his arms, overwhelmed by what he had just shared with her, hat they had shared together.

He kissed her collarbone and breathed through it. "Fuck, I...I love you so much, Bella."

_And I'll never stop._

"Tell me that you know," he whimpered, trying like hell to clear the thickness from the back of his throat. "Tell me I was good enough."

"What?" Bella asked in soft bemusement. "What are you talking about?"

Cullen let his eyes meet hers, knowing that she would see the tears of helplessness and fear that plagued the darkest depths of his soul.

"Was I good enough? _Am_ I good enough?"

Bella sighed sadly and shook her head minutely. When her palms touched his cheeks, Cullen's eyes closed and the tears fell.

"Edward Cullen," she breathed. "I swear on everything that I hold dear that you are the most wonderful, sensitive, passionate, beautiful, loving man that I have ever known."

Cullen swallowed and looked back at her as her voice wavered. When he saw the expression of adoration on her face, he knew that she meant every word.

"I love you with all that I am, and I will _always_ love you that way." She kissed him so gently Cullen almost missed it. "You _are_ good. You are good _enough_. Sweetheart, you are so much better than you know. And if I have to spend the rest of my life telling you that...then I will."

Cullen's body shivered as he buried his face under her jaw and pulled her down to the bed with him, removing his sated cock from her warmth, and cocooning himself within her arms and legs.

_I'm good enough. Fuck it. I _am_ good enough for her. I can be. I _will_ be._

"Thank you," he whispered after a couple of moments silence where the only sound was that of Bella's heart beat echoing in his ear.

"What for?" she asked drowsily as she ran her fingers through her hair.

"For everything," he replied quietly, "For forgiving me. For trusting me. For loving me…I know…shit, I don't deserve any of it, Peaches. But…" He sighed and held her close. "Thank you."

_You will never know how grateful I am to have you in my life._

"Well," Bella murmured by his forehead. "I guess that makes us even."

Cullen smiled and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "I guess it does."

But, as he said the words, he knew that they weren't true. There was still so much that he had to do before they could truly be _together_, truly be at peace. As fucking hard as his time away from Bella had been, Cullen had had a lot of time to consider his options, and the one option that was simply impossible to comprehend was the one that saw them separated permanently.

He exhaled despondently. Fuck, he was a selfish prick, but there was just no way.

He _would_ not, _could_ not walk away. He'd tried and it had shattered him. He was in love with her and that, for him, changed things irrevocably.

She was his heart, his Peaches, his everything. He was made to be with her and vice versa.

Which left only one option.

"Bella," he whispered. He lifted his head and gently brushed her hair from her sleeping face, "_Peaches_."

"Mmm."

He drew an invisible circle, under her lashes and across the pink apple of her cheek, as he considered his next words.

"We have to do something…something…_really_ important before we fly back to New York tomorrow. Sweetheart, _I_ have to do something."

She snuggled into him, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Cullen replied before he cleared his throat. "I need…I need to see your mom."

**Holy Renee's gonna shit Frisbees, Batman!**

**Apologies again for the delay, but I hope the lemon was worth it? **

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**TTFN xxx**


	40. Chapter 40

**Hello all.**

**Sorry for the delay with this chapter, but RL has been pretty busy. Thank you for your patience, love, and support as always.**

**Unfortunately, this may be the last chapter for a while. ****I am off to the States for six weeks over the Summer, but I will do my best to update if and when I can. Nevertheless, normal writing will resume as soon as I'm back.**

**So PLEASE don't panic. I have never, and **_**will**_** never abandon any of my fics.**

**Thanks to all the PAW Princesses on Twitter, to the girls on the Twilighted thread, and the ladies on Facebook. You make writing this an absolute pleasure.**

**Thank you to everyone who voted for PoF at the Avante Garde Awards. It won the Hall of Fame Award. You're all amazing.**

**This chapter was really hard to write in parts, which is why I am putting a small warning here.**

**Some parts of this may be upsetting for some, and for that, I apologize.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter songs:** _Hero ~ Enrique Iglesias, What Hurts the Most ~ Rascal Flats, I'll See You Again ~ Westlife._

**Chapter 39: A Common Ground**

"_Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. Love still stands when all else has fallen." __**Unknown.**_

_**16 years ago...**_

_Renee Swan sat down on the edge of the luxurious, hotel bed with a black phone resting between her cheek and shoulder. She moved the curling wire that came out of the bottom of the blasted thing so that it wound around her elbow, as she adjusted her skirt._

"_And is Isabella alright?" she asked softly._

"_Of course she's alright," answered the strong, deep voice at the other end of the call. The sound of it immediately sent warmth careening around Renee's body. "She's with her daddy."_

_Renee smiled as she slipped her right foot into her black pump. "Yeah," she sighed. "I just miss you both so much."_

"_I know," Charlie replied. "We miss you too, Beautiful. __We're going to Central Park today. __She's so excited." _

_Renee closed her eyes, imagining her beautiful, dark haired angel climbing all over the Alice in Wonderland statue that she loved so much._

"_I wish I could come with you. Can I speak to her?" She asked excitedly._

_Charlie chuckled. "You tired of talking to me already? I'm wounded."_

_Renee laughed lightly and rolled her eyes. "I am in no way tired of speaking to you, Senator. I would just like to speak to our daughter."_

_Charlie made a sound in his throat that caused Renee's stomach to flutter and her throat to dry._

"_Please, don't call me Senator in _that_ tone," Charlie grumbled, "Especially when I'm not with you." _

_Renee laughed louder and felt her cheeks heat up as memories of their most recent night together flashed through her mind's eye._

_Adoring__. __Soft. Hard. Gasps. Moans. Panted declarations of love._

_Jesus, he had always had such control over her body. From the very first moment she laid eyes on her husband, every part of her had gravitated towards him. Renee had learned quickly, despite the arguments and hurt that it had caused with her stubborn, narrow-minded father, fighting the fire that burned hot and passionate between her and Charles Swan was futile. _

"_I'm sorry," she murmured with a smirk._

"_No, you're not," Charlie chided lightly."I can hear you smiling."_

_His words made Renee smile wider._

"_I miss your smile," Charlie added quietly. "It seems like a fucking age since I saw it."_

_His curse didn't surprise Renee. They tended to slip through when he was stressed or frustrated, which their separation for the past week had clearly caused. She didn't mind it, however. His sharp mouth and his habit of using the word 'fuck' like a comma, was one of the things that had made her fall so damned hard for him in the first place._

_At college, he had been a free spirit, wildly intelligent, and unafraid of offending anyone with his blunt tongue and his opinions. People whispered and made comment about his murky past, but he hadn't given a shit. He simply shrugged it off, smoked a cigarette, and went on his way. For Renee, he was a breath of fresh air and a much-welcomed change from the snotty-nosed prigs that made up the majority of her father's political circle. _

_He had captivated her._

_He_ still_ captivated her._

"_I love you," she whispered fervently. "I love you so much, Charlie."_

"_I love you too, Beautiful," he replied. "More than you know. I always have. I always will."_

_Renee bit her lip and fought back the unexpected tears that suddenly tingled at the back of her eyes. Tiredness, she thought quickly. She always became teary when she was running on a small amount of sleep. It was seven-thirty in the morning. She had been up since six for a briefing with her assistant, Amy, followed by a breakfast of melon and a cup of coffee. She'd showered, answered emails, listened to voicemails, and that was all on five hours of shut-eye._

_It had been an emotional week; talking to young women about the premature passing of her elder sister, to breast cancer ten years before. Bringing awareness of the disease was exceedingly important to Renee and her tour around college campuses gave her the opportunity to do just that. It was just unfair that she had to be apart from her husband and daughter while she did it._

"_Is that Mommy?" Isabella's small, eager voice called from the background. Renee's whole body swelled with love and pride at the sound._

"_It is," Charlie answered excitedly. "You want to talk to her?"_

"_Uh huh!"_

"_Okay, Honey, here ya go," he said, before adding gently. "Love you, Beautiful."_

"_Love you," Renee answered._

=PoF=

Cullen watched hopelessly as Bella tried to suppress a giant yawn. Unsuccessfully. She looked completely washed out, exhausted, and pissed, and it was no thanks to him and his huge fucking mouth.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, dipping his chin so that he could catch her eye.

"Yeah," she replied with a slow nod of her head before she lifted the coffee cup to her lips.

Cullen exhaled and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was tired too, but he knew when she was lying her ass off. She wasn't okay, not at all, and it was all his fault.

"Look, Bella," he said as his hand dropped to his knee. "I'm sorry that you don't think that this is a good idea. I know you think that I'm fucking insane, and you're probably right, but believe me, I _have_ to do this. It'll be fine."

The cocked eyebrow that she shot in his direction made him swallow hard. They'd been having the same heated discussion for almost three hours, and Cullen was still not making any headway.

"You don't know my mother, Cullen," Bella murmured as she closed her eyes. "It _won't_ be fine. She'll...she won't listen to reason. She's too fucking stubborn."

"I'll make her listen to me," Cullen said firmly. "She won't have a choice."

Bella let out a breath of sardonic laughter that sent a ripple of annoyance up Cullen's back. He scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the fact that he looked like a petulant child as he threw himself back into his seat.

How couldn't she see why he wanted to see Renee? Did she not understand that he needed to do it? Did she not understand that he was doing it for her as much as he was doing it for himself?

"You don't trust me," he muttered with his chin towards his chest. "I can't fucking believe you. After _everything_," he snapped. "Why don't you fucking _trust_ me on this?"

"It's not that I don't trust _you_," Bella countered angrily. "I trust you with my life. It's _her_ I don't trust."

"What?" Cullen asked incredulously.

Bella shook her head at his lack of understanding. "She is venomous when she starts, Cullen! She says things. She could say things to you that are..." Bella dropped her eyes to the floor and licked her lips in contemplation.

"If she were to say something that hurt you," she continued with terror in her voice. "Or made you doubt me...us, again...I wouldn't...I can't..."

Cullen's asshole attitude dropped the instant he saw a large tear fall down her cheek. _Shit_.

Slowly, as Bella's tears started to fall heavier, he sat forward on his leather chair, dropped to his knees, and crawled on them across the carpet to where she was sitting on the sofa. Gingerly, he placed his hand on her legs, and began moving them in small soothing circles.

"Hey," he whispered when his fingers finally found hers, buried in the ends of her hoodie sleeves. He squeezed them in reassurance. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I didn't mean to be a dick. Baby, don't cry, please. I hate it when you cry."

"I...I can't have you leave again, Edward," she whimpered. "I _can't_. If she says something to you that upsets you..." She lifted her head and looked at him; her large, brown, anxious eyes nearly broke his heart. "You _can't_ leave me."

Cullen frowned gently, purposefully, and shook his head. He had hurt her so much when he had walked away. He would never forgive himself for causing her pain.

"Listen to me," he said firmly. "You're stuck with me. I swear to you, Peaches. I'm not going anywhere without you, ever again." He cupped her chin and moved closer so that his lips moved by the corner of her mouth, "Ever."

He wound his hands around her hips, and pulled her so that she was sitting on the couch edge with her legs on either side of his waist. He lifted her hands onto his shoulders and wiped at her tear stained cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

"Look at me," he said softly when her stare dropped once more to the floor. Her eyes moved sluggishly, but eventually their gazes met.

"You have to trust me, baby," he pleaded. "I need _you_ to understand _my _need to do this."

Bella leaned her cheek into his palm. She blinked tiredly. "Why do you need to do this, Edward?"

He tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled with the right side of his mouth as he shrugged, "Because I have to show her."

Bella frowned. "Show her what?"

Cullen's smile turned bashful. "How much I love you."

=PoF=

_Renee paced, rolling her shoulders slightly as she reached the far wall and retraced her nervous steps. She had always suffered from stage fright, not least when she was speaking to nearly one thousand people, including local journalists and politicians from the area. This was the biggest gathering on the tour and was the one she had been most anxious about._

_She rubbed her sweating hands down her hips and sighed._

"_Mrs Swan?"_

_Renee turned to see Amy with a black phone in her hand. She frowned in question._

"_It's the Senator."_

_Renee immediately felt her chest lift and open in relief. She took the phone, giving a smile of thanks, and continued to pace._

"_Hey," she breathed._

"_Hey. How are you?"_

_Renee exhaled. "I'm okay."_

"_Liar," he smiled. "You're pacing."_

"_Like an idiot," Renee laughed dryly._

"_Sweetheart, you'll be fantastic."_

"_I hope so."_

"_I know so," Charlie said firmly._

_Renee stopped moving and held the phone closer to her ear desperate to get nearer to the man at the end of it._

"_I need you," she whispered._

_Charlie hummed in agreement. "You'll have me tomorrow, Beautiful."_

"_It seems so far away."_

"_It does, but it's just one sleep. That's all. Easy."_

_Renee smiled and nodded. "I can't wait."_

"_Me too. Hey, Isabella wants to know if you want anything from the park today. She's worried that you'll be feeling sad because you're not here with us."_

_Renee bit her lip and felt her heart flutter. "She's so precious. Tell her to bring me a huge kiss and an enormous hug for when I see you both tomorrow. That would make me very happy."_

_Charlie laughed. "I'll tell her."_

_Renee's assistant knocked gently on the door; gesturing politely to her watch. Renee nodded._

"_Charlie, I have to go," she said regretfully._

"_Okay, knock 'em dead, baby. I'll call before we leave for the shelter tonight."_

"_Okay, Darling. Give Isabella a kiss from me."_

"_Of course," he replied. "And enjoy your surprise. I love you. Bye."_

_Renee had no time to ask what he was talking about before he put the phone down. She looked at the phone in utter puzzlement until Amy's small cough brought her attention to the huge bunch of red roses that were in her assistant's arms._

"_I think these are for you," Amy said as she placed them carefully onto the coffee table in the centre of the room._

_Renee, with her hand over her mouth, walked towards the vase and picked up the small card hidden amongst the exquisite flowers:_

_My Renee,_

_To make you smile._

_I know you will be stupendous today. You always are._

_I can't wait to be with you. I'm counting the hours._

_I love you with all of my heart._

_Yours always,_

_Charlie x_

=PoF=

"Is my mom still there?"

Cullen watched her carefully as Isabella moved closer into his side, needing his warmth and skin against her own.

"Yes, Sweetheart, she is," Nana Boo answered with a hint of sadness. "Her flight isn't until later this evening. Would you like to talk to her?"

"No, but..." Isabella took a deep breath. "Nana, I'll be coming over this afternoon." She paused, "If that's alright?"

"Isabella, of course it's alright," Nana Boo chimed brightly. "We want you here. _I_ wantyou here."

Despite the fact that she seriously doubted Renee wanted her there, Isabella couldn't fight the smile that her grandmother always seemed to be able to conjure. "I'm glad."

"Will you...be alone?" Nana Boo asked in a quiet, solemn voice.

"No," Isabella answered immediately, as she pulled Cullen's fingertips to her mouth.

Nana Boo gasped. "He came back to you? He's there?"

"Yes," Isabella grinned.

"Oh, Angel, I'm so happy. I knew he would. I knew he loved you too much."

Cullen smiled at Isabella's side and rubbed his index finger through his eyebrow, clearly able to hear the old woman's excitement.

"He does," Isabella uttered as she nuzzled into his shoulder.

"And you're both okay?"

Isabella looked deeply into Cullen's eyes, allowing herself to become momentarily lost in the perfect sea green of his irises.

"Yeah," she murmured breathlessly. "We're okay."

"That's wonderful, Darling. _So _wonderful."

Isabella could hear the tears in her grandmother's voice, and at once felt her throat become thick with emotion. Cullen, noticing the sad tension that began to drape over her, pulled Isabella further into his body, protectively, lovingly.

"It is," Isabella agreed gently, closing her eyes as the warmth of Cullen began to seep into her. "Edward will be coming with me. But...would you mind if that stayed between us? I don't want mom to...well, she needs to be there."

Nana Boo was silent for a beat, which gave Isabella enough time to feel exceptionally guilty for putting her in such a fuck awful position. The shit wasn't fair. At all. And Isabella hated that Nana Boo was smack bang in the middle of it all.

"I'm so sorry, Nana," Isabella murmured, placing her palm on her forehead. "I really am."

"Shhh, Darling, it's alright," her grandmother countered softly. "If it means that you two will settle your differences...well, I want nothing more."

Isabella fiddled distractedly with a stray thread that hung from the hem of her sweat pants. "Things...need to be said."

"Yes, they do," Nana Boo said tenderly, "By both of you."

"I love you, Nana," Isabella murmured. "Thank you so much...for everything."

"I love you too, Darling. I don't need your thanks, but I appreciate them nonetheless."

"Okay," Isabella smiled. "We'll see you later."

"You will."

Isabella ended the call and dropped the phone onto the couch cushion next to her. Cullen's warm hand on her own made her turn to look at him. Her heart kicked behind her ribs. His face was beautiful in its concern and sensitivity.

_He loves me._

"Everything alright?" he asked as his thumb moved tenderly down the side of her face.

"Yeah," Isabella replied with a long breath of fatigue. "I just hate that she's in the middle. It isn't fair on her."

"I know, baby," Cullen placated. He kissed her temple and took a deep breath of her hair. "I hate it too, but it'll be okay. I promise."

"I hope you're right," Isabella muttered as she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

Bundled up safely against him, it was hard for Isabella to imagine anything outside the skin of his neck, the strength in his chest, his arms, and his warm scent. She wished beyond anything that everything against them would simply disappear, leaving her and the man that she adored together without fear of recrimination or judgement. The hurdles they faced were still many and dangerous.

God, the mere thought of Cullen being in the same room as her mother, let alone speaking to her, filled Isabella with a dread so profound, she was sure she could taste it at the back of her throat.

She fisted his t-shirt and tried to get nearer to him. He lifted her onto his lap, cradling her, subconsciously knowing what she needed. She was so fucking scared. She trusted Cullen, of course, she did, but she knew what her mother was like. Using the word venomous to describe her, as harsh as it sounded, didn't seem enough. She said things unthinkingly, with fear and prejudice, while Cullen, although calmer than he was when they first met, had a temper that was entirely unpredictable.

It could end very, very badly. It would be difficult, especially for Cullen, but her heart was near bursting at the thought of his doing it to show his love for her. Truthfully, Isabella despised her mother for making her choose between them both. It was unfair and completely unnecessary. She would be walking into her grandmother's house with every intention of standing by Cullen.

It wasn't a question really; she would choose him every time.

It had _always_ been him.

Isabella would protect him and stand up for him, against anyone or anything, including her own mother.

_Including the parole board, Alice, Jasper, Peter..._

Isabella felt her spine straighten instantly in fear as a sudden realisation hit her like a wrecking ball.

_Holy shit._

Cullen didn't know about the photographs.

She clenched her eyes shut and buried her face into his chest, unable to look at him like the coward she was. She was despicable. _Trust. Honesty. Openness_. Those were what she wanted most between them, and there she was, closed, scared, and keeping things from him. He had laid himself bare to her. He had let her in, giving her his heart without a second thought.

_Oh God. _

He would hit the fucking roof. He would freak out, demand answers that she didn't have, before he would bay for blood and take them both back to square one with his eager fists and blazing anger.

_No._

She had to trust him, have faith in him.

She swallowed. "Edward. There's something...I have to show you."

"Yeah. What is it?" he asked tiredly against the crown of her head.

She breathed deeply and licked her lips. "It's..." She paused. "You have to promise me something."

Cullen frowned slightly. "Okay."

Isabella focused hard on her fingers that trailed along the neckline of his t-shirt. "You have to promise me...that you won't freak out."

She felt him tense up as soon as the words left her mouth.

"_What_ is it, Bella?" he said, more awake and on edge. "Why would I freak out?"

Slowly, Isabella lifted her head and looked at him. His brows were almost meeting in the middle and his jaw was edged with panic. She cupped the side of his face and kissed his lips. They were unresponsive, but she expected it.

"Come with me," she said and lifted up from him, holding out her hand for him to take, which he did, cautiously.

"Bella?" he asked, as she led him back towards the bedroom and gestured for him to take a seat on the bed. "You're scaring the shit out of me here."

His tone was sharp, but Isabella knew it was because he was worried. She paused briefly as she retrieved the damned envelope from her suitcase, praying to God that he would keep his head. Approaching Cullen with the timidity that likened him to a wild animal, she handed it to him without a word, feeling his stare pierce her face.

"Just...try to be calm. That's all I ask, Edward."

Whether he meant to or not, Cullen snatched the envelope from her hand and ripped the lip of it open. His movements were sharp and frustrated. "I'll be calm when I know what the fuck is going on," he sniped.

Isabella wrapped her arms around herself in preparation for his reaction. She watched as he pulled out the photographs, his face utterly unreadable. He flicked through them slowly, taking the images in with eyes that sparked with something that made the hairs on Isabella's arms lift. He was dangerously silent.

"Who gave you these?" he asked, in a voice that demanded a quick response.

"My mom."

Cullen's head snapped up. "_She_ took these?"

Isabella's eyes widened. "No! No, no, no, they were _sent _to her. She didn't take them. She doesn't know _who_ took them."

Cullen sneered and looked down at the picture of the two of them outside of the library laughing. "Well, it doesn't take a fuckin' genius to work out who did."

He slammed the pictures down and exploded up from his seat, storming towards the bedroom door with purposeful, giant strides.

"Edward, what are you doing?" Isabella called after him, racing to catch up.

"I'm going to call that motherfucker cousin of mine and tell him what he can do with his fucking pictures," he snarled over his shoulder at her, "Son of a bitch coward. Who the _fuck_ does he think he is messing with? I'll kill him. I swear to God, I'll kill him."

Isabella managed to scramble to the phone before Cullen, blocking his way. He stared at her incredulously when she refused to move.

"What are you _doing_?"

"I'm stopping you from making a mistake," Isabella replied firmly. As formidable as he was, standing over her, filled with rage and fear, Isabella didn't back down.

"Get out of the way, Bella," he huffed, manoeuvring himself around her, but she stood firm, craning her neck so that she could see his face, "Move!"

"No! I won't. You promised you'd stay calm."

"No, I didn't," he retorted roughly.

"I'm asking you, please, Edward, just _think _for a minute."

He cursed again and narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you want me to think about exactly, huh?"

"We don't even know if it _is_ Peter."

"Oh, give me a break, Bella," he fumed, lifting his palms towards the ceiling. "The shithead has been looking for a way to get me out of my company since I was a fucking kid. Not to mention the fact that he wants _you_."

His face flashed with a possessive, feral violence that Isabella hadn't seen since Arthur Kill.

Cullen pointed towards the room where he had left the pictures. "He's done this to blacken _your _name and throw _me_ over a fucking barrel."

"Which is exactly where he will have you if you pick up this phone!" Isabella reasoned sharply.

Cullen dropped his arm slowly, but the anger in his gaze never wavered. The room was filled with heavy, angry breaths and crackling rage.

"Just...take a minute," she urged carefully. "Please. For me?"

His face pinched tightly at her words. Isabella knew that it was a low blow to ask him to do it for her, but she had run out of options. The damage that he could cause if he made a call to Peter could be catastrophic, making a set of black and white pictures seem entirely insignificant. They had to play it out wisely, carefully, and jumping in with two furious, size eleven feet was not the way to go about it.

Cullen glared down at Isabella, shoving his hands against his hips. He shuffled from one foot to another, muttering curses under his breath, before he gripped his hair in his right hand, almost pulling it out at the roots.

"I need a fucking cigarette," he complained as he turned from her and snatched his jacket from the back of the sofa.

The hotel balcony was calf-deep with snow, resulting in Cullen opening one of the large windows; sticking his head out into the freezing weather. Not that he seemed to mind it. His wrath was certainly enough to keep him toasty warm.

He lit his cigarette and took a long drag before blowing the smoke out with a frustrated gust down both his nose and out of his mouth. Isabella watched him for a few moments, waiting for his shoulders to lose their sharp, tense edge, before she slowly made her way over to him. She knew that she needed to keep his mind away from making that call for as long as she could.

Isabella was 99% sure that Whitlock _was _behind the photos. He'd been her first thought when she had initially seen them, but she didn't need to tell Cullen that. He needed to just breathe and try to think logically about what their next move was going to be.

His reaction, although immediate and aggressive, was nothing compared to what Isabella had imagined which spoke volumes about the emotional headspace Cullen was now in. Weirdly, Isabella felt a pang of pride in her heart. Her punk ass boy was still very much there, in his razor like tongue and his clenched fists, but he seemed diluted now, calmer, a more controllable version that allowed Cullen to think rationally and be reasoned with.

Tentatively, Isabella pressed her palm to the small of his back and leaned into his side. He rested his forearms on the window edge and pulled on his smoke again, hard and deep.

"What are you thinking?" Isabella asked gently as she looked at his sharp edged profile.

He shook his head and gave a sardonic smile. The smoke left his mouth in a large plume as he answered. "You don't want to know."

Isabella kissed his bicep through his t-shirt. "It'll be alright. We'll sort this, bab-"

"How, Bella?" he snapped, silencing her with a blazing stare, "How the hell are we meant to '_sort this_', huh? '_Sort this_', Jesus, what fucking bullshit!"

Isabella took a much-needed deep breath and held her tongue as best as she could. Even so, her tone dripped with warning. "You don't need to get mad at _me_, Edward. I haven't done anything wrong. I'm just trying to be positive."

Staring at her for a beat, Cullen groaned and dropped his forehead heavily to his arm. "Fuck," he mumbled. "Fuck, I know." He lifted his head and looked at her with loving, apologetic eyes.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "Okay? I'm...I'm sorry."

"I know," she replied. "It's okay. I get that you're angry, freaked out, I am too. But we need to be together on this."

"I just hate him," Cullen seethed with dangerous eyes that flashed black. "I knew he was capable of this shit, but I didn't_ actually_ think he was prick enough to do it."

"I know," Isabella soothed. "I know, but it'll be alright."

Cullen looked at her, shaking his head with incredulous eyes and an exasperated scowl.

"How are you so fucking calm?" he asked. "Why are you...why are you so _normal_?" Before Isabella could answer he had flicked his cigarette away and had hold of her shoulders tightly in his hands. "Do you not understand what those pictures could do to your career, Bella?"

Isabella paused for one moment, mulling over her answer. Of course, she knew the ramifications of the photographs, the questions that would be raised and the assumptions that would be made. She knew all of it, and, truthfully, she _was_ petrified. She loved teaching. It had been all she had wanted to do her whole life, all she could ever imagine doing, and, whether or not she was taking steps to leave Kill so that she and Cullen would be free to have a relationship, the dangers that the pictures posed were still very real.

"I _do_ understand," she answered finally.

"And you're okay with it. I mean, Bella...this could really fuck things up for you. Not to mention that it could...you and me could..." His face grew angry again as words failed him in a flurry of breath and panicked eyes.

"I can't believe he'd do that," he fumed. "He can do what the fuck he wants to me, but...not you."

"Edward," Isabella murmured. "It's fine-"

Cullen scoffed, released her, and stood to his full height. "Dammit! It's nowhere near _fine_, Bella!"

"Hey, _listen_ to me," she implored, grabbing his hand in hers and holding it to her chest. "I know that it could mess things up. I'm not stupid. I know that it could mean problems for us, for you...but I have belief in us. I trust that we can face whatever happens. _Together_."

She dipped her chin and caught his stare, smiling tenderly. "I love you. I won't let anything come between us. I won't."

The tone of her voice must have convinced Cullen as the tension in his face eased. He sighed and nodded.

"I know," he murmured while tracing her hand with his fingertips. "You know I love you too. So much."

Isabella nodded and smiled as the sparks of euphoria that occurred whenever she heard those words fall from his mouth, shot around her chest like Fourth of July fireworks.

"Plus," she continued quietly, calmly. "I think if we play this right...and hope for the best, it could really work in our favour."

Cullen looked at her cautiously. Isabella could practically see the cogs going to work in his head. "What am I missing here?" he asked suspiciously. "What do you know that I don't?"

Isabella cupped his cheek and smiled warmly. "All you need to do, Edward, is trust me."

Cullen exhaled down his nose. "I _do_ trust you, but you need to tell me all there is to know here." His gaze was hot and firm. "Be honest with me."

Isabella paused and bit her lip as she contemplated his reaction to what she was about to suggest. "Okay."

She breathed deeply, finding her faith in him, and held it for a beat before saying, "I need to call Jamie."

=PoF=

"_And then we saw the wolves and one barked at daddy and he jumped!"_

_Renee laughed when she heard Charlie in the background ardently disputing his apparent 'jumping.'_

"_He says he didn't, but I saw," Isabella whispered down the phone. "He was really scared."_

"_I bet," Renee smiled as she sat down. "He can be a scardy cat sometimes."_

_Isabella giggled, high and soft. "Nah, he _is_ brave. He even let me climb all over the 'Wonderland' statue without holding onto me. He said I was allowed because I'm getting bigger now."_

"_You are," Renee agreed quietly, regretfully._

_The truth was it seemed like only yesterday that she and Charlie had brought their beautiful, tiny daughter home, wrapped in blankets and pursing her perfect lips. Nine years had passed so fast. Their little girl was growing up, and that thought saddened Renee more than she would ever admit._

"_Do you think I'll be as tall as daddy when I get older?"Isabella asked thoughtfully. "He can reach the highest branches."_

"_I think you'll tower over daddy, Isabella," Renee replied with a wide grin. "You'll tower over all of us."_

"_And do you think that I'll be as strong as daddy?"_

"_I do."_

"_And will I be as pretty as you?"_

_Renee pressed her lips together and smiled, fighting back the emotion that tingled all over her body. "Yes. More so. You'll be even more beautiful than you are now, Isabella. You will be tall enough to reach the stars, strong enough to take on the world, and everyone will be amazed by you."_

_Isabella laughed. "When will I see you, Mommy?"_

"_Tomorrow, Sweetheart. You and daddy will see me tomorrow."_

_Isabella sighed sadly, "Good. I miss you."_

"_I miss you too, my darling. I love you."_

=PoF=

The tension in the car as Bella drove it back to Nana Boo's was thick and suffocating, much like the snow that lay like a blanket all over the city. The freezing air and the flakes that fell continually from the sky, however, had done nothing to cool Cullen's temper.

He was riled. He was pissed. He was panicked. And he knew that he had mere moments to wind himself back in before the potential shit would hit the proverbial fan.

_Fuck._ He felt like he was about to crawl out of his own skin. His brain felt three sizes too big for his skull, and his heart was thumping in his chest in such a way that his sweater shook with its force.

He stopped tapping his foot against the car floor and cracked the knuckles of his right hand, in hopes that the tension that set his spine poker straight would somehow be eased. Between Bella's mother, the photographs, and the mention of Jamie Damon, Cullen was feeling utterly exhausted. It hadn't been helped by the fact that he was running on six hours of sleep over the past forty-eight hours. He leaned his head back against the rest and closed his eyes.

How the hell had he managed to get himself into such a God-awful mess?

Not that he regretted it. _Fuck no_. He loved his Peaches with everything that he was. He belonged to her in every way that a person could to another. He wanted to be with her more than anything and to remain so for as long as she would put up with his moody, stubborn, criminal ass. It was just so hard to feel anything but fucking despondent when they continually came up against reasons for them not to be together. It was one thing after another and Cullen could feel himself starting to become overwhelmed.

"Are you okay?" Bella asked softly.

Cullen kept his eyes closed and nodded in response. Like an asshole, he had no words of comfort for her even though he knew that she needed them from him badly. Bella always came across as being exceptionally strong. She was determined, assertive, and confident. But Cullen knew, like himself, she silently craved reassurance and support. He simply didn't know how to give it to her. He settled for placing his hand on her leg. Contact was good.

He could tell from the tremor in her voice that she was as nervous as he was about the upcoming conversation with Renee, and rightly so. Even though he had gone over and over in his head, what he wanted to say, Cullen knew that he was walking straight into the lion's den, vulnerable and scared shitless. An absurd animated image suddenly popped into his head, where his entire body turned into a sirloin steak with a salivating lion Renee, sitting behind a dining table, sharpening her teeth and claws ready to devour him.

Yeah, lack of sleep was a bitch.

He took a deep breath through his nose and held it. _No, it would be okay_. He just had to make sure that he didn't let her control the discussion – if that was the appropriate word for it. Hell, it would be a heated one at the very least. He had to keep his head and allow her to have her say. That shit was vitally important. Cullen was under no illusions, he understood why Renee behaved the way that she did. Not that he excused it, but if his own daughter got involved with someone like him, Cullen would have no problem with ripping the fucker's ball sack from his body with his bare hands.

It was all about convincing Renee that he loved Bella with his whole heart; that he would do anything for her, _be_ anything for her. She was safe with him. He would protect her, cherish her, and love her until his last breath.

Hopefully, it would be enough. Jesus Christ, he hoped that it would be enough. He breathed out slowly.

If he could make Bella's mother see that he wasn't all about the length of his criminal record, and that mistakes don't define a man, then he would be on the home straight. Then, and only then, would he start to deal with Whitlock...and Jamie Damon. Cullen gritted his teeth at the mere thought.

As childish and as caveman as it was, as soon as Bella had mentioned Damon's name, all Cullen could think about was the fact that the two of them had fucked.

It didn't matter that it had happened years ago or that the bastard was an attorney who specialised in business contracts, mergers, and had expert knowledge about the inner workings of every company on Wall St - which meant that he could dig up some shit on Whitlock.

_No._

What mattered was that Damon had seen his woman naked.

_Naked._

Yeah, that fact alone made Cullen want to kill something. Or someone.

As much as Cullen wanted to see Whitlock squirm, he wanted to break Damon's legs more. _Ridiculous_. Bella's voice echoed in his head. Needless to say, she'd been less than impressed with his reaction to her '_best friend's'_ – her words not his – name. She'd said that he was being ludicrous and that jealousy was not attractive.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he _was _being ridiculous, he was certainly acting like a jealous fool, but love made a man do crazy things.

His being in a car on the way to have his ass handed to him on a plate being Exhibit A.

Cullen gradually opened his eyes to see that they were, in fact, about five minutes from the house. His heart gave a resounding thump behind his ribs in anxiety and his hand on Bella's leg began to sweat profusely. Goddamnit, he was a wreck. With his free hand, he rubbed at his tired eyes and grappled with his chaotic hair a couple of times. He needed to pull himself together and man up instead of behaving like a pussy. He wondered fleetingly if he would have time to have a smoke before battle commenced.

"We're here," Bella murmured as she turned off the car engine.

Apparently not.

Cullen swallowed as he looked out of the window towards the house that had seemed so foreboding not forty-eight hours before. Now it appeared warm and welcoming, despite what lay in wait for him on the inside.

"Peaches."

"Edward."

They spoke at the same time, nervous and quiet. Cullen turned to her with a wry smile.

"Go on," he offered.

"No," she insisted with a shake of her head. "Please, what were you going to say?"

What the fuck _was _he going to say? He had no idea whether her name had escaped him simply because the sound of it and the knowledge that she was close by comforted him more than he could ever express. Desperate for her touch, Cullen picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth, placing a courtly kiss on the back of it.

"I just..." He sighed. "Whatever she says, Bella, whatever she calls me or accuses me of...whatever happens, I want you to promise me that you won't say anything."

Bella's eyes widened in surprised horror, "What?"

"You heard me," he answered calmly.

If he was going to do this, he had to do it alone. What kind of mother wanted to see the man that loved her daughter as a weak, incapable prick? The last thing he wanted was for Bella to defend him. He was determined to fight this one on his own.

Bella looked around herself incredulously. "I can't promise that, Edward."

Cullen didn't ask why. He knew why. He knew because if she'd asked the same thing, he knew that he wouldn't be able to do it either. It was about protection, love, defending what she believed in, and that thought alone set Cullen's skin on fire. He cupped her cheeks quickly and pulled her mouth to his, pressing his lips to hers in a searing kiss of thanks and promises.

_Thank you for loving me. I promise I'll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I'm worthy._

He peppered soft kisses across her mouth as she yielded to his assault and leaned his forehead against hers. She clung onto his forearms and blew her sweet, warm breath across his face.

"Please," he begged. "Please do this for me? I _need_ you to do this for me."

He watched as she closed her eyes and dropped her shoulders in defeat. Her chin wobbled but she managed to hold it together.

"If she says-"

"I'm not going _anywhere_," Cullen said firmly, interrupting her train if thought. She bit her lip. "Look at me."

She did. She looked at him with fear in the chocolate of her irises.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," he insisted. "I promise you." He brushed the back of his fingers down the side of her face. "Do you trust me?"

She nodded weakly.

"Do you love me?"

"With my whole heart," she replied. "I'm terrified."

"I know," Cullen whispered. "But I'm here. I'm here with _you_." He kissed her again. "I love you, Bella. Dammit, I love you so much."

He felt her smile against the corner of his mouth and her hands move to his neck where she calmed him with the gentleness of her palms and fingertips.

"I'll try and keep my mouth shut," she said. "But if she starts...If she starts, so will I."

The conviction in her voice was undeniable.

Cullen smirked at her sass and protectiveness. "That's as much as I can hope for."

=PoF=

"_How has your day been, Beautiful?"_

"_Long," Renee answered, "Tiring." She rubbed the balls of her feet and groaned. "I miss you both terribly."_

"_I know. We've missed you too."_

_Renee smiled and sat back against the pillows of the bed that she had vacated fifteen hours before._

"_Isabella sounded like she'd had a wonderful time at the park."_

_Charlie laughed. "She did. We played in the leaves. She has not stopped chattering all day. She's as bad as her mother."_

_Renee scoffed. "She's her father's daughter and you know it, Senator."_

_Charlie hummed contentedly. "Yeah, but that's what makes her so damned lovable."_

_Renee laughed and felt warm at the thought of her daughter. "She's growing up so fast," she mused softly._

"_Yeah," Charlie agreed with a hint of regret in his voice. "She won't need me to look after her for very much longer."_

_Renee felt her heart clench. "Of course she will, Charlie. She'll need you her whole life. She'll need both of us to love and protect her."_

_Charlie sighed._

"_Darling," Renee coaxed. "What is it?"_

_There was a pregnant pause in which Renee allowed her husband to collect his thoughts as he was want to do when he had something important on his mind. _

"_I just...I don't know, Renee. Watching her today and hearing her talk about school, and her books and what she wants to be when she grows up, makes me feel..."_

"_Old?" Renee offered in an attempt to lighten the conversation._

"_Yeah," Charlie chuckled. "But it's more than that."_

_He let his words trail off. Renee changed the phone from her left to her right and sat forward._

"_Sweetheart, are you alright?"_

"_I'm fine, baby," he replied. "I just don't want our daughter to grow up yet."_

_Renee smiled. "I know what you mean. But there's nothing we can do."_

"_I just want her to be happy and safe."_

_Renee frowned gently. "And why wouldn't she be either?"_

"_I don't know," Charlie countered. Renee could hear him rubbing his moustache. "I'm being stupid, ignore me."_

"_You're not being stupid, Charlie," Renee soothed. "She's your baby girl. Of course, you want her to stay that way. I do too, but we can't protect her from everything."_

"_We can try. I wouldn't let anyone hurt her."_

"_I know that," Renee said gently, hearing the underlying fury behind Charlie's words at the mere thought of someone touching Isabella._

"_I wouldn't let anyone hurt either of you."He paused. "You're everything to me, Renee. Both of you. You know that, don't you?"_

_Renee felt her heart stammer in her chest as his words sent a rush of unexpected and unwanted cold up her back, "Of course, Charlie. You're everything to me too and I'd protect Isabella with my life. "She swallowed. "Are you really okay?"_

"_I'm fine, Beautiful. I just miss you. I feel like there's a part of me missing."_

"_Ditto," Renee whispered. "Thank you for my roses by the way. They're exquisite."_

"_You're welcome. Did they make you smile?"_

"_So hard the back of my head hurt."_

_They laughed and allowed silence to take over the line once again. Strangely, Renee felt exceedingly hesitant to end the call and put the phone down. Not that she didn't normally feel that way, but this time...it felt different._

"_What time are you going to the shelter?" she asked as a way of distracting herself from feeling...whatever it was she was feeling._

"_Um...in about an hour, I guess," he answered. "Isabella is wearing her new blue dress."_

_Renee smiled. "She'll look beautiful."_

"_She'll look like you," he replied._

_Renee hummed in forced agreement. They both knew that Isabella was the double of her father._

"_She's excited."_

"_Like you," Renee smirked._

"_Yeah, I am," he agreed._

"_As you should be, Charlie. The shelter is fantastic. Your ideas about improving the area and helping people are fantastic. _You_ are fantastic."_

_Charlie laughed loudly. "I knew I should have had you as my campaign manager."_

_Renee rolled her eyes and giggled. "I may be a little biased, but I am so proud of you."_

"_You are?" Charlie asked tenderly._

"_Yes, I am," Renee replied. "I'm always proud of everything that you do, but this especially. I know what it means to you."_

_Renee knew what he had gone through with his alcoholic, absentee father, and a mother who continually struggled to make ends meet. If Charlie had had a shelter such as the one that he had built in Brooklyn, while he grew up, he would no doubt have had less contact with the local police department and law enforcement groups in his local area._

_She smiled to herself. Her bad-boy Senator._

_It hadn't been easy though. They had hit a few bumps in the road along the way. Christ, the arguments that Renee had had with her father about her choice of husband had been apocalyptic at times. The old fool seemed to assume that, because Charlie had a criminal record, he was automatically no good for Renee. Renee, however, had fought hard and passionately in Charlie's defence, simply because the mere thought of being without him was devastating._

_He was her other half, her soul mate, and she'd fight hell and high water before she'd walk away from him._

"_I just hope those assholes in Washington decide to give me some room to breathe with it," Charlie said in annoyance._

"_They will," Renee assured him. "And if they don't they'll have me to deal with."_

_Charlie snorted. "Yeah, I just bet they would."_

"_Damn straight."_

_Charlie exhaled. "God, I love you, Renee. I can't wait to see you."_

"_Me too, Sweetheart."_

"_I meant what I said," he continued. "I'm counting the hours until we're together again."_

"_One more sleep."_

"_Yeah."_

"_Kiss Isabella for me."_

"_I will."_

"_I'll save your kiss for when I see you."_

"_Mmm."_

"_Good luck tonight. Be careful."_

"_Always am."_

"_Will you call me later?"_

"_Again?" he laughed._

"_I love hearing your voice," she confessed shyly. "You don't have to."_

"_If that's what you want, I'll call you later."_

"_Thank you."_

"_I love you so much."_

"_I love you too."_

"_Bye."_

"_Bye."_

=PoF=

Cullen clutched Bella's hand, as they stood on Nana Boo's porch waiting for someone to open the damned door, like a drowning man. The urge to vomit was still fresh in Cullen's stomach, but he tried to breathe through that shit as best he could.

_Be strong. Be strong._

He knew that he was drawing all of his strength from the incredible woman at his side, but that was fine. He felt her small fingers tighten around his and knew that she was doing the exact same thing.

The sound of a deadbolt sliding home made his neck tingle and his throat dry.

_Here we go._

Trevor opened the door with a wide, gracious smile, as Harry wagged his tail heartily at his side. "Miss Isabella. Mr Cullen. How nice to see you again. Please, come in."

Bella smiled but Cullen could do little more than grimace. He literally had to pull his feet from the goddamn floor so that he could walk forwards. They felt like lead, which was pretty fucking awesome considering his heart and brain felt the exact same way. It was just his fucking luck the confidence and determination that had filled his body the day before, had all but disappeared now he needed it. He suddenly felt very small and very, very foolish.

Fuck, what the hell had he been thinking?

"Edward," Bella whispered, pulling both of his hands to hers as they stood in the large lobby of the house. "Are you okay?"

He swallowed and looked down at her, beautiful and soft, strong and loving, and felt his lungs begin to slowly clear of the fog that had weighed him down since earlier that morning. He pursed his lips and blew a breath of relief through them. He was so fucking grateful that she was there. He was so fucking grateful that she was his, standing with him, on his side, ready to back him up in any way that she could. He cupped her face and smiled a genuine, honest to God smile.

"I'm fine with you here, Peaches," he murmured, allowing his lips to whisper softly against hers. "_Thank you_ for being here."

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered fervently.

"Me neither."

"You and me?"

"You and me."

=PoF=

_Renee shot up from her curled position on the sofa, soaked in sweat and breathless._

_With frantic eyes and a thumping heart, she looked at the clock to see that it was seven-thirty. The television was still on, playing quietly to itself, and the sounds of the city were still audible through her hotel window._

_Charlie will be calling soon, she thought as she worked out the time difference in her haze of disturbed sleep. She didn't even remember dropping off. She ran her hands through her hair and down her face, willing her entire body to calm down. She felt as though she had run a marathon. Her pulse roared in her ears, her throat was closed and arid, and her head felt compressed with the heaviness of her disorientation._

_She took a few laboured breaths and sat on the edge of the couch, rubbing her pounding temples with the tips of her fingers._

_She looked again at the clock, the ticking of which seemed to echo like a death knell around the entire suite._

_He'll be calling soon._

_She rubbed her hands down the middle of her chest where she felt a large cold spot above her heart. It was so cold...so empty. She inhaled deeply, feeling it become uncomfortable, like thorns against silk._

_He'll be calling soon. I'll hear his voice soon._

_Hot chocolate, that's what she needed._

_Charlie always made Isabella hot chocolate when she had a nightmare._

_A nightmare. Was that what had woken her so violently?_

_With her wits around her ankles, and a desperate feeling of unease surrounding her like a coffin, Renee lifted from the sofa._

_Feeling her legs shake with weariness, and her head spin with dizziness, she wandered carefully across the room to the drinks percolator and ripped open a sachet of drinking chocolate, the contents of which scattered across the side table when the phone rang like a shriek of terror in the night._

=PoF=

Nana Boo smiled warmly at Cullen and kissed his cheek tenderly. "So good to see you," she murmured against his skin.

"You too," he replied bashfully. He took a deep breath as she stood back and fixed her with an apologetic stare. "I'm...I'm sorry about yesterday," he said quietly.

He let the air rush from his lungs when Bella's hand pressed into the small of his back.

"I'm...an idiot and the last thing I wanted to do was to upset Bella." He shook his head and closed his eyes at his ridiculously inadequate words.

"I mean, I know that she would have been upset," he mumbled, glancing at Bella quickly. "I just...I wanted...fuck, I'm sorry that I left, okay...and...Yeah...Yeah."

Nana Boo's face lit with an admiring smile as Cullen shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, wanting nothing more than for the floor to swallow his ass whole. She placed her palm on his arm and rubbed it gently, coaxing his eyes back to hers. The warmth of her gaze and the tenderness in her touch filled Cullen with a nostalgic feeling of hope and love. For one split second, he was seven years old again.

"Thank you for the apology," Nana Boo said softly. "But there really is no need. As long as you and Isabella are fine, then I'm happy."

"We _are_ fine," Bella said as she moved closer to Cullen's side. "We're more than fine. Right, baby?"

Cullen looked down at her and nodded, "Yeah."

He could have easily lost himself in Bella's gorgeous, chocolate eyes over and over, and he would have done quite happily, had it not been for the unexpected sound of a throat clearing that reverberated around the cavernous lobby like a vicious snarl.

Bella's stare snapped instantly to her right, but Cullen kept his front and centre, tracing the delicate curve of his Peaches' face. He didn't need to look. He knew whom it was and what to expect when he did. Jesus, he could feel the woman's stare burning through his face like a fucking gamma death ray.

The silence was about as comfortable as a quilt of glass, and everyone under it became unnaturally still. Even Nana Boo, who was normally so vibrant and full of life, remained motionless and quiet.

"Well, isn't this cosy?" Renee said sardonically.

Cullen sighed, blinked slowly, and then lifted his head so that he could face the woman that he was there to see. She was standing in the living room doorway, looking spectacularly pretty and ageless in a pair of black jeans and a grey sweater. A tall man with dark hair and a Yankees hoodie stood behind her. He tentatively placed his hand on Renee's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze.

Renee scowled at Cullen and folded her arms defensively across her chest, which was definitely not a good start. Her face was angry and hurt, but surrounding all of that, when she looked at Bella, around her tight mouth and narrowed eyes were the markings of hope.

Cullen hoped to Christ that he was right.

If she_ was_ hopeful, then he would cling onto that fucker like a vice. He could use it to his advantage. He could turn that hope into understanding. That's all he could ask for. He didn't need her blessing or her acceptance. He just needed her to understand.

"What the hell is _he _doing here?" she asked sharply.

Cullen gripped Bella's arm quickly, halting her retort in its tracks. She looked up at him with furious eyes that searched his face for answers.

"It's okay," he whispered before bending his head down and placing a reassuring kiss on her forehead.

Slowly, he removed his hand from hers and stepped forwards. Renee watched him carefully as he approached her. The man behind her, who Cullen knew to be Phil, stepped to her side, a subtle move, which told Cullen to watch his step.

Renee's face belied any emotion that she was feeling as Cullen reached her, stopping just two feet away. But, when he held his hand out between them for her to take, a flash of utter disbelief shot across her features.

"Hello," Cullen croaked. He cleared his throat in annoyance, but kept his eyes on Renee's. "My name is Edward Cullen. I didn't get a chance to introduce myself yesterday."

The walls of the room seemed to bend and strain under the tension that emanated from everyone around Cullen, including Renee who, after what felt like a freakin' hour, _still_ hadn't taken his hand. He kept it there though, determined to show that he was no pussy, even though his insides were ready to bust out of his ass and run for the fucking hills.

"It's nice to meet you," he added when the silence once again became stifling.

Renee's stare was intense and completely bewildered. Cullen wasn't sure whether she thought him to be utterly insane or genuinely stupid. At that point he'd personally have gone for the latter. She glanced around him towards her daughter and then looked at his hand in disgust.

"Did she put you up to this?" she asked derisively.

"No!" Bella shot back from behind Cullen before he could take a breath. "_She_ didn't. And I can't believe you're just standing there and ignoring his attempts at civility like a fuc-"

"Bella," Cullen said firmly, interrupting what he knew was going to be something incredibly venomous and exceedingly unhelpful. He fixed her with a level stare and shook his head minutely. "It's alright."

Her mouth snapped shut in frustration and the anger never left the rigidity in her body, but, to her credit, she shut up.

_That's my girl._

Cullen looked back at Renee whose eyes were flickering between the pair of them, and gradually dropped his hand.

"Bella didn't put me up to this," he said gently. "I was the one who wanted to come here today."

Renee remained silent, cautious, and expectant.

Cullen took a breath. "I wanted to come here...and talk to you."

"About what?" she snapped.

Cullen felt Bella shift like a lioness about to pounce at his side. Still watching Renee, he reached out his hand, finding hers, and wrapped his index finger lovingly around her pinkie.

_Breathe, baby._

"I wanted a chance to explain," he replied calmly.

"Explain?" Renee scoffed. "Explain what, exactly? Are you here to explain why you're endangering my daughter's future? To explain why the hell I should trust you with her when you're a convicted criminal? To explain what prospects someone like _you_ could possibly have with a woman like Isabella? To explain why you have people following you both; taking pictures of the two of you? What _exactly_ are you here to explain, _Edward Cullen_?"

Her voice rose in volume with each word until she was almost shouting. Cullen didn't miss the slight quiver behind it, however, and allowed that to ease his temper that had begun to boil with each slice of her tongue. He could feel Bella shaking at his side and wrapped his middle finger around hers. He knew that she was aching to explode at her mother, but he also knew that she was resisting because he had asked her to.

_You and me, Sweetheart._

With that thought at the forefront of his mind, Cullen exhaled heavily down his nose and licked his lips.

"I can explain all of that, if that's what you want," he offered in a tone that was much more clipped than he intended. And, without knowing why, he took another step towards her. He saw her eyes widen infinitesimally as her chin rose defiantly.

"But I came here to explain that, despite what you think of me, or whatever conclusions you have come to about me and my intentions," he continued firmly. "I'm in love with your daughter. I'm in love with her and no matter what you say or do; I'm not leaving her side until _she_ orders me away."

Cullen couldn't have been sure, but he could have sworn he saw absolute shock tease at the edges of Renee's mouth.

"Is that so?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, all hints of anything other than detestation vanishing instantly from her face.

"Yeah," he answered with a sharp dip of his head, feeling his determination start to flow back through his body. "I'm not going anywhere."

He felt Bella move closer to his side and revelled in the warmth and comfort that her gesture brought. Renee saw it too, which conjured up another intense frown above her restless eyes. She stared at her daughter, but Bella's eyes were on Cullen.

"I love you," Bella whispered, loud enough that everyone heard.

Cullen looked down at her and smiled. "I love you too."

=PoF=

"_Mrs Swan, there's been an accident."_

_The voice at the end of the phone was unfamiliar. He was staff. He wouldn't have had her suite number if he wasn't._

_Renee had expected Charlie's voice. She _wanted_ Charlie's voice._

"_An accident," she repeated numbly. _

_The room swam. The room shifted and shook. Renee gripped the side table so hard the nails on her middle fingers snapped._

"_There's been an accident involving your husband and your daughter." The voice sounded so far away._

"_My...my daughter?" Her throat closed, releasing a sound that was alien to her ears. "Is she alright?"_

_My beautiful Isabella. Oh, Christ, not my Isabella._

_Her stomach clenched with a horrific wave of nausea._

"_Where...where is she? Where...Charlie...where's Charlie?"_

"_I can't tell you anymore. Security are on their way, Mrs Swan. A flight has been scheduled to bring you straight to New York and a car will be at JFK awaiting your arrival."_

_Renee didn't reply. She couldn't reply. Her whole body had frozen with a fear of such magnitude she could barely breathe. Her eyes were wide and her heart stuttered dangerously in her chest. She was cold. She was so cold._

_Charlie._

_She kept the phone to her ear even when the call disconnected and the dial tone reverberated monotonously down the line. She clutched the handset like a lifeline. She held onto it, willing the strange far away voice to come back and tell her that it was a mistake; that her husband and daughter were fine._

_But it never did._

_It was only when Amy removed the phone from her hand that Renee realised she wasn't alone in the room. It was only when she saw Amy's white, terrified face that she knew her life would never be the same again._

=PoF=

"What time is your flight, Darling?" Nana Boo asked, shattering the tense silence that had enveloped the sitting room.

"We need to be at the airport in a couple of hours," Bella answered from her seat at Cullen's side. She drew invisible circles on the back of his hand that was encased in hers on her lap. She knew that it comforted him, but at that point, Cullen was fairly sure he was past _any_ type of assurance.

Renee, seated in the large chair opposite them, glared at him as though he had asked her to give up her only virgin daughter for a public, human sacrifice. He could practically taste her disgust. He didn't let her see how her hate affected him, however. Christ, he'd seen enough of it in his lifetime to hide that shit well.

He simply looked back at her, strong and patient, waiting for her to combust with everything that he knew she wanted to say. Her small outburst in the lobby was simply the beginning and, if they were to move forward at all, she had to let the rest of it out.

It was inevitable.

Cullen wondered fleetingly what she saw when she looked at him.

Did she see the love that he had for her daughter? Did she see what conflict he had gone through to be at her side? Did she see how he would lay down his life to keep her safe?

Or did she see his list of crimes? Did she see him as a poster boy for the major fuck ups of society? Did she see regard him in the same way she regarded the animals who stole away her beloved husband?

Yeah, he thought despondently. That's _exactly_ how she saw him.

"I know that you have a lot to say," he muttered. "I know that you have strong opinions of me." He paused. "I'd rather you tell me so that...maybe I can change them."

"That won't happen," Renee hissed back.

"You don't know that."

"Don't you dare tell me what I do and do not know. I know _exactly_ who and what you are."

Cullen held Bella's hand fast when he felt her shift and tense at his side. "Could you explain to _me_?"

"Why?" She asked legitimately curious.

Cullen sat forward slightly with both of his palms up. He wanted her to see that he wasn't a threat to either her or her daughter.

"Because everyone deserves a chance to plead their case."

"You'd be fairly practised at that," Renee remarked smarmily.

"_Renee_."

Everyone's head snapped towards Nana Boo who was staring at her daughter in such a way that even Cullen felt himself sink further into his seat. Renee looked back at her mother for a brief moment before her eyes dropped submissively to her lap.

"Yes," Cullen said softly in an attempt to clear the combative atmosphere. "I've served time."

"Many times," Renee countered.

Cullen nodded.

Renee narrowed her eyes and shook her head in bewilderment. "Do you truly believe that I want my daughter with a man who considers spending time in prison as an extended summer vacation?"

"I _don't_ see it that way," Cullen replied resolutely. "I'm not proud of my past."

"Maybe so," Renee snapped. "But the past _did_ happen."

"Like dad's past," Bella interjected sharply.

Renee stared at her daughter for a beat, tears filling her eyes. "Don't you dare compare _him_ to your father," she growled. "Your father…Your father..." She bit her lip in a way that Cullen recognised, and wrapped her arms around herself.

"He may have done things that he wasn't proud of," she continued before her glower landed back onto Cullen. "But he did something to make up for it. He became someone who people admired, respected, loved-"

"Edward has done things that_ I_ admire and respect," Bella seethed. "You're so judgemental and hypocritical! You have _no _idea! You have no idea about what he has overcome, about what he has fought against his entire life. You have no idea about the night that dad died, about how Edward-"

"_Bella_," Cullen interrupted quickly. "Stop," he chastised tenderly.

He knew that she was angry for him, and he loved her even more for it, but she was causing more harm than good. Besides, he didn't want Renee to know about his role on the night the Senator died. Not yet, anyway.

There was the sound of a muffled sob from across the room. Cullen turned from Bella to see Renee's devastated face and Phil stroking her hair lovingly as she tried to regain herself.

"You think…I have _no idea_ about the night your father died?" She repeated breathlessly. "How can you...? Isabella, that night..." She shook her head, lost for words.

Cullen glanced at Bella's face to see her expression was instantly remorseful, etched with grief.

"The night your father...passed...was the worst night of my life, Isabella," Renee murmured as tears fell slowly down her face. "_I have no idea_," she repeated, giving a humourless breath of laughter. "I have never felt fear...like I did when I received _that _phone call; debilitating fear that grips your very core, Isabella."

Bella dropped her chin to her chest and closed her eyes. "Mom, I'm...sorry, I didn't mean-"

"And it wasn't just because I had lost Charlie...My husband," she choked, "As much as I adored him, loved him. No." She looked at Bella with shimmering eyes and the devastating memories lining her face. "The time when I was _most_ scared, Isabella...was when I thought I'd lost you."

=PoF=

_Five hours._

_It had taken a five-hour flight and a twenty-minute car ride to get to the doors of the hospital, and still no one had explained to Renee just what the hell had happened to her family._

_Jesus, it may as well have been five years._

_A car crash. An assassination attempt. A bombing._

_Renee's mind flew from one horrendous scenario to the next._

_But still, no-one told her._

_She had remained silent for the entire trip. She'd watched Amy and the security detail come to the hotel suite, pack all of her belongings and then usher her quickly and quietly to the waiting car. She'd been offered food, drink, but no answers._

_Their silence, and their unwillingness to look her directly in the eye, terrified Renee beyond reason._

_Isabella. Charlie. Isabella._

_The thought of something happening to either of them shattered her heart. The thought of never seeing either of them again, made her heart stop._

_No._

_Charlie would never let anything happen to his Isabella. His Beauty._

_He would die for her..._

_Oh, God._

"_Where's my family?" she asked the doctor as soon as he came through the door that led into the large sterile waiting room that she had been placed in. "I need to see my family. Where are they?" She asked forcefully. "Where's Isabella? I need to get to my daughter."_

_The dam of silence broke with angry demands and frightened questions. _

"_Mrs. Swan," the doctor said in that God-awful tone that made the hairs rise on a person's neck._

"_Where is she?" Renee insisted looking past him to the door. "Where is Isabella?"_

"_Mrs. Swan, there was an incident."_

"_An incident?" She whimpered. "I thought it was an accident?_

_Renee wasn't stupid. She knew the weight behind the word that he had chosen to use. 'Accident' suggested that there was no-one to blame. 'Incident' inferred the complete opposite._

"_Your husband-"_

"_Where is he?"_

"_Your husband and your daughter were attacked, Mrs. Swan."_

_Renee stumbled to her left. Strong hands gripped her waist, but the room continued to tilt. She clapped her hands to her mouth to try to keep, not only the vomit at bay, but also the sounds of terror and pain that threatened to rip through her._

"_No…No, not Isabella. Charlie wouldn't…He wouldn't let anyone…Tell me she's alright…"_

_Her ramblings were interrupted by a tall figure slowly entering the room. Agent Ephraim closed the door behind him, keeping his stare fixed on the floor. Renee didn't notice the paleness of his face or the defeat in his shuffling feet as she approached him._

"_What happened?" she demanded._

_He shook his head, but didn't speak._

"_Look at me!" Renee shrieked. "Tell me what the fuck has happened to my family!"_

_At her utterly uncharacteristic curse, Agent Ephraim's dead eyes flickered to hers and all her fears were realised._

_It was then that Renee began to scream._

=PoF=

"I knew that your father would never let anyone hurt you, Isabella. He would have destroyed anyone who tried." She sipped her tea that Nana Boo had made when the tears had started to fall hard and heavy.

"But when Billy looked at me…I was sure that you were…" She clutched her cup tightly. "I was sure that those monsters who had attacked you had taken you from me."

"They didn't," Bella murmured, wiping a stray tear from under her left eye. "I'm here."

"Yes, you are," Renee countered, venom sliding back into her tone, "With _him_."

"For God's sake, Mom," Bella cried in exasperation. "Edward isn't them! He's not a murderer!"

"No, he's a drug dealer. I'm so relieved," Renee replied, distain dripping from every word. Before Bella could retort, she continued. "Do you think your father would be happy that you took a job in a prison, working with the type of men he died saving you from? Do you think he'd be sitting here giving you two his blessing? If you do, you're wrong."

Before Cullen could stop her, Bella shot up from her seat, eyes blazing. "He _gave_ me his blessing, Mom! He gave me his blessing the day we visited his grave, the anniversary of his death."

Renee, despite Phil's hand and urges not to, stood up. "Don't be ridiculous, Isabella. Your father wouldn't stand for it. _I_ am not gong to stand for it!"

"You don't have any say in my life, Mom. I am twenty-five years old! I'm not a child!"

"You are my daughter, and I want you safe!"

"I. AM. SAFE!"

"How can you _say_ that?" Renee asked incredulously before shoving an accusatory finger towards Cullen. "He's a criminal, Isabella; inside for dealing cocaine; stealing cars; carrying _dangerous_ weapons. _He_ is not safe and he is _not_ who I want you with!"

"Enough!"

The room rattled with the deep booming voice of the Yankee hoodie wearing Phil. Cullen looked over at him, fairly fucking speechless that he had shouted as loud as he had, even though he had been mere seconds form doing the exact same thing himself. The fact that Bella and her mother were moments from having a physical throw down in the middle of Nana Boo's sitting room was exactly what Cullen had been dreading. As the two women had slung accusations and anger at one another, Cullen found himself entirely without words. He felt worn and so fucking useless.

It wasn't helped by the fact that everything Renee had said was completely true. Hell, maybe he should have taken comfort from it. At least she wasn't saying anything he didn't already know.

Phil moved from his spot, behind Renee's chair, looking seven shades of pissed. "That is enough from both of you."

Renee sighed. "Phil, I don't think-"

"No, Renee," he interrupted her. "Enough is enough." He rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. "I am so tired of seeing the two of you argue and fight. It breaks my heart." He looked at Bella. "I've never seen you like this. Either of you, and I can't keep my mouth shut any longer."

"I agree," Nana Boo muttered from her seat in the corner of the room. "Renee, I love you, but you need to back off."

"Back off?" Renee repeated. "Your granddaughter is _'in love'_ with a man whose wardrobe is filled with nothing but orange overalls."

Cullen almost snorted at that one. He knew now, without doubt, where Bella got her sass.

"That may be so," Nana Boo retorted angrily. "But what you seem to be oblivious to, is that the more you shout and dig your heels in, the more you will push them together. And if you are not careful, you really will lose her."

Renee blinked at her mother as her words sank in. Bella turned to Cullen with an apologetic expression, but he simply took her hand and squeezed it.

"Isabella, come with Phil and I," Nana Boo instructed as she stood in a tone that denied argument. "Renee and Edward, you two stay here." Her eyes softened when she looked at Cullen. "I'm sure it will be easier for you to talk without an audience."

Renee blanched. "I am not staying in here with him."

"Why?" Nana Boo shot back, "You afraid that he'll try to sell you an eight ball?"

Renee was rendered wide-eyed and mute while Cullen smirked.

"Stay here," Nana Boo ordered, "Talk."

She ushered Bella and Phil out of the room, never taking her eyes from Renee. Cullen couldn't deny that he was surprised Bella hadn't argued, but kept his mouth shut. He kept his eyes on Renee as she paced up and down the Chinese style rug like a caged animal. He glanced at the large, mahogany drinks cabinet across the far side of the room and the large decanter of what he prayed to Jesus was whiskey.

_Bingo._

"Well, I don't know about you," he said with an exhausted groan, as he stood and made his way over to it. "But I need a drink."

He felt Renee's eyes on him as he poured two fingers into a crystal glass and gestured towards her with it.

"No, thank you," she bit back, dropping back into her seat. "It's a little early for me."

Cullen sipped the bourbon and closed his eyes as it slid nice and warm down his throat. Dutch courage never tasted so damned good. He turned back to the room and meandered to his seat. Renee avoided his stare, looking anywhere but him, staying annoyingly but not surprising silent. Fifteen minutes passed in the same manner until Cullen couldn't take it anymore.

"Bella's a lot like you, ya know," he murmured.

Renee looked at him for the first time and cocked an unimpressed eyebrow.

"She is," he continued, "Caring, determined, passionate...Stubborn as all hell."

"If this is your way of getting into my good books," Renee said firmly. "Believe me; it isn't going to happen,"

"Oh, I know that," Cullen agreed. "Like Bella, you don't back down when it comes to things you believe in."

"_Isa_bella doesn't know _what_ she believes in."

"Bullshit."

Renee's eyes widened in shock, "Excuse me?"

"I said bullshit. Bella is the most strong-minded person I know. You don't give her enough credit. What she believes in, she does so without equivocation."

"Impressive language," Renee scoffed.

"Thanks." Cullen smirked. "I had a good teacher."

Renee sat back and crossed her legs. "Yes, you did," she commented, ignoring his reference to Bella's teaching skills. "As I understand it, you had an upstanding education, which you threw away without thought so that you could run around dealing drugs and boosting cars."

"It wasn't quite like that," Cullen remarked as he sipped his drink.

"Semantics. The point is you have been in prison more times than most people in this country go abroad, including your most recent stint for cocaine possession."

Cullen raised his eyebrows in respect. "You've done your homework."

"I love my daughter. Of course I've done my homework."

"Fair enough," Cullen sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. He wound his index finger around the lip of his glass and closed his eyes.

"Would you understand what I meant, if I said that my last time in lock up, in Arthur Kill, was...my pound of flesh?"

Renee frowned. "What?"

"A pound of flesh," he repeated lifting his eyes to hers. "Do you know what that means?"

Looking utterly bewildered, Renee answered, "A debt that must be paid?"

Cullen nodded.

"You dealt cocaine to pay off a debt?"

"No," he replied. "I was _caught _with the cocaine to pay off a debt."

Renee rubbed her forehead in annoyance. "I'm completely confused."

Cullen exhaled and fingered the top of the cigarette box in his jeans pocket. "My best friend, Jacob Black, I was in debt with him."

Renee stayed quiet, waiting.

"When we were sixteen, he saved my life," he explained carefully, "Pushed me out of the way of a bullet. I owed him. Long story short, Jake managed to get into some pretty messed up shit. Fell for the wrong girl who ended up pregnant." He shrugged. "He needed to be with her. He couldn't have done that if he'd been locked up. The coke was a set up. It wasn't his, he had nothing to do with it. Neither of us did. But, I took it from him, and he left to be with his family."

Renee paused briefly, "How noble."

"Not really," Cullen shot back.

Renee waved her hand out dismissively. "And you're telling me this because..."

Cullen shrugged. "Because sometimes things aren't always what they appear to be."

"And sometimes they are _exactly_ as they appear to be. One act of stupidity-"

"No longer nobility?"

"-does not change a damn thing."

"Granted," Cullen conceded. "I know I'm an asshole, I'll be the first one to admit it. I've seen and done things that I wouldn't even tell your daughter about."

"A relationship built on trust from the get-go, huh?" Renee commented with an eye-roll. "Stupendous."

"I'm protecting her."

"You're _lying_."

"Omitting to protect the ones you care about is _not_ lying. Surely _you_ understand that."

Renee ignored his jibe, knowing instantly that he was referring to her silence regarding Charlie's past, and shook her head to clear it.

"Do you have any idea how worried I have been?" She asked venomously. "Have you any idea about the amount of sleep I lost when she began working in that...prison?"

Cullen exhaled heavily down his nose. "I can imagine."

"No!" Renee snapped. "You can't." Her face became red and her eyes fixed on his face, wide and angry. "You have _no_ idea. Being a mother is not easy, especially when your daughter insists on making everything so damned difficult."

"Bella didn't take the job at Kill to make _your_ life difficult," Cullen countered defensively. "She took the job to overcome her fears; to overcome what terrified _her_ and kept _her _awake at night."

"And what do you know about that?" Renee spat.

"Enough." Cullen pursed his lips in an effort to reel himself back in and rested his elbows on his knees. "Look, I know about...her father...I know what happened. Her teaching criminals-"

"Animals."

"-is her own pound of flesh."

"To whom?" Renee asked incredulously.

"To her dad."

Renee's face softened a little and her voice dropped in volume. "What?"

"The night that he...passed...she had promised him that she would give something back. She promised him that she would become a teacher and help people the way that he had done." Cullen looked towards the door that his Peaches had gone through. "She just wanted to keep her promise...to pay her debt."

Renee sat back in her seat and stared towards the window. The snow had started falling again.

"I didn't know that," she whispered.

"Like I said," Cullen murmured. "Things aren't always as they appear."

The softness in Renee's shoulders vanished as she glared back at him. "You'll have to do a lot more to convince me of that."

"Like?"

"Like explaining to me why the hell I had pictures of the two of you sent to my home."

Cullen rubbed the bridge of his nose and grimaced. "It's nothing to worry about," he started.

"Nothing to...Are you serious? These people, whoever they are, are not only following my daughter, but they also know where I live. Believe me, I'm worried."

"All I can tell you is that I have a pretty good idea as to who sent them and that, when I'm through with him, he'll regret the day he ever even looked at Bella."

Renee shifted in her seat, "How masculine. Violence doesn't solve everything, you know," she remarked.

"No," he said quietly. "It doesn't, and I'm not talking about violence, as much as I would like to-" –_rip the fucker's scrotum from his body_- "-hurt him. But, you should know, I wouldn't let anyone or anything harm or endanger her. _Ever_."

"What is it you want?" Renee asked firmly after she had looked at him for a beat, sizing him up, cautious and suspicious as always, "Money?"

Cullen scowled, narrowing his eyes in anger. "What the fuck would I want money for?"

"Well, why else are you doing all of this?" She asked incredulously, waving her hand around herself. "_'Harm or endanger'_? The only danger I see here is _you_ and, to be frank, this grandstanding and showboating is getting you absolutely nowhere!"

Cullen took a deep breath to calm himself, speaking as clearly as his temper would allow. "I'm doing this because I'm in love with Bella. I am doing this because I want to do everything right. I'm doing this because she wants to be with me and I want to be with her-"

"You barely know one another! You think because she's told you a few secrets that you know her?"

"I know her better than you think."

"Oh, please!" she snapped. "You've known her, what, five months?"

Cullen fixed her with a stare that made Renee swallow hard. "Try sixteen years."

=PoF=

_The first thing that Renee noticed as she walked into the large, dimly lit room was the smell._

_It was disinfectant; a sickly sweet disinfectant every hospital used to try to mask the stench of death._

_Except this time, it failed._

_She _could_ smell it. It crept silently into her nose, slithered down her throat and settled like a tumour in her lungs. It was a poison, permeating her entire body. She was sure that she could feel it seeping noiselessly into her pores, infecting her body with pain, grief, and sorrow._

_She stepped forward, her heels clicking on the sterile floor, towards the body that lay covered by a bland hospital sheet. The body was disturbingly still; no lifting of the chest as a breath was took; no sleep twitches or murmurs of someone who was deep in slumber._

_Nothing._

_Just silent, unnatural stillness._

_With her hands clasped tightly at her front, Renee took the last three steps towards him and waited for the doctor to pull the sheet back. The doctor looked at Renee, his face filled with sympathy and patience._

_Taking a huge breath, Renee looked down at the sheet through tear-filled eyes and nodded infinitesimally for him to pull it back._

_The sound that left her when he did was stuttered, animal, and pained. Her hand found her mouth quickly to stop it, while her other gripped the side of the table Charlie laid on._

_Charlie._

_Her precious, handsome, peaceful Charlie._

_The father of her child; her soul mate; lover; best friend._

_The man who made her laugh until she cried._

_The man who showed her how epic love could be._

_The man whose smile made her heart flutter and her knees weak._

_The man who filled every room with light and warmth._

_The man who would lay his life down for his family._

_The man who was now pale and cold._

_Quiet. Still. _

_Barely keeping a hold of her emotions, Renee dropped her hand from her mouth and, tentatively, let her fingertips skim lightly over his pallid, clearly shattered cheek._

_The police had advised her not to see him._

_They thought that it would be too distressing, as though losing her husband wasn't distressing in itself. She'd argued. She wanted to see her husband. _Needed_ to see her husband._

_They had agreed, albeit reluctantly, and warned her about his injuries._

_Prepare yourself, they said._

_He had died of severe brain trauma. Struck so hard and so violently that his brain had bled, they said._

_Haemorrhaged._

_He had died at the scene. He had died on a sidewalk miles away from home. _

_The FBI told her that the 'men' who had attacked her family had hit Charlie repeatedly with a baseball bat, their hands, and their feet, and the poppy bruise on the side of his temple was evidence of that._

_It was a wonder that Isabella had managed to get away, they said. Isabella had said someone helped her, but no one was found at the scene. Imagine, Renee had heard Amy say, imagine what would have happened if they hadn't helped her..._

_Renee swallowed back the bile that had risen to the back of her throat, and looked down at her husband, while her body shook with heartbreak._

_There were deep, purple marks across his broad nose and under his eyes, and a thick cut that ran through the centre of his bottom lip. She let her eyes travel down to his blackened collarbone, and to his arms that were unmarked._

_His knuckles, however, were scabbed, swollen, and battered._

_Renee picked up his hand and kissed the injuries softly. He'd fought so hard to keep their baby safe._

_Her hand skimmed gently across his injured ribs and rested on his sternum, willing his chest to move. Willing him to take a breath and sit up. Willing him to take her into his arms, kiss her, and tell her that everything was okay._

_But he never did._

"_Charlie," she whispered through tears. "Oh, Charlie, what did they do to you?"_

_She stroked his thick, dark hair. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry."_

_She was sorry for so much. She was sorry that she hadn't been there. She was sorry that he'd left Agent Ephraim. She was sorry that Isabella would grow up without her father, never knowing the full extent of his love for her._

_Isabella. Beautiful Isabella._

_The grief gripped her chest, making it hard to breathe_

"_Isabella is okay," she continued shakily, wiping her face of the torrent of tears that fell. "You saved her, Sweetheart. She's okay. She...She has a few cuts on her knees...a sore cheek. She keeps asking for you." She paused, trying to catch her breath. "They found her in a doorway. She said someone took her there, but...you couldn't have..."_

_She cupped his cheek tenderly. "I haven't told her, Charlie. I...I don't know how. How can I tell her that you are...That she will never see you again? How can I tell her that you'll never speak to her again?_ I'll_ never...speak to you..."_

_She hiccoughed and closed her eyes as the hysteria began to rise through her like a tidal wave._

"_How can I protect her without you, Charlie? I can't. But if I lost her too, I..." She heaved. "I can't do it. I can't do this alone," she whimpered feeling the devastation weaken her beyond measure. "We need you. Please. _I_ need you."_

_Her knees finally buckled and she landed on them heavily with her head resting on Charlie's right forearm._

"_I love you," she sobbed into his skin, placing desperate kisses in the crook of his elbow, as she breathed him in. "I love you so much, Charlie. Oh, God."_

_She looked up the ceiling and prayed with every inch of her soul. "Oh, God, please, help me. Please. Please. Help me."_

=PoF=

Renee's eyes flickered all over Cullen's face. Her expression fierce yet puzzled.

Cullen stared right back at her, waiting for the penny to drop.

Yeah, it was a big ask, but hell, at this point what did he have to lose? He hadn't wanted his role in saving Bella to be the deciding factor as to whether or not Renee would accept him with her daughter, but the damn woman had driven him to it with her incapacity to see him without a list of demeanours and felonies tacked to his fucking forehead.

Jesus, he'd even brought up the fact that he went to prison for Jacob, and no-one but he and Jake knew about that shit. He wouldn't have mentioned it, but shit, he'd felt backed into a corner with no way out.

Cullen had been so desperate for Renee to see him in a better light that he had nothing else to lay on the table.

But even that little nugget of information had had little sway over her, leaving him little choice but to tell her who he really was and to let the chips fall where they may. Cullen was under no illusions, he knew that it could backfire badly, but truthfully, his ass had run out of options.

And whiskey.

He stood slowly and returned to the cabinet, where he filled his glass and took two generous sips before he sat back down.

Renee stayed silent, watching him carefully, warily.

Cullen had no idea what the hell she was thinking. Maybe she was trying to catch him in a lie. Maybe she had misheard him.

_No_. No way.

The speed at which the colour had drained from her face made it clear that she had heard every word.

Renee's chest rose and fell quickly and, when she spoke, her voice shook. Cullen couldn't decide whether it was because she was angry or upset. He hoped for the latter. Anger didn't suit her. It aged her.

"How have you known her for sixteen years?" she asked slowly. "There is no possible way...No way..."

Her voice trailed off, not wanting to understand what her brain was telling her, but her eyes told Cullen that the pieces were falling into place. Her stubbornness was the only thing that was stopping her from seeing what was right in front of her.

"We met...in Brooklyn," Cullen said quietly, communicating as much as he could through his eyes. "She was nine. I was almost eleven."

Renee placed a hand against her chest and blinked. Panic washed across her features, but it quickly changed to a number of emotions that were as indiscernible as they were fleeting. She was warring with herself now; battling with what she believed - he was a hardened, dangerous criminal - and the actual truth - he saved her daughter's life.

"The news," Renee stammered. "It was all over the news. Everyone knows where they were that night. _Everyone_ knows what happened."

"It was freezing," Cullen carried on, ignoring her accusation that he was a liar. "I was having a smoke and I heard a scream."

Renee closed her eyes, and Cullen watched as two huge tears slid helplessly down her cheeks.

"I was across the street, but I saw everything; the punks with the bat, Bella...your husband. Christ, it happened so damned fast," he recollected, staring towards his hands that had, at some point retrieved a cigarette and lighter from his pocket.

_Fuck it._ He lit the thing and inhaled. He felt instantly calmed.

"He...Charlie, was on the floor. They hit him with the bat, kicked him. He tried to fight back, but...there were too many of them for one man."

Renee made a strangled sound and clapped a hand to her mouth. Her eyes clenched shut and she shook her head.

"Stop," she whimpered.

"Bella was about two feet away," Cullen continued, lost in the memory. "She was on the floor dazed from when the asshole had hit her."

"Stop," Renee repeated with no conviction. "It...can't be."

Cullen ignored her. "She was wearing a blue dress."

"Oh, Jesus," Renee sobbed gently, dropping her face into her hands.

"It was dirty from the sidewalk, ripped at the sleeve. Charlie screamed at her to run," Cullen sighed, shaking his head. "He begged her over and over, but she didn't listen. I swear to God, she kept going back, and I knew that...if those fuckers got a hold of her...they'd have killed her."

Renee looked up at him finally; tears spilling down her face, making it glisten and shine.

"Something," Cullen explained with a hand on his stomach and his eyes on the floor. "Something in here...deep in here...as ridiculous as it sounds...it told me to help her. I just couldn't watch them hurt her...it was just so fucking wrong."

If he'd known then what he knew now, seeing Bella die would have surely killed him.

"Yo-...You..." Renee hiccoughed unable to form a full sentence.

"I ran to her," Cullen said as he blew out a lungful of smoke. "Grabbed her arm and ran. I had to drag her ass most of the way. She was _so_ strong." He rubbed his index finger through his eyebrow. "She was small, but she fought, ya know? She hit me, ran from me, and I had...I had to tackle her to the floor."

Renee wrapped her arms around herself.

"There was gunfire and she screamed and all I could do was hold her to the damned floor and make sure that she didn't run back. I just...couldn't let her go back. I figured, i was doing what her old man wanted. I was doing something good."

He extinguished his cigarette in the glass of water that Bella had left and ran his hands through his hair.

"Bella's the only good thing that I have ever done in my entire fucked up life."

He looked over at Renee and, for the length of two heartbeats; they finally understood one another. They had found their common ground. They both existed for the same reason, and, with that realisation clearing the room of the horrifically suffocating blanket of fear and anger, they both found it easier to breathe.

"Where...Where did you take her?" Renee croaked.

"A doorway," Cullen answered with a modest shrug. "This old ass building about two blocks down. Once she stopped fighting me, she cried and cried until she fell asleep."

"And you left her?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I couldn't. I just...held her. Stroked her hair, and tried to keep her as calm as I could."

"But...you disappeared," Renee said as she wiped a tissue discreetly under her nose.

Cullen gave a wry smile. "I stayed with her for as long as I could. I had a name already with the police, they knew who I was from shit that Jake and I had done, and I knew if they caught me I'd have to answer questions so..."

"You ran."

Cullen sighed, "Yeah."

"Where did you go?"

"Back to my friend's house."

"And you told them about it."

Cullen frowned in confusion. "No. Not at all. I never told anyone," he stated matter-of-factly. "I never told anyone until I told Bella."

Renee looked towards the doorway. "She knows?"

"Yeah, of course, I had to tell her."

"How did she take it?"

Cullen gave a genuine smile, "In her own way. But...I'm here, right?"

Renee looked back at him. "Yes, you are."

Cullen exhaled and rubbed his face with a weary hand. "Look, I'm not stupid; I know that we're never going to be the best of friends. I know that you'll never see me as good enough for her, because I know that myself, but I hope that...fuck, I didn't tell you that shit to win points, that's not why I'm here. I told you because I wanted you to see that I would never, ever hurt her. She's everything to me...she's my...everything. I don't know."

He shrugged. "And I want you and Bella to go back to the way you were before my punkass got involved. I hate that I caused this."

Renee's face glimmered with hope of the same thing as she said, "It wasn't _just_ you. We're all to blame in some part."

Cullen dropped his chin at her words. She wasn't taking entire responsibility, but hell it was a damn good start.

"I just want you to know," he breathed. "I_ need_ you to know that I'm not here to do anything...but love your daughter."

Cullen was shocked as shit to see a timid smile play across Renee's mouth. "You know," she said wistfully. "You sound like Charlie when you talk like that. He had to convince my father that he was good enough for me."

"And did he?"

Renee nodded and look towards the window. "I think so."

Cullen shuffled forward to the edge of his seat. "Have I convinced you?"

Renee took a deep breath and licked her lips. Cullen was astounded at the speed in which his heart was racing.

"My daughter is too much like me for her own good," she began. "You were right about that, and I can see how much she loves you." Her cheeks washed with an embarrassed pink. "I didn't want to see it...but...it's clear as day."

Cullen felt his lungs squeeze and watched as Renee regained her enduring stoicism and stood from her seat.

"Having said that, I cannot overlook the fact that Isabella is putting too much at risk by being with you," she said firmly. "And I can't overlook the fact that there are things going on here, like _pictures_, that make me insanely nervous and anxious about my daughter's well-being."

Cullen opened his mouth to protest but Renee held up her palm, halting his words.

"I need _you_ to know that Isabella is the most precious thing in my life. She always has been. If _anything _happened to her...I don't know what I would do."

Cullen nodded. He knew exactly how she felt. If Bella ever ceased to be then so would he.

"But you saved her, didn't you?"

Cullen swallowed, "Yes, Ma'am."

"You saved her when her father couldn't, and if you hadn't been there, then I would have lost Isabella too."

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Renee repeated. "So where does that leave us?"

Cullen smirked. "I believe it's called an impasse."

"I believe it is."

"And that's a start, right?"

Renee nodded but her face gave nothing away. "I guess so."

Cullen looked towards the doorway again before slowly getting to his feet. He pushed his hands into his pockets and gestured with his head in Bella's direction.

"I'm...I'll go and see if she's okay."

Renee didn't reply, but kept her eyes on him as he walked steadily across the room.

"Edward."

Cullen stopped dead at the sound of his first name. He clenched his eyes shut for a brief moment before turning back to her with a rock in his gut and a desert in his throat, "Yeah?"

She didn't move from her place by the window, watching the snow as it fell silently.

"Thank you," she whispered, "From the bottom of my heart, Edward, thank you for saving Isabella's life."

**Holy Team Nana Boo, Batman!**

**Next update will be as and when...**

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	41. Chapter 41

**Hello all! **

**Yes, this is an update, however, it is vastly shorter than all the other updates, but I am still on vacation. I wanted to post something before I travel home and get ready for school.**

**Thank you so much for your patience.**

**The girls on Twitter, you're all amazing! The Philly brunch crew and the Sushi sweethearts in the West Village, you rock my world ladies! Thank you!**

**A short one, but a twisty, lemony one.**

**See you on the other side…**

_"In a word, I was too cowardly to do what I knew to be right, as I had been too cowardly to avoid doing what I knew to be wrong." ~ __**Charles Dickens (Great Expectations)**_

**Chapter 40: Great Expectations**

Once Edward had left the sitting room, Renee found herself lost in deep thought, staring out of her mother's front window, watching the white, silent snow as it fell to the ground; crisp, clean, and beautiful.

She blinked slowly, keeping her eyes shut for longer than was usual, picturing the face of the man who had been her everything for nearly twenty years. She loved Phil with all of her heart; save for the one piece that would forever belong to Charlie Swan.

That small but undeniable part gave a stuttering clench in her chest, causing two large tears to fall down her face.

Taking a deep breath, she looked towards the grey snow filled sky and tried to smile.

"You knew, didn't you?" She whispered. "You knew that he saved her." She dropped her chin to her chest, feeling her smile widen as she imagined Charlie's smug grin.

Isabella had told Renee that her father had given the relationship she had with Edward, his blessing. Renee, although still very much apprehensive and wary of the man who had stolen Isabella's heart was not surprised. Now that she knew about Edward's role in the worst night of her family's life, she felt resigned to give her own.

Renee wiped at her face and looked over her shoulder to the sound of faint laughter and the closing of a door. She had to give Edward his due. He had stood his ground, never wavering. He had spoken articulately - save for a few curses - and showed the unquestionable love and protective loyalty that he had for Isabella. Renee wasn't lying when she told Edward that she hadn't wanted to see the love between them. It was what scared her the most.

Her only daughter, her last link to Charlie, was putting herself in such danger.

Nana Boo had pooh-poohed her concerns and had, since Isabella had walked out of the house, tried to describe it - the connection between them - using clichés and emphatic words that left Renee equal parts joyous and terrified. The dichotomy of emotion was exhausting.

Renee sighed and wrapped her arms around herself.

Clichés they may have been, but, when Renee had seen the two of them together herself, she knew that everyone had been appropriate.

The fire that burned between Isabella and Edward was hot and ferocious, and was present in every glance, touch, and movement. They moved around one another like magnets, attracting, fluid, and coming together with such ease and familiarity that it had astounded Renee.

"They are so like us," she continued, whispering towards the window. "_He_ is so like you."

Renee couldn't deny it: her daughter was head over heels in love with Edward Cullen. It was a love that many never found and no one could ever extinguish. It was a love that was deep, far-reaching, powerful, and all consuming. Renee could see it in Isabella's eyes when she looked at him and when she glared at her in his defense. It was the same look Renee had given her father an insurmountable number of times, when she had first introduced Charlie to the family.

It was a love that she could only have dreamed of for her only daughter, and that was the problem inherent.

An impasse indeed.

Renee wanted nothing more than for her daughter to be loved in passionate, breathtaking ways. She wanted her consumed by love, desperate with it, unafraid to be made fragile by it, and filled with its strength. She wanted her to soar and spin, and lose herself in a man that would love her just as much.

She wanted it all for Isabella, and she had it. The man in question, however, could not have been further from the man Renee had imagined.

She rubbed her face with a weary hand and turned from the window, leaving her love for Charlie with a fingertip pressed lightly against the frigid glass. She walked slowly across the room, hearing the voices of Trevor, Phil, and her mother. They all sounded so casual, carefree, and entirely unworried about the situation, that Renee felt a momentary pang of jealousy.

Of course, after hearing Edward's confession, Renee's anxiety about the relationship had dropped considerably. The man had saved her baby for God's sake. At the age of eleven years old, Edward Cullen had put himself in danger to save a stranger, _her daughter_, simply because he had had…_a feeling_. The whole situation was bizarre. Renee was grateful beyond description, she'd told Edward so, but the momma bear within her refused to back down.

She wandered into the kitchen to find her mother, Phil and Trevor seated around a table that was covered in snacks and drinks. Two bottles of wine sat opened, as well as a bottle of Jamesons. Her mother looked up at her. Her face still disappointed, but softer.

"Hey," Renee whispered as she looked quickly at the back of Phil's head. He remained looking forwards, unmoving.

"Hey," Nana Boo replied. "Are you alright?"

Renee nodded minutely. "As alright as I can be." She looked around the kitchen. "Where is-"

"She's outside with Edward while he has a much needed cigarette." Nana Boo sighed. "Come and have a drink," she offered, standing from her seat.

Nana Boo glanced meaningfully towards Phil and gestured discreetly to Trevor to make himself scarce, which he did by stating that he needed the bathroom.

Renee approached Phil with a heavy feeling in her stomach. It was love. It was guilt. It was embarrassment. It was apology.

She sat down slowly and stared at his profile. His jaw was flecked with dark stubble, and his dark brown eyes looked troubled and angry as they stared down at the glass of malt whiskey in his hands.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

He remained silent.

Renee dropped her chin to her chest and fiddled with the edge of her sweater. "I'm…I'm so sorry, Phil."

He exhaled heavily down his nose and sat back in his seat still clutching his drink. "What are you sorry for, Renee?" His voice was tired and deep.

"A lot of things," she replied honestly.

He shook his head. "Not good enough."

Renee blinked at him in surprise. Phil had never been one to voice his opinions unless forced; being so laid back that he was almost horizontal, so to hear him sound so angered made Renee's heart clench. It was new and scary. Much like everything else, which was going on around her.

"You need to be more specific, Renee," he continued as he sipped his drink. "What are you sorry for?"

Renee licked her lips and looked towards the ceiling. "I'm sorry for…being such…a bitch. I'm sorry that I shouted at you, at Isabella. I'm sorry that I made my own mother upset. And I'm sorry that…that I'm becoming a person I never wanted to be."

Finally, Phil looked at her. His stare was profound but loving. "Do you have any idea how much I love you and Isabella?" He asked quietly, "Any idea at all?"

She nodded slowly, remorsefully. Of course, she knew. She knew because he told them both all the time. She knew because she loved him just as much and, although he would never take Charlie's spot in the eyes of her daughter, Renee knew that Isabella looked up to him and loved him dearly.

"I'm sorry," she repeated with her eyes downcast. "I'm sorry and I love you too. So much."

"Look at me," he ordered. She obeyed immediately. "Renee, I have never known anyone as stubborn-minded and determined as you. It's what I fell in love with first. But, you have to stop pushing those that love you away. And I don't just mean Isabella. I'm talking about me too."

"I know," Renee whimpered. "I know, I'm just-"

"Scared," he interrupted. "Terrified to the point of sickness, I know. And I know why you feel that way, but, Renee; even you must see that he adores her." He gestured towards the back door. "He would do anything for her," he added. "Even face you."

That comment made Renee smile.

"I hate seeing you and Isabella fight," he continued solemnly. "I truly hate it, Renee. It's not how you should be. You love each other very much and you above all should know that life is too short to be so damned angry."

Renee placed her hand gingerly onto Phil's thigh, needing the contact.

He looked back at his drink and sighed. "I know that I'll never be Charlie, Renee."

"Phil, don't-"

"No, it's fine," he countered evenly. "I knew from the moment we met that there would always be a part of you that would never be mine, and I'm okay with that, as long as I get the rest of you."

Renee nodded as she cried tears of pain and regret for the wonderful man before her. She knew that she didn't deserve him or his love and understanding. She had been so lucky, and yet, she had been so blind to what she was doing: pushing him away.

"You have me," she whispered. "I love you, Phil. I'm so sorry."

He looked back at her and smiled with the right side of his mouth. "Don't be sorry," he murmured. "Just be the Renee who I know and love."

From the soft timbre of his voice, Renee knew that she was forgiven, but the darkness in his eyes told her that it would take time for him to forget. It was a warning that she needed to understand and heed. She couldn't lose Phil. She loved him too damned much. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his.

"I love you," she repeated.

"I know," he replied as he cupped her face. "Now go and tell your daughter the same."

Renee nodded and looked hesitantly at the back door. "I don't know how," she confessed.

"Yes, you do," Phil encouraged.

"We seem so far apart from each other."

"Be honest." He pulled his hoodie over his head and handed it to her. "It's cold out there."

She took a deep breath, squeezed Phil's thigh, and stood from her seat. Harry's nails tapped happily against the floor as he followed her to the door. Turning back to Phil, Renee dragged on his hoodie – loving the smell and the fact that it drowned her small frame – and slowly pulled the door open. Her eyes immediately found two closely huddled bodies sitting on the porch step.

Edward had his arm around Isabella as she leaned into him, while his lips murmured soft, inaudible words against her temple. The air smelled of smoke and cold. As the door clicked shut behind Renee, Edward turned to look at her. His face, half hidden in shadow, did not give anything away, although his eyes no longer held the frustration that Renee had seen so frequently, as they had spoken.

Renee dipped her chin in acknowledgment before Edward did the same. Isabella looked back at her, her face unreadable. Edward kissed Isabella's cheek and smiled gently. "I'll give you two a moment," he said before he stood from his seat and walked towards Renee.

She looked at him with gratitude, as he moved around her to the door. "Thank you," she breathed. Edward blinked once in reply.

The door shut behind him, the sound of the deadbolt catching, echoed around the silent garden. Renee swallowed and took a deep breath before she took three tentative steps towards her daughter.

"May I sit?" She asked.

"If you want," Isabella answered noncommittally.

Renee licked her lips, gathering her courage, and took the spot at her side. For a few minutes the two women sat in absolute silence, both unable to verbalize their feelings, but for two very different reasons.

"Isabella," Renee started quietly, sequencing her thoughts and words into an appropriate order. She was petrified of saying the wrong thing. "I…I love you very much, sweetheart."

Isabella remained quiet. She didn't move. Renee couldn't read the profile of her face except for the small twitch at the side of her mouth. Charlie would get the same thing when he was nervous or anxious. The thought that she made her own daughter feel that way made Renee feel physically sick.

"I wanted to come out here…and apologize to you." A heavy breath escaped from between her lips in a whirl of grey that lifted up into the air around them. She sighed and closed her eyes. "I just want us to go back to the way things were, Isabella. I hate fighting with you."

Isabella swallowed and looked down at her hands that were wrapped in the coat that Nana Boo had given her so that she didn't get cold.

"We're never going to be the way we were, Mom," she uttered. "Too much has happened."

Renee held back the words of panic that wrestled at the back of her throat. "I understand if you don't want to try-"

Isabella's head snapped towards her. "It's not that I don't want to try, Mom. Don't put this on me. It's the fact that you can't bare to be in the same room as the man that I love." She scoffed sarcastically. "Funnily enough, I have a major problem with that."

Renee stared at her daughter, wordless and frustrated.

"Edward and I come as a package now, Mom," Isabella continued. "We're in this together; him and me. And if you can't deal with that, then there is no hope for us to ever go back to how we used to be."

Renee rubbed her hands down her face, willing her fear and doubt down into her stomach. "I understand, Isabella."

"No," Isabella countered. "You don't." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Just because he told you about saving me doesn't mean that you understand what Edward and I are to one another."

"Then explain it to me," Renee urged. She wanted to understand. Needed to. She couldn't lose her daughter.

Isabella looked momentarily stunned at her mother's words. Astonished really didn't cover it. "I love him more than I could ever explain," she began firmly. Her voice never wavered in its fervency "He's everything to me. He makes me laugh, he keeps me safe, and he loves me too."

"I know he does," Renee agreed quietly. It was written all over the pair of them. Love like that was undeniable.

"He's honest, sensitive, loyal, and one of the bravest men I've ever known." Isabella looked up towards the sky with a small smile. "And I want to be with him for the rest of my life."

Although Renee's heart gave a panicked thump, Isabella's words really didn't surprise her. Of course she wanted to be with him forever. He was her other half, just as Charlie had been hers. How could she deny her daughter the one thing she had wanted for her since the day that she was born?

Isabella wrapped her arms around her knees. "How does that make you feel, Mom? How does it make you feel that some day that man in there, whom you regard so hatefully will be my husband, the father of my children?"

Renee pushed her hands under her arms and stared out towards the gardens, picturing her own grandchildren as they ran about the trees and flowers. She saw Isabella in a simple white gown with wild flowers in her hair, walking with Phil down a path of white magnolias towards Edward who would no doubt look devastatingly handsome in a black suit and white shirt that would be unbuttoned at the neck.

It seemed so simple, so natural. And, in that moment, Renee knew that it was inevitable. "It makes me feel…terrified," she confessed in a whisper.

Isabella's eyes flashed angrily. "Why?" She demanded. "Why does the thought of my being happy scare you so damned much?"

Renee looked at her daughter, so beautiful, strong, and determined and smiled. "It terrifies me because…you're not my little girl anymore."

Isabella blinked twice, seemingly confused by her mother's statement. "What?"

Renee moved closer to her and tenderly moved Isabella's hair from her shoulder so that it spilled gloriously down her back.

"Isabella, I have made some very bad choices during my life, not least the ones regarding how to handle your career choice and…man choice, and for that, I am truly sorry. But, please understand me when I say that I was just being your mother, and that when you have children of your own, you'll know exactly what that means."

"Before your father died I would have walked into hell and taken Satan on with my bare hands should anyone have threatened to hurt you. That's what a mother does. She protects her children no matter what the consequences."

She paused and cupped Isabella's face. "After your father died…knowing that my only connection to him was you…well, it scared the living hell out of me. I wanted to keep you protected, safe, away from anything or anyone who could hurt you…or take you from me."

Renee felt her eyes fill with tears when she felt Isabella's face drop slightly into her palm.

"It's not an excuse for my behavior, Isabella. And believe me when I say that I never meant to hurt you, but I hope you can see a little more as to why I acted the way that I did."

She trailed her index finger along Isabella's jaw. "You are so like your father. You are so strong. So much stronger than me, and I don't give you enough credit for that. I'm sorry. I know that it'll take time for you to trust me again…I just hope that you can. It's hard for me to let go for so many reasons. I just…want you to be safe and happy, Isabella. That's all your father and I ever wanted."

"I know, Mom," Isabella croaked. "I am. I'm happy with Edward. He keeps me safe."

Renee nodded and placed a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead. "I know, sweetheart. I know."

Feeling that the moment was right and that she had said all that she could, Renee lifted from her seat at Isabella's side and moved back towards the house.

"Mom?"

She turned slowly. "Yes, Isabella?"

"I love you too."

=PoF=

Having cancelled their flight until the following morning due to Nana Boo's insistence, Isabella wandered up her grandmother's staircase to her old room feeling battle worn and emotional. Her conversation with her mother had been intense, but deep down she knew that they had laid the foundations of a reconciliation that, no matter how frail, was so much more than she could have hoped for.

She hadn't been surprised when Edward had told her that the night of her father's death had come up during his conversation with her mother. Isabella wasn't sure how to feel about it; much like Edward. Having discussed it briefly beforehand, they hadn't wanted the fact that he had saved her life to be used as some kind of point winning technique, but, similarly, it had been the most important card that Edward had had to play.

Isabella couldn't deny the relief that she had felt when Edward had come into the kitchen, wrapped his arms around her, and assured her that everything was okay. Once again he had come through for her. He had stepped up, been braver than she could ever give him credit for, and shown just how much he loved her.

Her breath caught. She loved him so very much.

She pushed open the bedroom door to find Edward lying on the bed, playing with his phone, dressed in only his boxer briefs with his legs crossed at the ankles. He looked incredibly sexy, and Isabella didn't even _try_ to hide the way her eyes moved hungrily down the length of his long, lean body. He looked over to her and smiled with the right side of his mouth, reading her mind and body exactly.

"Hey," he murmured as his head leaned back against the bed's headboard.

"Hey," she replied with a smile. Locking the door, she pulled her sweater over her head and made her way towards him.

"You alright?" he asked, placing his phone onto the side table and reaching for her hand.

"Yeah," she answered with a slow nod. "Tired."

"Me too," he offered, opening his arms. "Come here."

She loved the feel of his eyes on her as she undressed down to her underwear and crawled onto the bed next to him, rolling onto her side so that he could spoon her. She pushed her fingers through his that rested on her waist and closed her eyes when he moved her hair to the side and kissed the nape of her neck softly. For the first time in a long time, Isabella felt as though she could breathe.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he replied quietly, moving his lips across her shoulder. "Are you really alright?"

"Yeah," she said honestly. "I'm just so thankful for what you did today. Thank you."

"You're welcome, baby. But you know you don't need to thank me, right? I did it for both of us."

"I know. But thank you anyway." She kissed the back of his hand and snuggled backwards, closer to his warm body. "It meant so much to me."

He sighed and pushed his body nearer, molding his broad chest against her delicate spine. "I think it did some good." He kissed her neck below her jaw.

"Me too."

Isabella leaned her head back against Edward's chest as he moved their joined hands over her stomach, dipping them towards the edge of her panties. His fingertips left a line of fire around her bellybutton and awoke her in places that began to sing and throb for his touch. It felt like forever since they had been together.

"Can I ask you something?" He growled as she arched her back, pushing her ass into his crotch. She moaned lightly when she felt that he was hard.

"Yes."

"Did you…mean what you said, you know, to your mom?"

His hands skimmed the underside of her bra and whispered teasingly across the red lace that covered her taut nipples.

"Which part?" she asked, winding her hips languidly against him.

"The part about me…" he began, cautiously, breathing evenly. "About us…about me…one day…being…your _husband_."

Isabella's eyes shot open and her body became still in his strong arms. He sensed her hesitation immediately and paused his hands and their hypnotic seduction.

_Shit._ How could he have…?

"Peaches?"

"Mmhm."

"Are you alright?"

"You heard that?"

She felt him move slightly, nervously. He cleared his throat. "Well, yeah, I…I mean, I wasn't eaves dropping or some shit, Bella. I was putting your Nana's plate in the sink and…I heard you through the kitchen window." He sighed and loosened his grip on her hand. "I'm sorry. Fuck."

Isabella's heart ricocheted against her ribs when he moved away from her, leaving her back cold and her chest empty. Panic gripped her from head to toe. What the hell was she meant to say?

Of course she had meant every word that she had said to her mother, _every_ word, but dammit, she hadn't wanted Edward to hear it for the simple reason that she was terrified he would freak out. Seriously, most guys would run the fuck in the opposite direction if children and marriage were talked about after only five months into a relationship. Yes, theirs was nothing like most relationships, nor was Edward anything like most guys. Theirs was a love that couldn't be described. And Edward? Jesus, he was magnificently exceptional.

Maybe she'd underestimated his reaction? He hadn't sounded opposed to the idea when he'd asked, but neither did he sound happy. He'd sounded…uncertain? Timid?

Gathering herself and taking a huge breath, Isabella rolled slowly onto her back and then onto her side, finding Edward on_ his_ back with his forearm covering his eyes. His mouth was formed into a hard line and his jaw twitched and moved every time he clenched his teeth. He was pissed.

Isabella sat up, crossing her legs while picking at her right thumb cuticle with her left.

"I meant…everything I said, Edward," she whispered. "I meant it with everything that I am."

She watched his chest rise with a deep breath, but his forearm remained covering the one window she had into his soul.

"You don't have to lie, Bella," he retorted venomously. "It's fine."

Isabella blanched, feeling her pulse spike. "What?"

"I said you don't have to fucking lie, okay? Please. It's insulting."

Annoyance and fear careened down Isabella's spine. Pushing up quickly, she threw her leg over his waist, straddling him.

"Hey," she snapped, pulling her hair into a ponytail over her left shoulder. "Look at me."

He scoffed. "Why?"

"Because I need you to. Please."

With a muttered curse, Edward moved his arm from the front of his face to behind his head, but his gaze settled firmly on the ceiling. _Pigheaded ass._

"Look. At. Me," Isabella ordered through tight lips.

She waited as patiently as she could for his beautiful green eyes to move slowly and stubbornly to her face. When they met hers they were etched with hurt and were very much afraid.

"Baby," she whispered as her fingertips touched his right cheek. "Why would you think, after everything that we have been through, I would lie about something like that?"

Her question was answered with a half assed shrug. Isabella grit her teeth and sighed.

"The answer is I didn't and I wouldn't." She traced his bottom lip with her thumb. "I want all of that with you."

Edward frowned. "If that's true, then why the hell did you just react the way you did when I asked about that shit, Bella?"

Isabella closed her eyes briefly and moved her hands to his chest where she splayed her fingers out through the sporadic course hair that lay between his nipples.

"Bella?"

"I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of you freaking out."

His frown turned from annoyed to confused. "Why the fuck would I freak out?"

Isabella blinked at him in surprise. "Because we've only been together five months," she replied timidly. "And…we're," she gestured weakly between their bodies. "You're…You know...and…"

"And what?" Edward huffed.

"And I didn't know whether you wanted the same things as me," Isabella confessed quickly in a brusque, embarrassed voice. "I don't know what you want in the future. I don't know whether you'll still want me or want to be with me or…Shit, I don't know, Edward."

Deep down Isabella knew that her fears were without merit, and saying them out loud made them sound immature and unreasonable. Especially when she saw the hurt look on Edward's face. She gasped in surprise when he grabbed her hips roughly before he sat up straight so that they were nose to nose.

"Let me ask you something," he growled angrily. "Do you have any fucking idea of how much I love you?"

Isabella exhaled heavily down her nose and licked her lips. "Edward, I-…"

"No," he interrupted sharply. "Answer the question, Bella."

Her shoulders slumped in defeat when she saw the passionate fervency in his eyes and felt the desperation in the grip of his hands on her skin. Her stare fixed on the small, perfect mole on his collarbone.

"Yes," she murmured with a lump of emotion lodged in her throat. "I know how much you love me."

"And do you know that I'd do just about anything for you, to keep you, to make you happy?"

Isabella nodded minutely.

"Then tell me," he said firmly. "On what planet, in what universe, would you ever think that I wouldn't want you forever, as my Peaches, my Bella," he lifted her chin with two fingers. "Or my wife?"

His beautiful face was blurred suddenly by the influx of teas that filled Isabella's eyes.

"You…you would want that?" she stammered.

"If you would have an asshole like me," he answered carefully. "I don't know what kind of husband I would make, Bella." His face became anxious. "Or father."

Isabella slid her hands up his chest to his strong shoulders and placed a soft, promising kiss on his worried lips.

"You'd be incredible as both, baby," she assured him. "I just know it."

She felt his lips curve into a slight smile as his fingers danced up her spine. She sighed when they became tangled in her hair and he moved her head to the left so that he could deepen their kiss and push his tongue into her mouth. Her skin heated immediately with every nerve ending sparking with lust.

"You want to make a baby with me one day?" he asked when their mouths parted.

Isabella was astounded by the white heat that flooded between her thighs at his words. "Yes," she purred.

The smile that crossed his face was devilish as his mouth disappeared between her breasts. "And you'd want to marry me?"

"If…you…uh, gave me a large, sparkly ring and asked me nicely…ah…I'd think about it. Maybe."

She smiled into his hair when she felt him laugh into her skin.

"Fair enough," he kissed into her neck.

"How about," Isabella panted. "For now, we just have some amazing sex?"

She moaned loudly when his hands cupped her breasts and he lifted his hips so that he pushed and rubbed her in all of the right places.

"I thought you'd never ask," he snarled before he attacked her mouth again with wanting, love filled kisses that were punctuated by a tongue that teased and begged for her to reciprocate. Isabella melted into his arms, wrapping her own round his neck, and moving as close to him as she was able.

His nimble fingers made quick work of her bra that was flung unceremoniously across the room so that they could then tweak and circle her nipples until they were so tight they hurt. His lips etched her skin with love and fire, while his hands pulled, caressed, and held her so tightly, Isabella knew that she'd never have to be scared again. Her nails scoured his back and gripped his hair as they rocked, gasped, moaned, and loved together.

"Sweetheart," Edward grunted as he grappled frustratingly with his boxer briefs. "Lift up for me."

Placing her weight onto her knees, Isabella did as he asked and groaned into his temple when she felt his fingers sneak under her panties and rub her wet, swollen clit.

"Need you," she whimpered, as she wound her hips and kissed him like a starving woman. "Please."

"Fuck, I know, Peaches. I know. I need you so fucking much." His fingers moved against her frantically, sending the start of her orgasm flying through her body.

"Fuck me," she begged.

"Jesus," he gasped as he gripped his cock with his free hand and felt the eager tip swipe across her soaked pussy. His insides exploded with a feral need so acute, he could barely breathe.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he pulled his fingers from her, pushed her sexy panties to the side, lifted her with his right forearm, and guided himself to her luscious heat. Slowly, with her hands on his shoulders, gripping his flesh, she dropped onto him, engulfing him perfectly.

_Holy shit…the heat…the tight grip of her…_

"I love you," he groaned as their foreheads touched and her ass met his thighs.

"I love you," she answered. She lifted gently, teasingly, making them both gasp and shake.

With his briefs around his thighs and her panties still in place, Isabella began to lift and drop faster until she was bouncing up and down his length; soaking him and conjuring his orgasm from the darkest depths of his stomach. With her head dropped back, her neck elongated, and her breasts bare for him to feast on, Edward was fairly sure that he'd never seen anything more erotic or fucking beautiful in his life. His hips began to pump upwards, needing deeper, needing harder, needing her promises of marriage and children to become a reality.

Never had he considered that he would want to marry anyone. Never had he considered himself man enough to be a father, but, fuck, with Bella, anything seemed possible. He wanted all of that with her_. Goddamn it._ He wanted to have a family with her.

Having been birthed into a family that couldn't have given less of a shit, Edward knew that he would never want what he grew up with for his own children. He would be everything that his family wasn't: caring, loving, and dependable, and he wanted Bella to be his in all the ways that she could be. He just prayed to God that he would be good enough.

He wasn't a pussy. Of course, the thought of anyone being dependable on him for anything scared him to death, but he wanted it so badly. There was a hole in his heart that had been carved by the bastards that had abandoned him as a kid, and only Bella and the family they would have together could fill it.

Latching his mouth onto her nipple and sucking as much of her into his mouth as possible, Edward swore silently that, whatever was to happen in the future, he would be the man and father that Bella and their children deserved. He would make them proud and prove once again that he was so much more than his worthless mother and fuck-head cousins believed.

He grunted and clutched Bella's hips as her pace increased and his cock began to swell within her.

"You feel so damned good," he told her as he pulled her mouth back to his. Her taste was indescribable. "You're gonna make me come."

"I want you to," she moaned as she wound her fingers into his hair, pulling on it deliciously hard. " I love feeling your come inside of me."

"Holy fuck, Bella," he growled and lifted his hips higher, delving deeper into her. He smiled when he felt her twitch and mew when the tip of his dick struck her in exactly the right place.

_There. Right there._ He wanted to be right the fuck there for the rest of his life.

"Oh God," she groaned. "Oh God."

"Yeah," he replied as his balls tightened. "_Yeah_, yeah."

"I'm…it's…"

"Please, Peaches, come. Please. I'm so fucking…close."

But it was too late.

As Bella dropped onto him one more time, Edward exploded inside of her, crying out into her shoulder as she continued to buck and writhe above him. His orgasm ripped through him, snapping up his back like a whip and pulsing from his body into hers. He mumbled and cursed into her skin when she pushed her hand into her panties and began to rub herself furiously.

"So fucking hot," he whimpered as sweat seeped from his temples.

"Fuck!" She cried out as she bit his neck and came with an enormous shudder, soaking his cock beautifully. "Oh, Edward. Oh…so good…so good."

Edward wrapped his arms around her as her head slumped into the crook of his neck, and allowed his body to drop backwards against the headboard. The feel of her so close to him made everything else around him seem ridiculously frivolous.

With Bella in his arms he was complete.

He was home.

"You're my life now," he whispered into her dark, damp hair.

=PoF=

Jamie Damon typed manically on his MacBook Pro with a frustrated frown framing his tired blue eyes. Ever since Isabella had called him with her request to dig up dirt on Peter Whitlock and his company, he had been ruthlessly calling contacts, checking details, and delving into places that no sane business attorney should ever go. Even one as depraved as he was.

Isabella had sounded so desperate when she had called that Jamie could do nothing but agree to help her, even if that fucker Cullen had been mentioned a shit load of times. It hadn't escaped his attention, however, that Isabella had called him Edward a number of those.

As inevitable as it had been from the beginning of their so-called 'relationship', Jamie now knew for certain: they were definitely fucking. Maybe she was even in love with him. Jamie grit his teeth. He'd deal with that little fact later.

Not that it was his business - she was only his best friend after all – he had no claim over her…he'd been in love with her for most of his life, but…he had Victoria now, and if Isabella was happy…

_Whatever._

The point was, she had called, she needed his help, and he would bend over backwards to help her. That's what friends did, right? Plus, if Renee was okay with Isabella's dalliances with an asshole criminal, then he would have to keep his trap the fuck shut. He exhaled down his nose in aggravation as he looked at his computer screen. Criminal or no, the fucker was worth enough money to make Soloman blush. Not that Whitlock and his cronies had done a hell of a lot of work to cover that fact up.

But it wasn't the name Cullen that jumped out from the key shareholders list for WCS Communications Jamie was looking at. It was the name Murphy. _Annabella Murphy_.

As the name flickered through Jamie's memory he found that Annabella Murphy was a shareholder for over twenty percent of the company, including some that were tied in with the Cullen shares and had been for over thirty years. Interestingly, her shares were worth over one hundred million and had never been touched. Jamie lifted his fingers from the keyboard and sat back in his leather-backed seat. He sipped from his lukewarm latte and stared at the name.

Annabella Murphy. Where the fuck had he heard that name before?

"Fuck it," he grumbled and pulled out his iPhone, dialing Isabella's number. It was way after midnight, but if he didn't figure out who the hell Annabella Murphy was, he would lose his damned mind.

"Hello?" Her voice was tired and croaky at the end of the line.

"Bells, it's Jamie. I'm sorry it's so late."

She yawned. Jamie could hear a male voice low and indistinct in the background. "It's fine. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. I just had a question for you. I mean, fuck, I don't even know if you'll have any idea who this person is."

"Person?"

"Yeah, a person who's a major shareholder for WCS."

"Um…I'll try."

"Do you know who Annabella Murphy is?"

Jamie frowned when he heard Isabella snort and chuckle. "Well, duh, Jamie. Of course I know who she is."

"You do?"

"Sure," Isabella replied. "That's my grandmother, Nana Boo."

**Holy reveal Batman!**

**Apologies again for the short length, but it was either this or nothing for a while longer. **

**Read the lemon again and it'll all be fine! Thanks again for your patience and support.**

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**TTFN xxx**


	42. Chapter 42

**No, your eyes are not playing tricks on you. This *is* an update.**

**I apologise for the delay, but life happens sometimes. I won't bore you with the details. What's important is that I'm back on track! YAY!**

**Thank you to everyone who has waited so patiently for this update and all the wonderful people who have sent me messages of support and love. It means so much to me.**

**To the girls on Twitter - my PAW Princesses (4 days babies!) - the FaceBook girls, and the Twilighted beauties. Thank you.**

**We left the end of the last chapter with the revelation that Nana Boo was a share holder in WCS.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter 41: Brothers in Arms**

"_To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved." ~ **George****MacDonald** _

"You're on speakerphone, Jamie," Isabella said softly as she placed her iPhone gently in the centre of the large, pine kitchen table. Leaving the blasted contraption alone once she had pressed what she needed to, she fisted her hands in her lap and glanced carefully at her grandmother, her mother, Phil, and Edward.

Seated around her, all of them were looking as perplexed as she was feeling, and all of them stared right back at her, waiting silently with questions that she most definitely did not have the answers to. She dropped her eyes to her knees and sighed despondently.

It was very late (or very early depending on how you looked at it) and Isabella was feeling an awful lot like Lewis Carroll's Alice: tumbling, ass first down the rabbit hole, with no way of knowing what she was about to discover.

The feeling was unnerving to say the very least.

Isabella looked up to her right when she felt Edward's strong arm wrap tenderly around her shoulders, and allowed herself to lean against him losing herself to his warmth and smell. He kissed her temple and rubbed his palm down the top of her arm.

God knew what the hell was going through his mind at that moment.

Hearing that Nana Boo had shares in twenty percent of the company, that Edward owned raised a million questions that ranged from the incomprehensible to the downright ridiculous.

_What were the chances? How the hell had she not known this? Had Nana Boo known all along? Was there a connection between the Cullens and the Murphys? And if so, what the fuck was it?_

Yeah, Isabella's brain was firing anxiously on all cylinders, waiting for the explanations that she had immediately demanded from Jamie when he had told her the news.

"So who am I speaking to now?" Jamie asked. His disembodied voice was weary and agitated.

"Me, mom, Nana, Phil...And Edward," Isabella answered, pushing her fingers in between Edward's.

Jamie exhaled loudly and hummed a sound that Isabella always heard when he was vexed. She did not allow herself to ponder on the reasons why. Besides, it was pretty clear that the problem was about six-two and sitting at her side with a small, satisfied smirk on his beautiful face.

Isabella rolled her eyes. _Men._ Didn't they have more important things to worry about? At two-thirty in the morning, Isabella was definitely not in the mood for any type of macho pissing contest between the man she loved and her best friend. It was juvenile and unnecessary and, in fairness, about priority ninety on a list of one hundred. That shit would just have to hold the fuck up for another day and a more reasonable hour.

"Can someone please explain to me why we are all up at this time?" Renee asked as she suppressed a large yawn and rubbed her palm across her face.

Isabella took a deep breath and sat forward. She cleared her throat quickly and licked her lips. Edward moved with her, strong and secure at her side.

"You're all up because Jamie has called with some information," she began cautiously. "You see, a few days back, I asked him to do some...investigating."

There was a beat of silence.

"Investigating," Phil repeated with a dip of his chin.

"What kind of investigating, darling?" Nana Boo asked. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Isabella assured. She exhaled, feeling heavy, and laid her forearms on the table. "I needed information, dirt if you will, on...someone, and I knew that Jamie would be the person to get it for me."

"Sweetheart," Nana Boo said softly as she placed a hand over Isabella's. "Who did you need information about? Are you in some type of danger?"

"No, Nana," Isabella replied quickly. "But I needed whatever Jamie could get to protect myself and Edward."

Edward shifted slightly at her side and cracked the middle finger of his right hand. Isabella immediately looked at him and smiled as reassuringly as she could. The anxiety he was feeling was visible in the shamrock flecks of his eyes and the lines that appeared at the side of his mouth.

"Who do you both need protection from?" Renee asked warily. Her eyes, whether she meant them to or not, flickered accusingly at Edward. Isabella managed to hold back her protective retort by biting on the inside of her lip. Hard.

"Peter Whitlock," Isabella answered clearly, clicking her tongue distastefully at the end of his name. "Edward's cousin."

Isabella's eyes found her mother's, to see them narrowing thoughtfully as the pieces slowly started to fall together. "He was the one who sent you those photographs, Mom." Isabella's tone was a little more biting and accusatory than she had wanted, but Isabella was still bitter that her own mother had been so ready to point the finger of blame at Edward when the photographs had come through her door.

"You're...you're certain?" Renee asked quietly, embarrassedly.

"Pretty much," Isabella answered.

"Wait a moment," Nana Boo interrupted. "Who is Peter Whitlock?"

With her palms being warmed by the cup of hot chocolate that had been placed in front of her, Isabella took a deep breath of here-goes-nothin', and started to tell the full story of her _almost_ relationship with Peter Whitlock. She detailed his deliberate omission about his connection to Edward, Alice's hurtful involvement, Jasper's, all the way through to his inexcusable demanding and bullying of Edward in respects to his signing over his rightful ownership of the company.

The recount was painful in parts, and embarrassing in others, but having Edward at her side, calm and steady, allowed Isabella to brush her uneasy and anger aside. She tried to be as clear as she could, keeping her personal embellishments to a minimum, as she explained the whole fucked up situation.

The room was pin-drop silent by the time she had finished, with a large helping of wide eyes, and gaping mouths.

"You did good, baby," Edward whispered into her ear as they both waited with baited breath for someone to say fucking something.

"So," Renee said hoarsely, breaking everyone from his or her holy shit trance. "You _own_ this company?"

Edward stared back, nonplussed, even though he could feel tension radiating from Bella's body, "Yes, Ma'am. Not that I have much to do with its running, as you can imagine." His words dripped with disdain. "Having an ex-convict on the board wouldn't exactly look good on the bi-monthly newsletter."

"What crust," Nana Boo spat unapologetically. She adjusted her cardigan in a fluster of annoyance. "What on earth difference does it make? Everyone makes mistakes."

Edward smiled gratefully at the old woman, wondering fleetingly whether adoption of septuagenarians was legal in the Continental US.

"Well, it matters to Peter," Isabella said bitterly. "The _money_ matters to Peter."

"When it's that amount of money, it's no wonder," Jamie added sharply. "I mean, Christ, Bells, your _boyfriend_ here is worth nine figures."

Edward felt his face flush with mortification and fury flood his body. Why couldn't the little prick keep his goddamn mouth shut? Edward didn't want everyone knowing what he was worth, regardless of whether he'd ever or_would_ ever see a dime of it. He wasn't defined by the amount of numbers he was entitled to have in his bank account, nor did he want anyone to look at him differently because of it.

Which, apart from Bella, they were all doing right at that moment. Fucking perfect.

"Look," Isabella said quickly. "That stuff doesn't matter." She gripped Edward's hand in her own, squeezing it gently, knowing without doubt that when she next saw Jamie she would tear him limb from limb.

"Absolutely," Phil agreed with a meaningful look in Renee's direction.

God bless her, Edward thought, the woman looked about ready to pass out. Not that he didn't get why. To learn that you are sitting across from a millionaire five hundred times over was a shock to anyone. Edward's skin momentarily stung with the realisation that Bella's mother was much more likely to accept him, now that she knew what he was worth. He knew that he should have been grateful, relieved, but instead, Edward simply felt hollow. That was the thing about money. It was anything but fulfilling, and tended to bring nothing but heartache.

"So this information about Peter was retrieved because you want your money?" Renee asked carefully.

"No," Isabella and Edward answered in unison.

"I don't care about the fucking money," he continued in exasperation as he rubbed his hand across his rough chin. "I never did. But that company belongs to me and Peter is doing all he can to try and take it away from me, including blackmail." His fists clenched and his stare turned chillingly dark. "His threatening Bella is _not_ acceptable."

Isabella ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck in an effort to calm him down. "I'm fine, sweetheart," she murmured before turning back to their enraptured audience. "We needed a smoking gun, something that would make him back off," Isabella added.

"Fighting fire with fire, huh?" Phil asked with a proud smile in Isabella's direction.

"Something like that," she replied.

"And what was the smoking gun?" Nana Boo asked.

She blinked in surprise when Isabella and Edward stared intensely at her. "You are," Isabella answered quietly.

"What?" She asked with an uneasy smile.

"Jamie," Isabella said towards the phone. "Can you explain?"

"Sure," he sighed. "The long and short of it is, while I was digging around, I came across the names of the major shareholders and investors for WCS Communications, of which there are many. Obviously one E. A. Cullen is the majority holder with over sixty per cent of the shares which, I might add, they have worked damned hard to keep on the down low."

"Surprising," Edward muttered dryly.

"On the list I came across a name that was familiar to me," Jamie continued. "So I called Isabella."

"What was the name?" Renee asked quickly, seemingly enjoying the cloak and dagger of the whole situation.

"Annabella Murphy."

All heads turned in Nana Boo's direction to see her looking at the phone as though it had sprouted arms and legs.

"How...how is that possible?"

"We hoped _you_could explain that," Isabella said softly.

"I can't," she replied honestly.

"The shares were purchased in your name over thirty years ago and equate to almost twenty per cent of the company," Jamie explained. "They're worth in excess of one hundred million dollars."

"Good gracious," Nana Boo spluttered with a bony hand over her mouth. "Do you have any idea who bought the shares?"

"No. The buyer remained anonymous. The only thing I do know is that the buyer was a he."

"Who on earth would buy you shares?" Renee asked with a questioning shrug.

Nana Boo shook her head in response. "Do you have a date, Jamie?" She enquired. "A date when the shares were bought."

"Yeah, one sec," Jamie replied. There was a cacophony of fingertips on keyboard type sounds before his voice returned to the line. "August eighteenth 1979. The only identity on the account opening is a password: Frank."

The snort that erupted from Nana Boo was as unladylike as it was unexpected. She proceeded to giggle into her hand like a schoolgirl as the rest of the table looked on in utter disbelief. Edward found himself smiling at her as she snickered and wiped at the laughter tears that had gathered at the corners of her wrinkled eyes.

"Can we all be let in on the joke, mother?" Renee said with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," Nana Boo stammered with a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's really _not_ that funny. But your father always did have that effect on me."

"My father?" Renee asked swiftly.

"Yes, your father. He was the one who bought the shares."

Isabella frowned. "How do you know that?"

"The date, darling, it's our wedding anniversary. Why else would he use my maiden name? And his favourite singer was Frank Sinatra." She lifted her hands, palm-up towards the ceiling. "Who else could it be?"

"Why would he buy you shares in WCS?" Edward asked.

"Pfft, who knows," Nana Boo smiled. "He had his fingers in so many pies, what with his political connections. Maybe that was why: He saw an opportunity to increase the area his party covered – get the message out to a wider population?" She smiled tenderly at Edward. "Chances are he probably knew your family."

Edward blinked back at her thoughtfully, having been mulling over that very same idea.

"I have paper work upstairs from after he passed, detailing things that he owned, shares that he bought, sold, bought," Nana Boo continued. "My lawyer went over some of them a couple of times, but I just get lost in all the numbers and legal jargon. He was a shrewd businessman, my husband. Shrewd but not very romantic," she laughed. "Buying me shares for our anniversary, indeed."

"Shares worth one hundred million," Jamie interjected. "That's one hell of a gift."

"Maybe so," Nana Boo uttered seriously. "But I'm more interested in how I can help you two get back at this..._Whitlock_fellow. Is it possible?"

"With your shares and Cullen's," Jamie explained. "Between you, you have eighty per cent of the company. I'd say that was a damned good leg to stand on."

"Nana," Isabella murmured softly. "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I'm sure, darling," Nana Boo assured her. "Now tell me what I need to do."

=PoF=

Jacob Black was pacing.

He was pacing and he was sweating. Sweating like a motherfucker, in fact.

His nerves were shot to hell and the putrid stench of law enforcement permeated his nostrils like an infectious disease. FBI suits or not, they still stank of arrogance and back ally deals. Not that Agent Biers hadn't grown on him over the past couple of weeks, however. The guy seemed fairly cool and genuinely interested in helping Nessie, which, for Jacob, was vitally important. Biers wasn't crooked like the other FBI fuckers Jacob had met over the years. He was, Jacob concluded, one of the good guys.

Not that, that helped calm his ass down any. Feeling his spine prickle with unease as he made another circuit of the room, he couldn't help but notice that his surroundings were definitely not of the feng shui persuasion. The room that he was prowling was sparsely furnished, with a small wooden chair that screamed chiropractor, and a table that had seen better days and many a coffee stain. It was, as Biers had explained, a safe house, and the only place he felt comfortable taking Jacob to answer his long, detailed list of questions.

FBI headquarters was _not_ the best place for Jacob to be seen. He'd learned long ago that, in Aro Bartollini's case, you never knew who the hell was watching.

Suddenly, the door opened and Biers entered followed by another agent with a crew cut and a bad attitude. He narrowed his eyes at Jacob, who had halted his pacing and was eyeballing the asshole right the hell back. What was it with these bastards thinking that they were better than everyone else was? A shiny badge and a handgun did not a decent guy make. Fact.

"Sorry to have kept you, Jacob," Biers apologised as he gestured towards the table and chairs. "I had to wait for Agent Burke here to finish up on another case."

"Whatever," he muttered, keeping his eyes front and centre on the Burke dude.

"I'm Agent Dane Burke," crew cut said dismissively with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his trousers.

"Great," Jacob answered dryly. "And what are you here for?"

"Agent Burke is here to assist me, Jake," Agent Biers interrupted, sensing the tension between the two men, "Nothing more, nothing less. I'm sorry I didn't get chance to explain what would be happening, but everything is moving so fast."

Jacob let his eyes drift over to Biers, and loosened the tightness in his neck, "Fine. Can we just get started? This room is giving me the fucking creeps."

"No problem," Biers smirked. The two agents sat on one side of the table while Jacob parked it on the other, hoping to fuck that the chair didn't collapse under his sizable weight.

Once the hand held digital recorder was in place, Biers began. The questions that he asked were fairly routine. What jobs had Jacob done for Bartollini? Did he know what deals Bartollini was involved in? What shenanigans did he see while on the Bartollini property? Could he identify Marcus and his hardheaded cronies from a set of surveillance pictures, which Burke pulled from a brown folder? Did he ever keep receipts of any jobs he was asked to go on?

Etc, etc, ad nauseum.

Jacob managed to keep his shit together for the most part. The only time that he felt his temper flare and his patience hightail it out of the room was when his relationship with Vanessa was discussed.

Who knew? How did it start? How long was it before they were intimate? How did they hide it? Why did it end?

That shit stung like hell and Jacob found himself pinching his nose and breathing as deeply as he could as he answered. Recounting the days when they had run away to start a life together was seriously painful, even after all the time that had passed. Between clipped sentences, Jacob found himself remembering Vanessa's laugh, the feel of her lips, the curves of her body, the deep, rich smell of her hair...the small life inside of her.

Christ, it still split his heart wide fucking open.

"Can we...take a break?" He asked as he rubbed his neck with his palm. They'd been at the shit for nearly three hours, and his head was about ready to explode.

"No," Burke snapped back. "We still have questions."

Ordinarily, Jacob would have cursed under his breath and forced himself to continue, but Burke was a complete prick, and his attitude was grating on his last damned nerve.

"Listen, asshole," Jacob snarled across the table. "I don't know where you think you get off talking to me like that, but you need to watch your fucking mouth."

Burke's eyes flashed with something that made the hairs on Jacob's neck rise. _Shit._ Maybe he had underestimated the fucker after all.

"Where do I get off?" Agent Burke asked in a quietly dangerous voice that struck Jacob like a cold palm across his face. The man sat forward, calm and collected, while Agent Biers kept his eyes on the folder in front of him.

"I get off by knowing that if your dipshit ass doesn't cooperate in every way that the bureau needs, then I have every right to throw it in jail for a long, long time." His long finger pointed towards the paper work that had collected between them over the last few hours.

"You are here because we want you to be, not because Riley asked you nicely or because you _wanna_ be outta the goodness of your criminal heart. You are here because, if you weren't, you'd be in lock-up." The smile on Burke's face grew dark.

"I have evidence of perjury, narcotic use and dealing, theft, fraud, and a shit load of other felonies that would make the district director of the bureau hard for a fucking month. You thought you were being so fucking slick, but we've been watching you for years, my friend, so don't throw your attitude at me, Black, because I'll simply throw it right back at you with a fuck load of charges. Capiche? "

Jacob crossed his arms slowly over his chest, never dropping his eyes from Burke's. The fact that he felt sick to his stomach was irrelevant. He couldn't allow the fuck to know that his words scared the shit out of him.

Watching him for years? _Sweet__Jesus._

"Fine," Jacob muttered. "Let's keep going."

"Sensible boy," Burke commented victoriously as he slid back into his seat. "Now, you're friend...Edward Cullen, how long was he involved for? Did he start with the family when you did?"

Jacob froze, blinking between the two men. "What's Cullen got to do with this?"

Burke sighed and rolled his eyes in annoyance. Without breaking eye contact, Burke slammed three photographs on the table. Jacob didn't need to look at them to know that they were of himself and Cullen. "Cullen was, aside from you, Bartollini's main go-to guy. He was in as deep as you, maybe deeper. Now either you can answer the question or we can pull him in and ask him ourselves."

"You can't!" Jacob protested immediately, panic teasing every inch of his body.

"Why?" Burke smirked.

Jacob stared at Biers pleadingly, but the fuck simply looked back at him with no emotion whatsoever. "He's on parole, for Christ's sake."

"Oh, we know that," Burke answered smugly, "Which is why _you_ need to be as cooperative as possible. We'll most likely need to bring him in anyway."

"Shit," Jacob cursed as his head dropped back on his neck and he glared at the ceiling. "I thought it'd be just me...I didn't know that he'd be brought in. If I had, I wouldn't-"

"Wouldn't what? Help us?" Biers asked venomously bringing Jacob's head back down. "Think of Nessie! I thought she meant something to you?"

"She does, but-"

"But what, Jake? What?"

For the first time in his life, Jacob Black was without words.

"Your friend can look after himself," Biers added. "Keep focused on what's important."

Jacob blinked, tasting acid at the back of his throat. Looking around slowly at the small, claustrophobic room he was seated in, he suddenly realised, without doubt, that he was well and truly fucked.

"What...," he croaked, defeated and tired. "What is it you want to know?"

=PoF=

Mike Newton stormed down the long corridor of Arthur Kill towards Isabella Swan's classroom with a piece of paper scrunched tightly in his fist. He was sure that the fucking thing was burning his palm. Goddamn it. How the hell could she do this to him? No warning. No word about it. He wanted answers and he wanted them-

"Miss Swan," he bellowed as he threw back the classroom door.

The room was silent as the seven inmates of her class wrote furiously with open texts in front of them. Each one of them looked up at the ruffled warden. Miss Swan was seated at the front of the class, behind her desk, glaring at Newton like he had pissed on her favourite pair on Monalo's.

"Miss Swan," he repeated after he had cleared his throat. "May I have a word?"

"No, you may not," she retorted quickly. "As you can see, my students are in the middle of an examination. One which you have just interrupted and I need to be here for the duration." She glanced at her watch. "I'll be free in forty minutes."

Newton ground his teeth, feeling seven sets of eyes on him, waiting for him to either reply, concede, or throw a complete bitch fit. _Fuck._ Swan always knew how to bust his balls in front of the inmates.

"Fine," he muttered angrily, shifting from one foot to the other, "_My_ office. Forty minutes."

"Fine," she replied curtly with a pink flush across her cheeks.

It was almost fifty-five minutes by the time she finally knocked on his office door.

Newton had been watching the clock, knowing that she would push her luck even further with him. She was relentless. It wouldn't have bugged him if the inmates and staff didn't like her as much as they did. Jesus, she was like the Messiah of teaching or some shit. They listened to every word she spoke and worked hard for her. Some of the most hardened criminals - Cullen and McCarty being but two of them - who had walked through the door of Isabella Swan's class, had left seemingly educated in some way, and spouting Wordsworth or Blake.

Shit, he was lucky if they even _looked_ at him when _he_ spoke.

"Come in," he barked, arranging papers on his desk in an effort to look busy.

"You asked to see me," Isabella answered as she opened the door and stood with her arms folded across her chest.

"Yes, I did. I-"

"Before you continue," she snapped. "Can I just say that I do not appreciate you barging into my class the way you did today, Mr Newton."

_Here__we__go._ "Miss Swan, it-"

"Wasn't appropriate, when I have promised my students silence to complete their work. It undermines me and it breaks their concentration. You know how hard I have worked with that class to get them to the level of work and cooperation that they are at, and I need support from everyone to maintain that level, including you."

Newton blinked up at her, watching her eyes as they burned with annoyance and passion for her job and the measly, good for nothings that she taught. She still struck him dumb with her sass and sexiness.

"Fine, I apologise," he grumbled through gritted teeth.

"Good." She adjusted her skirt and sighed down her nose. "Now, what did you want?"

"I wanted to ask you what the hell this is." He slammed the same piece of crumpled paper down onto the desk between them. He watched her carefully as she looked at it. Her face gave nothing away.

"It is a reference request," she answered simply.

"Yes, it is," he countered dryly. "My question is, Miss Swan, why am I being asked for a reference?"

"It's the usual protocol when an employee applies for a new job."

"Oh, I know it is. But why am I hearing that you are applying for other employment now? Do you not understand the ramifications of your leaving here? The parole board appointed you Cullen's tutor for one. Plus, I'll need to find another teacher for those miscreants."

Isabella's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "I am allowed to move jobs if I chose to, Mr Newton."

Newton harrumphed.

"And they are _not_ miscreants."

"Regardless," he sniped. "When were you going to inform me of this?"

"I informed your secretary via email last week when I got my interview details through. I've set cover work for the day that I need to take off in order to attend it." She shrugged unworriedly. "I can't see the issue."

Her complacency did nothing but ignite Newton's annoyance even further.

"What about the parole board, Miss Swan? What about Cullen's tutoring? It's a condition of his parole. You can't simply walk away from that."

"Actually, I can," she countered quickly, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a very official looking black folder and placed it on top of her reference request.

"What the hell is this?"

"It's a set of documents," Isabella replied cheerfully, "Signed by Garrett, Charlotte _and_ Mr. Cullen, detailing work completed, assessments, and behavioural reports which you will see have been signed by Mr. Stewart, Parole Board Executive."

Newton could feel his face turning a deep shade of holy fuck. "Mr. Stewart?"

"Yes," Isabella replied with a small smile. "Charlotte was good enough to ask him for a meeting when Garrett suggested it. With all the vast, detailed documentation that I have kept during Cullen's tutoring, Mr. Stewart was quite happy to accept that another tutor can continue with him. Cullen is quite amenable to that also. It's all above board, Mr Newton. Everything is ready to be handed over, if I get the new appointment, of course."

Her laugh of satisfaction made Newton want to throw something. He looked through the damned folder at a snail's pace, looking over the signatures and the personal recommendations from Miss Swan, Garrett, and Charlotte, to the signature from Stewart.

"Well," he breathed. "I guess there's little I can do."

"I guess so," Isabella answered. She closed the folder while he was still looking at it and placed it back into her bag. "I'm sorry if this has come as a shock to you, Mr Newton, but I have to think of my future, and the job on offer is just too good to pass up."

Her tone told Newton that she wasn't sorry at all. Maybe she was sad to say goodbye to her students, but she hadn't even considered the epic shit storm it was going to leave _his_ass in. He didn't have _time_ for more appointments, for God's sake, or the interviews, training, and he was damned sure never going to find someone as good as Miss Swan to pick up the mantle.

His head suddenly felt like it was full of glass shards and rusty nails.

"I'll let you know how the interview goes," Isabella said brightly, as she flicked her hair over her shoulder and walked towards the office door. "Wish me luck."

Newton watched as she all but skipped out of his office, shaking her tight ass as she did.

=PoF=

"You should have seen the look on his ugly face," Bella laughed as she threw a handful of chopped onions into the oil of a sizzling pan. "He looked like he was ready to pass out. Asshole."

"Good," Edward replied dryly as he opened a can of chopped tomatoes. "I'd have given my left nut to have seen that shit. Fuck, I hate that guy."

"I know you do, baby," Bella whispered into the nape of his neck as she reached around him to grab a wooden spoon. The feel of her body pressed against his, even for that brief moment, made his eyeballs roll back into his skull.

Being in Bella's kitchen cooking together and talking about their day, made Edward feel strange. It was a good kind of strange, however. The kind of strange that made your heart beat fast and your face hurt from smiling too fucking much. The kind of strange that made you happy to be alive for the first time in years, and seriously consider setting the rest of your life on the straight and narrow. The kind of strange that made waking up in the morning easier, especially if she was in your arms when you did.

It had been a couple of days since they had returned from their trip to Chicago and the truth had come out about Edward, his past, his family, the company. He felt looser, less weighted, and more determined than ever to prove that he was good enough to stay at Bella's side. Her mother was definitely less prickly about their relationship, which was an absolute plus, but Edward knew that nothing was ever that fucking easy, and that he still had a long way to go.

The next few hours being only the start. _Fuck._

He sighed as he pulled the cheese from Bella's fridge and started grating it into a bowl.

"What's wrong?" Bella asked as she stirred her pan.

"Nothin'," he answered quickly, keeping his eyes down on his hands.

"Liar," Bella retorted with a small smile. "Tell me."

He shrugged and picked up his glass of red wine. "Nothing important," he said as assuredly as he could, taking a long sip.

"Edward, please," Bella insisted, turning slowly and approaching him. "Something's on your mind." She wrapped her arms around his waist and slipped her hands into the back pockets on his jeans. "Are you worried about tonight?"

He smirked down at her. She could read him like a fucking book.

He'd tried to convince her that he was all sorts of cool with her asshole friend, Jamie, coming for dinner so that they could hash out their plans for Peter, but, the truth was, he was edgy as shit about the whole thing. He wasn't trying to be the difficult-possessive boyfriend, but he was less than thrilled about the prospect of meeting the man who had taken his Peaches' virginity, slept with her a couple more times, and been in love with her ever since.

He felt his stomach clench. Yeah, all was _not_ fucking copacetic.

"Sweetheart, you know that Jamie is cool, right?" Bella asked quietly.

Edward couldn't help but snort. The way the fucker had been on the phone, with his attitude and whatnot proved that shit wrong instantly. The shit could be smelled across continents: Jamie was not happy that Bella was with Edward. Not happy. At. All.

Not that it made much difference to Edward whether or not the prick was in his fan club, but the thought of having Bella in the middle of people arguing over whether he was good enough for her again, was not something that Edward wanted. There had been too much of that shit going on and enough was enough.

Bella looked up at him, her large brown eyes cautious and beautiful. "You will behave, won't you?"

Edward licked his lips and bent down, kissing her softly, slowly, reassuringly. "I will do my utmost," he muttered, hating the words as he said them. He grimaced. "Just don't expect me to be swopping fucking childhood memories with him over dinner."

"I could only dream," she replied with a sarcastic laugh. "I just need the pair of you to be civil adults while we have dinner and organise everything. Please. For me."

"I said I would," he snapped back, feeling anxious and in desperate need of a cigarette. He watched as Bella bit her lip to hold back the response that his ass deserved. "Shit, I...Sorry," he muttered.

"You will be," she warned with a flash of annoyance in her eyes, as she unravelled herself from him and wandered back to the stove. "Because that Oreo cake I made is only for ex-criminals who do as they're damn well told."

Edward laughed despite himself. "Swan, you can't use the Oreo cake as blackmail! That's plain cruel."

"I never said I played fair," she replied over her shoulder, looking delectably gorgeous.

Dipping his chin as he stared at her, Edward approached her slowly, cupped her face and kissed her in a way that made her sigh and he hard as rock. She tasted of perfection and Christmas mornings.

"I love you," he whispered with his eyes closed, meaning every letter, syllable and word that left his mouth.

"I love you too," she replied as her hands gripped his forearms, "So much."

"I _will_ try, baby," he breathed against her forehead. "I promise. For you."

He felt her smile against his cheek. "I know you will."

As time crept closer to Jamie's arrival, however, Edward found himself pacing around Bella's apartment like a freaking madman. His strides were long and heavy, while his hands had taken permanent refuge in the chaos atop his head. He'd already smoked four cigarettes in an effort to calm himself, but he was convinced that he'd have to smoke the whole damned pack to feel any kind of levity or calm.

Bella watched him from the kitchen, ignoring his behaviour in the way that mother's do with tantrum throwing children. She remained quiet, knowing that he was dealing in his own way, no matter how unnecessary she considered it to be.

The four-rhyme knock that came at the door as the clock struck seven, halted Edward in his tracks. He glared at the damned thing as though he could burn through the wood and cremate the fucker on the other side of it. Bella put a hand against his chest and looked up at him with eyes that warned and pleaded.

"Please," she whispered as she kissed his collarbone.

Edward huffed down his nose and watched Bella walk across the apartment so that she could open the door. She smiled when she did. A wide smile edged in apprehension.

The voice that came from the other side of the door was firm and deep. "Hey Bells."

"Hey," Bella answered with a hand gesturing towards the apartment. "Please, come in."

Edward watched as, finally, the infamous Jamie entered. He was a tall guy, well built with caution in his blue eyes that snapped immediately to where Edward was standing behind the sofa. He stared straight back, feeling slightly impressed that Jamie would be so eager to piss him off. Straightening up to his full height, Edward slipped his hands into his pockets, and rocked back and forth on his heels.

"Um, Jamie this is Edward," Bella said gently as she stood awkwardly between them. "Edward..., this is Jamie."

Edward could feel his back molars start to grind as he stared at the bastard who had defiled his precious Peaches. It was ridiculous to think that Bella would have been a virgin when they met, of course. She was beautiful. Nevertheless, meeting the man in question was a completely different ball game. Jamie's only saving grace, in Edward's eyes was that Bella had told him that he had been tender and had treated her right the night that they had _first_ been together.

Otherwise...well, they sure as shit would have been having a completely different conversation. _Shit._

He'd been with her more than once. Mine.

Mine. Mine. _Mine._

Edward's hackles, jealousy and – not that he would ever fucking admit it – performance anxiety began to rise at an epic rate. If it weren't for the fact that it would upset his Bella, Edward would have been more than happy to rip the asshole's dick off his body and staple the damned thing to the fucking wall.

He was pulled from his potentially murderous thoughts by an annoyed cough that came from, not surprisingly, Bella. His gaze flickered to her face to see that it was expectant and more than a little pissed. He bit the inside of his lip and groaned under his breath in defeat.

He'd promised. Why the fuck had he promised that he would _try_ with the piece of shit?

_Oh yeah, because I love Bella._

Shuffling in annoyance from one foot to the other, and keeping his eyes engaged with Jamie's, Edward nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Jamie," he uttered.

"Edward," came the terse reply.

Bella sighed heavily in exasperation and swiped Jamie's suit jacket from off his arm, taking him by surprise.

"Drink?" she sniped as she stormed across the apartment towards the kitchen.

"Yeah, a beer if you have one," Jamie answered in a tone that was a little apologetic.

Edward could still feel Jamie's eyes on the side of his face as he watched Bella slam shit about in frustration. Not a great fucking start.

"Edward?" she barked.

"Sure, yeah," he answered quietly. "Beer thanks."

As Bella went about almost ripping the tops from the two bottles of Budweiser that she had snatched from the fridge, Edward glanced quickly at Jamie and exhaled.

"Fuck," he muttered.

He had to try. He had to try for _her_.

"So, Jamie," he began through tight lips and an arid throat, which he tried to clear. Several times. "Business good?"

He tried to ignore the small voice in his head that was simultaneously eye-rolling and berating his stupid ass. It was the first thing that came to his head, and shit, at least he'd fucking said _something_.

Jamie looked at him slightly perplexed, narrowing his judgemental eyes. "Um...yeah," he answered eventually. "It's...It's work. It pays the bills."

Edward nodded and rubbed the back of his neck with his palm in discomfort. Jesus, it was like pulling teeth.

"Good," he muttered, giving Bella a sideways glance as she handed him his beer. Her face, thank God, had lost a little of the tension that had been so prevalent and was looking more relaxed.

Jamie took his beer, smiling down at her. "Something smells great," he commented before taking a sip.

"Thanks," she replied. "It's chilli."

"My favourite!"

Edward bristled at the smug look on Jamie's face.

"Yeah," Bella answered. "Edward helped me." She smiled. "He's a pretty good cook."

_Yeah, fucker, I am..._

"Really," Jamie murmured unimpressed, as he looked anywhere but Edward. His gaze eventually came to rest on Bella's face. "You look really well, Bells. Great in fact. But then, you always do."

Edward clenched his hand in his jeans pocket and pulled a humongous swig from his beer.

Bella smiled meekly. "Thanks."

"I'm sorry that we've not been in touch as much." That was when Jamie's eyes flickered accusingly at Edward. "But, you know how things are."

"Yeah," Bella replied with a snarky tone that Edward recognised. "Well, you started spending so much time with Victoria; it was clearly hard for you to make time for your friends."

Edward watched with a sly grin as Jamie's mouth popped open with an excuse, a retaliation, but Bella was already walking away from him towards the kitchen.

"Dinner will be ready in five," she called over her shoulder. "Grab a seat, J."

Jamie's hands sank to his sides while the expression on his face changed from shock and annoyance, to frustration. Edward smirked at him, nodding knowingly.

Shit, the bastard was as owned by her as his ass was.

Bella rattled the pan on the stove bringing him from the revelation that had hit him like a ton of ha-fucking-ha. "Edward, can you give me a hand, please?"

"Sure baby," he called back, winking discreetly at Jamie and snorting into his beer when Jamie's eyes narrowed back at him.

To say that it was tense as Bella dished up dinner would be a huge fucking understatement. Edward was fairly relieved, however, that it emanated from the space between Bella and Jamie. Bella was clearly pissed about something Jamie had said but as long as her temper was aimed at her 'friend' and not him, all was good in the world.

As they sat down to eat around the circular table, Edward kissed the back of Bella's hand. "This looks great," he complimented. "Thank you."

Edward felt his chest lift when he saw a small blush creep up her cheeks, but shot a fierce stare at Jamie when he heard the distinct sound of a tongue clicking. Jamie's eyes, however, were focused firmly on the food in front of him. _Lucky__prick..._

The sound of silverware chinking filled the room, diluting the passive aggressive atmosphere that had built up between Edward and Jamie, and the not so passive aggressive atmosphere that was between Jamie and Bella. Edward watched as Bella ate silently, keeping her eyes away from either of the men seated at her sides.

The silence was enough to drive him insane.

"So," he uttered in Jamie's direction, elongating the vowel. "Victoria's your...girlfriend?" He asked the question slowly and smiled into the neck of his beer when he saw the expression of fury that graced Jamie's face.

Jamie looked quickly at Bella. "Um...it's complicated," he answered.

"Oh, really?" Edward baited, glancing towards Bella with wide eyes. "So what...you just...sleep together?"

"Edward," Bella admonished with a slight smirk at the right side of her mouth.

"What?" he asked innocently. "You wanted me to make conversation." He pointed to Jamie with the neck of his beer bottle. "That's what I'm doing."

"I'm not sure that my love life is appropriate dinner conversation," Jamie growled with his fork mid-way to his mouth. "Nor is it any of your damned business."

Edward looked between the two of them, holding back his smile when he saw Bella holding back hers. "Well, Jamie, I'm...I'm _terribly_ sorry."

"Sure you are," Jamie retorted sarcastically. He picked up his beer and drank the last dregs, his fierce stare burning into Edward. "So, Edward, tell me something," he continued in a tone that set Edward's hackles rising once more.

"Go for it."

Jamie leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table between them. "Are you just fucking Bella to stay on the parole board's good side or have you deluded yourself into thinking that you're somehow 'in love' with her'?"

The clang of Edward's knife hitting the plate echoed like a death knell around the apartment, covering the sound of Bella's mouth popping open in complete disbelief and hurt.

"The fuck you say?" Edward growled through his teeth, feeling his temper flare and lick up his spine, shooting down his arms towards his fists.

"You heard me," Jamie answered.

"Jamie," Bella interjected in a small, furious voice. "I think you should shut up now."

Jamie looked at her with narrowed, perplexed eyes. "What?" He asked in frustration. Bella glared back at him through angry tears. "Oh, come on, Bells."

"Come on, Bells, what?" She asked loudly.

Jamie snapped his mouth shut and breathed so hard that his nostrils flared. He slammed back in his seat and drummed his fingertips on the edge of the table.

"Come on, Jamie. Sit it out," Bella encouraged with utter sarcasm.

Jamie cocked his chin to the side and huffed. "This guy isn't good enough for you, Isabella."

"You know nothing about it," Bella retorted without hesitation.

"I know enough."

"Oh, really. Like what?"

Jamie remained silent, looking towards his plate and nowhere else.

"Jamie," Bella snapped. "You fucking coward, just say it!"

"Fine!" he bellowed back. "He's no good for you. He's dirt. He's a criminal for fuck's sake!"

Bella swallowed and took a deep breath. "Jamie-"

"I've watched you fall under the spell of this guy," he continued with venom. "Allowing him to get his hooks into you, and it makes me sick! Your father will be turning in his grave."

"Jamie-"

"You want my help to get his business back, but have you even considered the slight possibility that that's all he wants you for?"

Edward stood up so abruptly that his chair skidded noisily across the laminate floor. Jamie flinched but didn't raise his eyes from Bella as he continued.

"You're smarter than this, Bells. Think about it. He'll get his money and fuck off back under the rock that he crawled from."

"I swear to God," Edward barked. "If you don't shut your mouth, I'll do it for you."

Jamie scoffed. "Look good on your parole sheet if you did."

"I don't give a flying fuck," Edward retorted.

He really didn't. The fucker was way out of line, and utterly wrong in his assumptions. The sting of Jamie's accusations skittered over Edward's skin and sank deep into his stomach, fuelling his need to bust him in his fat mouth.

"Jamie, leave," Bella muttered with her chin towards her chest.

"What? Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

Jamie paused for a beat. "Bells, I'm saying this because I care about you."

"You don't care about anybody but yourself," Bella replied lifting her gaze to his. Jamie sat back slightly in his seat, shocked by the hate that he saw in his best friend. "You come into _my_ house and start throwing accusations around like you have the right to-"

"You're my best friend," Jamie argued in defence.

"No I'm not, Jamie," Bella spat, slamming her silver wear onto the table. "You don't give a shit. All this is about is your ego and how pissed you are that I'm with someone now. Someone that I love and want to spend the rest of my life with. Someone who loves _me_. _Truly_ loves me. And that's something that you will never have if you keep using Victoria. And as for being my best friend...It's a croc. If you were my best friend, you'd be there for me, no matter what, and support my decisions. But you never have. You...You're _nothing_to me."

The room fell deathly silent as the blood drained slowly from Jamie's face.

Edward watched his Peaches as her shoulders lifted and dropped in rage, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her to shield her from Jamie's cutting words. But this was her fight, and she had owned it. His heart hurt for her. Regardless of the fact that he wanted to rip Jamie's head from his shoulders, he knew the history of the two of them. They had known one another for a long time, grown up together. She was devastated and it showed.

Jamie stood slowly, his brow furrowed in panic. "Bells, please," he pleaded.

"Go."

"Don't be that way, I just..."

"No," Bella snapped firmly as she stood and moved closer to Edward. "You've made your point. You've told me how you feel and now it's time for you to leave. If you can't accept that I'm with Edward then we can't be friends. Ever. I don't want to look at you or speak to you."

Edward looked down at his right hand as Bella slipped her fingers between his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Jamie looked entirely crestfallen. "Bell-"

"You heard what she said," Edward bit back. "See yourself out."

He leaned down and kissed Bella's temple, sighing when he felt her snuggle into his side, hiding her face that was surely now tear stained.

Jamie stood, watching the two of them, before he slid out from in front of his chair and sloped towards where his jacket was hanging. He pulled it on slowly, sheepishly, stealing occasional looks back at Bella who was still buried under Edward's arm. He lifted his briefcase, laid it on the arm of the sofa, and removed a thick folder and a stack of papers before placing them onto the coffee table.

He looked up at Edward and exhaled heavily. "These...These are for you. All the stuff you need on Whitlock." He pointed with an exhausted hand. "I'll...I'll just leave them there. Any questions...y'know...call me."

He snapped his briefcase shut and walked towards the door. He stopped as he placed his hand on the handle. "For what it's worth, Bells," he whispered. "I do love you, and I only have your best interests at heart. I know you probably don't believe me, but it's true, I swear. I'm sorry."

The click of the door closing behind him was all that was needed for Bella to collapse in on herself against Edward's chest, sobbing angrily into the fabric of his t-shirt. He held her up, shushing softly into her hair, keeping her close against him. He looked at the clock on the wall. Jamie had been in the apartment for thirty-seven minutes.

Bella's arms wrapped tightly around his neck while his wound around her waist, picking her up so that her feet were hanging loosely from the floor. He walked to the sofa and sat down with her curled in his lap.

"I'm so...so sorry, Edward," she breathed into his neck.

"Shhhh, it's alright," he replied, rubbing his hand across her back. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"He's wrong," she whimpered. "He's wrong. I hate him."

Edward didn't answer that. The tears and the heartbreak in her voice told him that she didn't _hate_ Jamie. He had hurt her beyond words, true enough, but he knew that his Peaches was incapable of hating anyone or anything.

"You know that none of what he said is true," Bella asked. She looked up at him, her brown eyes red from crying. "Tell me you know that."

"I know, baby."

"Tell me that you want me."

"Why?"

"Please, just..."

"I want you."

"Do you love me?"

Edward cupped her face and stared straight into her eyes. "I love you more than anything. You're my Peaches."

Her lips pressed fervently against his, as her hands wound their way into his hair, pulling hard, desperate. "I'll always be your Peaches," she murmured between kisses.

Edward gripped her waist as she kissed him and sucked on the tip of her tongue when she pushed it into his mouth. She was breathless, as she pulled at his shoulders, needing him closer. Edward's body reacted instantly as it always did when she touched him. He was hard and moaning, but something about the way Bella grappled and clung to him felt wrong. Slowly, he pulled back from her, kissing the corner of her mouth in an attempt to soften his actions.

"Hey," he said softly as she gripped the back of his neck and pulled him back towards her soft, wet lips. He resisted and trailed his index finger down the tear marks on her cheeks. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Please. Edward, please, I..." She trailed off and closed her eyes tightly while clinging to his t-shirt. More tears fell.

"Peaches," Edward implored. "Talk to me."

Gradually, her grip on him loosened and she sat back. She buried her face in her hands and groaned in frustration.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled into her palms. "I'm sorry." She lifted her head, apology covering her face. "I shouldn't have...done that."

Edward smirked gently. "Trust me; I don't mind you doing 'that.' I just want to know that you're alright."

She shook her head minutely making her hair curtain her face. Edward pushed it back over her shoulder. "No," she answered finally. "I'm not alright."

Edward sighed down his nose and took her hands in his. "It's been a tough few days, right,"

She nodded and sniffed. "With Chicago, my mom, Nana Boo, work, my interview tomorrow, and now Jamie, I just feel..." She blew her breath out hard. "I feel like I'm constantly running to catch up."

"I know it, baby," Edward said quietly.

"I sometimes feel like we'll always be fighting someone or defending what we have, you know? The thought alone is exhausting."

Edward's heart stuttered in his chest, a hairline fracture threatening it's diameter. He swallowed and squeezed her hand, keeping his eyes on their entwined fingers.

"Too exhausting to quit?" His voice was tiny and he hated it.

"What?" Bella cupped his cheek so quickly that he didn't even notice that she'd moved. "No," she said firmly. Her eyes sparked and flashed. "I would _never_ quit. I won't. I love you far too much, Edward. You're everything. You know that, right?"

He smiled weakly, "Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. But, Bella, you have to understand, the thought alone scares the shit out of me. When all of this becomes too much, it'd kill me if you walked away, if I couldn't have you. I-"

"Hey, enough," Bella ordered. "I would never and will never walk away from you." She dipped her head, catching his eye. "I'm in this for life. You and me."

She clasped their hands to her heart. "I'm yours. All of me," she continued. "This part, right here, beats only for you."

Edward nodded and stared at where her heart beat beneath his palm.

"I love you so very much," she whispered. "Don't ever doubt that."

He looked at her. He looked at her beautiful, honest face and knew, without doubt that she would always fight for them. She would always fight for him. No matter what.

"I don't," Edward croaked.

Bella stood slowly then, clasping his hands tightly in hers, and led him silently to the bedroom. She undressed in front of him, keeping her eyes on his, before removing his clothes with so much tenderness and love, that Edward could barely breathe. They kissed, slow and passionate, amidst the puddle of clothing that surrounded them, while their hands explored skin that tingled and puckered in anticipation.

They fell gently to the bed; legs twisted together, bodies pressed together closely, rocking, grinding, and caressing until it was too much for either of them to bear. Finally, with a whispered plea, Bella opened her legs for him, aching, and wet, and sighed as his firm waist slid between her thighs. His weight on her was delicious.

With his elbows bent at either side of her head, Edward pushed into his Bella, groaning low, and long as she enveloped him so fucking perfectly. Her exquisite warmth spread through his body, thawing the cold that had rested inside of him since Chicago.

"Peaches," he whispered as their mouths opened together, allowing hot breaths to pass from his lungs to hers and back again.

"Edward," she murmured. "I love you."

"Are you mine?" He asked as he lifted from her, leaving the very tip of his body inside of her.

"Only yours."

He slid back in, taking his sweet time and grunting as her back arched, pressing her chest against his. Her fingertips dug into the skin under his shoulder blades and her heels pressed into his ass so that he slipped further into her. Perfect, sublime.

His eyes rolled backwards, "Forever?"

"Forever and ever. Oh God."

"Look at me," he ordered as he started to thrust slow but determined.

As small gasps began to leave her lips, Bella opened her eyes that gleamed with lust and need.

"Bella," he panted as he wound his fingers into her hair, grounding himself to her before he began to lift. "I will never…_never_ stop loving you this way," he promised. "I will _always_ need you this much. I swear to you. Every_day_ of forever."

And he showed her then, with every inch of his body, that he meant every word. And when she finally exploded around him, crying out his name to the heavens, Edward knew that she felt the exact same way. It was with that thought that he careened over the edge of his orgasm, bellowing into her neck as he violently and relentlessly pulsed his love into her.

=PoF=

Edward entered the tall building that smelled of money and conceit with sweaty palms and a don't-fuck-with me attitude. He hated all things Wall St. If it wasn't for Bella, he would rather have had his thumb nails stapled together than grace the place with his presence.

He glared at the security dude when he had the audacity to ask what he was doing there.

"I have an appointment at one," he bit back matter-of-factly, "Wallasy and Berger."

Mr. Security looked hesitant; once he had searched him and found no illicit materials. He could clearly smell a prison brother a mile off. Gradually and with much apprehension, he allowed Edward through towards the elevators with a cautious wave of his hand.

Edward hid his snort. _Sucker_.

Once off the elevator, Edward made his way around a maze of corridors, following sign after fucking sign until he entered a large, ostentatious reception area. Potted plants, vomit-inducing view of Manhattan, and glass tables were all in attendance. Edward couldn't hold back his eye roll.

The small blonde-haired woman behind the desk smiled politely. "Can I help?"

"Um," Edward replied as he strolled towards her. He smiled softly and watched with satisfaction as her eyes widened, "Maybe. I'm a little lost."

"I'll say." The deep voice that came from behind him sounded pissed, and a little surprised.

Edward turned leisurely and leaned against the reception desk. "MOorning," he offered with a dip of his chin.

Jamie stood and stared at him in bewilderment. "Morning?" he asked incredulously. "What the hell are you doing here?" It was then that his asshole demeanour shifted and panic etched his face. "Is Isabella alright?"

"She's fine. She's at a job interview."

"Interview," Jamie repeated quietly. "I didn't know that she was looking for another job."

"Well, why does that shit not surprise me?" Edward raised his eyebrows in silent challenge when Jamie opened his mouth to spout some bullshit excuse. Surprisingly, he remained quiet.

"So what are you doing here?" He asked as he slipped his hands into his pants pockets.

"I'm here to talk to you," Edward said calmly.

"How the hell did you find out where I worked?"

Edward spun his iPhone between his thumb and forefinger, "Google. It has a great section on how to cure yourself of 'complete-fucking-assholeitis'. Maybe you should give it a try sometime."

The receptionist coughed a small laugh behind him.

"I'll do that," Jamie retorted angrily, glaring at the small woman. "So, Cullen, you're here to talk, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you'd be here on a caveman crusade. Come to beat my shit up or something."

Edward smirked. "That's an intriguing idea," he offered thoughtfully with a quick glance at the ceiling. "But no. Bella doesn't even know that I'm here."

Jamie frowned in confusion. "She doesn't?"

Edward shook his head. "But I'm here on her behalf."

"I don't understand."

Edward pushed from the desk and took three steps towards Jamie. "You have no idea how much you hurt her with what you said last night you son of a bitch. No idea at all. And believe me, if I'd had my way they'd have been scrapping your prejudiced, self-righteous ass off the fucking sidewalk this morning."

Jamie gulped audibly. "Is that right?"

"Yeah, that's right." Another step. "I have a thick skin, Damon. A few years in lock up can do that to a fucker. Say anything you want about me, anything at all and I guarantee that I'll have heard worse. But Bella, she hasn't."

Jamie's chin dropped. "I didn't mean to hurt her."

"But you did. Big time. For whatever reason, and God only knows why, she loves me. I know that makes you want to shove bamboo shoots up my fingernails, and truthfully I couldn't give a shit, but it's the truth, and because of that, she will stand by my side against anyone. Including you."

"I realise that."

"Good."

"I care about her, Cullen. She's my best friend. _You_ need to realise that. I was the guy in her life for years."

"I understand that, but _I__'__m_ here now, and, contrary to popular belief, I'm not going anywhere."

The two men stared at each other, like fighting stags; their antlers were well and truly locked. There was nowhere to go but backwards. Edward knew that the man before him cared for his Peaches. Hell, he may have even been in love with her. And, in truth, his vitriolic words had been directed at Edward, not Bella. When Jamie said that he didn't mean to hurt her, Edward believed him.

Jamie, shuffling from one foot to the other, coughed a sound of concession. He took the final step towards Edward and stared straight into him. "You hurt her, and I'll fucking kill you," he growled.

"If I hurt her, I'll let you," Edward replied with a satisfied smirk.

"Fair enough."

There was no handshake. That would have been asking too fucking much.

"Is that all you came down here to say?" Jamie asked eventually as the tension settled around them both, fading into an uneasy alliance.

"No," Edward answered, as he pulled the folder and papers that Jamie had left on Bella's sofa, from the book bag that had been hanging from his back.

"You told Bella that you'd help her." He slammed the papers into Jamie's chest, resulting in a gratifying 'oomph.' "And by God you're gonna do just that."

=PoF=

Two hours later, Edward emerged from the office building and made his way back towards the subway. He was half way across the street when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Hey beautiful," he smiled into the receiver.

"Hey yourself."

"How's it going?"

Bella groaned in frustration. "Okay, I think. The facility is great and we've met some of the other staff who seem really approachable and nice."

"That's great," Edward encouraged.

"Yeah," she sighed. "We're on a coffee break now. I needed to hear your voice."

"You'll do amazing, baby. I know it."

"I hope so. My interview is next."

"Be strong. Show those bastards what my Peaches is fucking made of!" He ignored the funny looks that his loud comments had garnered.

Bella giggled down the phone. "I will. I promise. I'll call you later. I love you."

"I love you, sweetheart. Bye."

Edward grinned as he ended the call and pushed the phone back into his jeans So caught up in what he was doing, Edward failed to see the figure standing in front of him. He stumbled against the broad chest and shook off the large hand that gripped his forearm.

"Sweetheart, huh?" the figure said with a smile.

Edward looked up and focused on the tall motherfucker standing in his way. "That must be the delectable Isabella Swan you were talking to."

Edward's protective instincts reared up with a vengeance. He stood to his full height and puffed up his chest, squaring up to the dark haired asshole and, oh, wait…his short, fat friend that suddenly appeared at his side.

"And who the fuck are you?" Edward thundered through clenched teeth.

The fucker gave him an evil, victorious grin that sent a wave of ice down Edward's back. He was instantly wary. This shit was not good. Not good. At. All.

"I'm FBI Agent Winters," came the reply as Edward's stomach smashed to the floor. "And you, Edward Cullen, are under arrest."

**Holy fricken shizz I did another cliffie, Batman!**

**I'm evil, I know. But it needed to stop here.**

**Thank you once again to everyone who has waited so very patiently for this update. I truly appreciate it.**

**Follow me on Twitter:- sophiejax(at)**

**Update will be…when it is done.**

**TTFN xxxx**


	43. Chapter 43

**Hi. Well, what can I say other than it's been a hell of a five months since I last updated.**

**Between being in hospital with pleurisy, work, Christmas, New Year, and splitting up with my boyfriend I haven't had much time or been in the right emotional head space to write, well, anything.**

**It has taken me the better part of three months to write this chapter and I hope it lives up to your expectations.**

**I thank you - every one of you - from the bottom of my heart, for your patience, for the support and love that I have received either on FB, Twitter or from the touching messages on FF. I know that, sometimes, the fandom can be an unforgiving place to be, but I have never been more blessed to know so many wonderful people. **

**Believe me when I say that every message, tweet, and DM made me feel better and helped me move forwards in both my RL _and_ my writing.**

**I hope the work that I have put into this chapter shows the depths of my gratitude.**

**Not long to go now. I'm thinking one chapter (two at most) and an Epilogue. It's been a hell of a journey.**

**Last chapter: Bella had a job interview and Cullen was arrested.**

**See you on the other side...**

**Chapter Songs:** _Five for Fighting, Chances. Ed Sheeran, Lego House_.

**Chapter 42: Choices**

"_Nobody ever did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices." ~ **Alfred A.**** Montapert** _

"Under arrest, are you fucking shitting me?"

The hood of the unmarked police car, parked at the side of the street, ate Edward's protests when Agent Winters slammed him face first against it. His cheek stung down to his jaw, against the metal, as he struggled against the fat fuck, but his arms were twisted painfully behind his back, hindering any type of escape.

The two agents ignored his curses and clipped the handcuffs tightly around his wrists. Agent Winters pulled Edward up and spun him around, shoving him against the side of the car.

Hard.

"If I were you, Cullen," he murmured with narrowed eyes and a Brooklyn breath that stank of coffee and smoke. "I'd keep my mouth shut and my questions to a minimum."

Before Edward could spit back any type of response such as 'go fuck yourself, pig', Winters had all but thrown him into the back of the cruiser.

"This is fucking bullshit," Edward shouted as he kicked at the door after it slammed shut in his face.

The two motherfuckers, however, simply stood by the car, ignoring him while other New Yorkers gaped and judged as they went about their daily business. Twice, three times Edward lashed out until the sole of his foot began to smart. He slumped exhausted back into his seat, dropping his head backwards, wondering what the ever loving fuck was going on.

Arrested.

How was that even possible? He hadn't _done_ anything. He had been a good little parolee, going to his meetings, his therapy, and every other bullshit intervention strategy that the board had thrown his way. He'd kept his nose well and truly clean and out of the shit that it had been residing in for too many years.

No. It had to be a mistake. It _had_ to be.

Confusion led to frustration, which led to panic.

_Shit._

Peaches.

He glanced down to see that his cell phone was still in his pocket, but cursed in a long breath when he realised he could do shit all about it. He had to get a message to her. She'd worry.

Jesus, what would it do to her if he were arrested, if he was thrown back in prison?

What would it do to _them_?

He looked up when the two agents opened the car doors and sat down in the front seats.

"I _want_ my phone call," he snapped immediately.

Agent Winters laughed a dry, sarcastic sound that reminded Edward of nails on a chalk board, before tapping his hands happily against the steering wheel.

"You'll keep your mouth shut, is what you'll do, Cullen," he replied with a dark tone.

"I have the right to a phone call," Edward argued, sitting forward in his seat.

Agent Winters turned around and stared hard at him. "As of this moment, you have no rights. No rights at all. And, if you ever want them back, asshole, then you will sit the fuck back and shut up."

Edward glared back. He would have given anything to have been able to punch the shit in the mouth but, as it was, he would have to bide his time. He sat back slowly, eyes still fixed on Winters' and heaved an angry breath.

"'Atta boy," the agent smirked before he faced forward and turned the key in the ignition.

=PoF=

They drove for almost an hour.

Edward had been more than a little confused when they had passed several law enforcement precincts without stopping, but kept his mouth shut. That last thing he needed to do was piss the agent off enough that he would refuse his damned phone call.

He had to speak to Bella and explain. He'd listened for his cell to chirp with either texts or calls from her, but was relieved when it had stayed silent. The last thing he wanted to happen was for her to panic when he didn't answer.

He dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. What a God awful shitty mess.

"Waken up, Buttercup. We're here."

Edward opened his eyes slowly, breathing deeply while trying to ignore the impulsive urge he had to hurt the agent in dark, sadistic ways. Confused, he looked out of the window to see that they had pulled up outside a house that needed a shit load of new window frames and more than one lick of paint.

"Where the hell are we?" he asked as Winters grabbed his elbow and heaved him from the car.

"Casa de Bureau," the agent answered with a wry smile. "Welcome."

The bureau? Edward frowned in puzzlement before...Shit. It was a safe house.

"Oh, this just gets better and better," he muttered as he walked between the two bastards towards the door.

The inside of the house was not much better. It smelled damp and musty, with peeling wallpaper clawing its way up the walls and worn carpets punctuated with stains that looked like a murderer's paint by numbers. The whole place was an OCD nightmare and Edward, at once, felt his skin start to crawl.

"Nice to see the tax payers' dollars are being put to good use," Edward deadpanned as they led him through what he assumed to be the living room, down a long, stale smelling corridor before he was pushed towards a door and shoved through it.

All he had for company, other than the agent behind him, was a rickety chair and a plastic table. Jesus, it was Kill all over again.

"Now," Winters said from behind him while simultaneously rattling a set of keys. "If I let you out of these, are you going to play nice?"

"Whatever," Edward replied with an eye roll.

"Oh, I nearly forgot," the agent added happily. Edward flinched when the fucker pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Wouldn't want you calling anyone and letting them know where you are now, would we?"

"You piece of shit," Edward cried angrily, fighting against the cuff's grip. "That's my fucking cell. You can't do that!"

"Now, now," Winters replied. "We'll have no name callin', especially if you want the chance to call your girlfriend."

"Fuck you," Edward spat.

"Really, Cullen? You're gonna speak to me like that?" Winters asked in a voice that suggested his sense of humour was hightailing it out the front door. "You have one short ass memory. What did we say about manners when we were in the car?"

Edward ground his teeth and flexed his jaw in a heroic effort to calm the ferocious anger that was surging through every artery and vein beneath his skin. He blew his cheeks out as he exhaled and looked towards the ceiling, silently counting down from one hundred.

He managed to get to seventy-three when Winters began to unlock the rings of steel around his sore wrists. Before Edward was released completely, however, Winters gave a warning squeeze of his forearm.

"It's just like kindergarten here, Cullen. You keep your hands and your feet to yourself at all times. Oh, and if you have another lapse in memory, just remember." Edward watched Winters' pudgy, fat finger gesture to the corner of the room where a small, black globe that looked suspiciously like CCTV hung. "You're on Candid Camera, buddy."

And with that, Edward's body was metal free. He turned slowly, rubbing his right wrist with his left hand, and glared menacingly at the agent.

"Take a seat," Winters said firmly. "You're gonna be here a while."

"I want my phone call," Edward hissed.

Winters narrowed his eyes at him and placed his hands on his hips. "Sit. Down."

The two men stared at each other for a long, tension-filled moment before Edward conceded, in this instance; he was most definitely not in the driver's seat. He sat down heavily into the chair that was an orthopaedic's worst nightmare knowing, as he watched Winters disappear through the only door in the room, as sure as his ass was sitting there, the nightmare was just beginning.

=PoF=

"_I'm busy. Leave a message."_

Isabella frowned and cursed as Edward's curt voicemail message shot back down the phone at her for the third time in a row. Shutting the darned thing off and shoving it back into her bag, she yanked her driver's door open and slammed down into her seat. She'd heard nothing from him in three damn hours. He wasn't at her apartment as they had arranged and there had been no note or message waiting for her when she had arrived home.

Initially, she had been surprised and worried about his whereabouts, but now she was just plain fucking annoyed. What was so important that he would ignore her on the day of her interview? He'd known how stressed she had been feeling about it, how anxious, how she'd redone her lesson plan at least four times the night before in an effort to get it just right.

Isabella had left said interview an hour before after being told that a decision would be made by the start of business the following day. Isabella felt confident at least. The facility seemed like the kind of place that she could work, and her potential boss had come across as being patient, kind, and sensitive about the welfare of the students that she would teach. He was as far removed from Mike Newton as was possible, which relieved Isabella no end.

In any case, it would have been nice to have seen Edward's face or heard his voice when she'd finished. As she drove across town, however, her irritated mind began to dalliance dangerously with all the awful things that could have happened to him.

Bike accident. Gunshot wound. Knife attack. Mugging.

No. Isabella shook her head ferociously to erase the horrific thoughts like an Etch-a-Sketch. He was fine. He had to be.

And besides, she'd have heard something from somebody should the worst have happened. Oh God, at least she hoped so. Her foot pressed on the gas a little harder at that particular thought.

Once at Edward's apartment, Isabella sought out his Hide-a-Key and barrelled her way through his door, calling his name as she did.

Empty. No reply.

Her stomach rolled with panicked nausea. What the hell was going on?

Throwing herself across his sitting room, she pressed play on the answer machine that was flashing angrily with, _"You have four,"_ un-played messages.

"_Cullen, pick up your fucking phone, dude. We need to meet. Urgently. Speak soon, bro."_ Emmett. As straight to the point as always.

"_Edward...It's Dad. Just checking in. I, um...Esme and I would like to see you, and...Well, let me know, Son. Bye._

Isabella cocked an intrigued eyebrow at the machine. She and Edward had continually avoided the 'Dad' topic by skirting around the issue since day one. Maybe it was about time to air that emotional dustsheet once and for all.

"_Edward, I know that you are afflicted by some kind of inoperable disease that makes you incapable of returning calls, but if you don't call me soon I will come around and kill you. Friendship be damned. Seriously, we need to talk...about some stuff. Call me ASAP, asshole. Love. It's Rosalie by the way, just in case you forgot your best friend."_

"I left that message two days ago."

Isabella squeaked in surprise as she spun around, hand clutching her rapidly beating heart, to come face to face with Rosalie standing in Edward's doorway.

"Jesus, you sacred me," she confessed, swallowing down her fear.

"The name's Rose, pumpkin', and if you _will _insist on leaving the door open, then people are just gonna walk the hell in."

Ordinarily, Rose's passive aggression would have washed down Isabella's back with an eye-roll and a fractious shrug but, as it was, her hackles immediately stood upright, ready for the blonde's shit and attitude.

"To be honest, I wasn't that concerned about the door, _Rose_," she snapped back. "Seeing as I'm more interested in finding out where the hell Edward is."

Rosalie's face flickered with surprise, before her eyes carefully scanned the apartment. "He's not here?" she asked casually.

"Clearly," Isabella answered curtly as she pulled out her cell and began to write a text message to Charlotte and Garrett. Surely, they would know what was going on. In her panic, Isabella misspelled word after word. "Shit."

"Hey, calm down," Rose chimed from the kitchen where she was pouring herself a glass of water. "I'm sure he's fine."

"Oh really?" Isabella bit back. "And how the hell would you know that?"

"Because he does this," Rosalie explained dismissively, "Goes off on his own when things get too...heavy or...overly serious, especially with women."

Isabella couldn't help but hear the patronising tone with which Rosalie had spoken. Dropping her cell back into her coat pocket, she narrowed her eyes at the bitch and pursed her lips as her raged breaths careened wildly down her nose. "Is that so?"

Rosalie stared at her over the rim of her glass, "Yeah."

"Hmm," Isabella mused sardonically as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, regardless, I still want to make sure that he's alright, no matter how _heavy_ or _overly serious_ things are."

Isabella caught the wry smirk on Rosalie's pristinely made up face. Her cheeks flashed red hot with anger as she yanked her purse from the sofa and stormed across the apartment towards the door.

"And, just so you know,_ pumpkin_," Isabella spat as she twirled back to face Rosalie. "There aren't any _women_. There's just me. Him and I. Bella and Edward. That's how it will _always_ be, because that's how it _has_ always been. So get over yourself."

Isabella was half way out of the apartment, feeling strangely jubilant after her rant, when her cell phone suddenly sprang to life. In a complete fluster, Isabella reached for the wrong coat pocket before finding it and slamming it against her ear.

"Edward?" She asked having had no thought to look at the caller ID.

"No, Isabella," the deep voice answered. "It's Garrett."

Isabella rubbed her palm against her forehead. "You got my text?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Okay. Good. Do you know where he is?"

Garrett cleared his throat in a way that sent ice-cold claws down Isabella's spine, "Oh God, Garrett, what's happened. Speak to me!"

Isabella was so focused on the man at the other end of the phone and the information that he had that she hadn't noticed Rosalie as she made her way across the room towards her. Her face, curtained by waves of beautiful blonde hair, was a mask of indifference that hid a tumult of fear and worry. She leaned casually against the doorjamb and watched what colour there was, drain from the face of Isabella.

"You're sure?" Isabella asked quietly. "I mean, _they're_ sure?"

She nodded slowly then, making the impatience and anxiety sweep through Rosalie like a tsunami.

"I can't believe this. His parole..._Shit_. Can I see him? I want to-...I know, but, Garrett..."

Rosalie kept her eyes on the woman that had stolen her best friend's heart as she paced and clenched her fists. She was beautiful in a clean, fresh _Ralph Lauren Polo Sport_ kind of way, she supposed. She could almost see why Edward liked her. Why he was so besotted, however, was beyond her. She'd never seen him so involved with a woman in all the years that she had known him, never seen him so smitten and serious.

It had seemed amusing at first. Rosalie had seen women in Cullen's life come and go, usually hanging around for no more than one night; two at most, so to hear that he was spending a lot of time with just _one_ woman, had her placing silent bets with herself about the longevity of the whole thing. To say that she was surprised that it had not only lasted, but also out surpassed every date she had in her mind, would have been a gross understatement.

It became fairly obvious, fairly quickly. Her best friend had fallen in love. Hard.

With nothing to do but be there for him should the shit hit the fan, Rosalie hoped to God that _Bella_ was worthy of his fragile heart. If she were not Rosalie would make the bitch regret it for the rest of her life.

=PoF=

Garrett closed his phone slowly and tapped it softly against his chin.

"Is it done?"

He turned gradually, keeping his eyes to the floor. Agent Biers stood at his side, hands on his hips, face far too stern for a man of his young years.

"Yeah," Garrett answered with a slight dip of his chin.

"She buy it?"

"I think so."

"Thinking isn't enough, Volture. Did she buy it?"

Garrett sighed and swallowed a lump of guilt. "Yeah, she bought it."

"Good," Biers replied quickly. "She needs to believe it for this shit to work. I'm not gonna let this all fall apart because of one stupid mistake."

"It won't fall apart as long as _you_ are honest with Edward."

Biers gave a snort that suggested he couldn't have given a shit about Edward or how honest he was meant to be with him.

"You are risking too much with this, Biers," Garrett snapped impatiently. "And all you seem to care about is looking good in front of the Bureau Director. Edward, Isabella, Jacob, for God's sake, there are people's lives at risk here!"

"Don't you think I know that?" Biers barked back with fire in his eyes. "I know what's at stake." He ran a weary hand down his face. "I know it all too well, believe me."

Garrett took a step back from the young agent and observed the lines of stress around the corners of his mouth, the three-day-old stubble that etched his strong jaw, and the creases in the faded black shirt that he wore. To say that he looked tired would have been putting it lightly.

Boy looked exhausted. _Mentally_ exhausted.

Maybe he did understand, Garrett mused. Maybe he had more riding on the whole operation than Garrett had originally thought.

"I need this to work," Biers muttered quietly after a moment of tense silence, as he rested his palms against the edge of the table in front of him. "It _has_ to work. I swear to God, if it kills me, that motherfucker is going down."

=PoF=

Edward was wishing to fuck that he had put his smokes in the pocket of his jeans when he had left Bella's apartment that morning. He could have smashed a whole fucking deck to combat the stress that was giving him the mother of all headaches. With a huff of agitation, he glanced at his watch for the millionth time.

Jesus, he'd been in the fucking place for over an hour without a phone call, a cup of coffee, or anyone telling him just what the hell was going-

The door of the room clicked open revealing two guys who reeked of law enforcement. If the stench hadn't been enough for Edward, it was fairly easy to surmise their day job from the less than stellar appearance of them both. The first was no more than thirty at a polite guess, but looked as though he already needed early retirement. The other, who was older and a lot bitterer and affected by the job, had a tyre of fat around his waist that would have made the Michelin man proud and screamed of doughnuts and stakeouts.

With a wry smirk, Edward wondered if the FBI had invented the word cliché.

"Well it's about damned time," Edward snarled at them both as he pushed away from the wall that he had been leaning against. His ass had grown numb after twenty minutes of nada, so taking Winters' advice and sitting hadn't been an option.

"I'm Agent Bier-"

"Look," Edward interrupted him quickly. "I couldn't give a shit if you're Santa Claus. I want my phone call."

The agent narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly annoyed by Edward's insolence, "Phone call?"

Edward folded his arms defensively across his chest. "You _are_ FBI, right?"

"We are."

"And I _am_ under arrest, right?"

"Yes."

"Then I say again, I _want_ my phone call."

The young agent sighed and dropped his pile of paper work onto the small table at the side of the room. He rubbed the sides of his nose with the tips of his thumb and forefinger and moaned slightly in frustration.

"How about this," he offered as he placed his hands on his hips. "I explain to you just what the hell you're doing here, and _then_ you get your phone call. Sound fair?"

Edward ground his teeth together in frustration. The offer _was_ fair; he wanted to know just what the hell was going on, but he _needed_ to speak to his Peaches. Try and explain. He was sure that she'd be going out of her mind with worry.

"Look," he huffed. "I'm not being an asshole for the sake of it. I just need to make a call. I just need to talk-"

"To Isabella," the young agent interrupted quietly.

Edward froze and clamped his mouth closed. _How the fuck?_ His eyes, which had darkened and narrowed, told the young agent to tread carefully.

"I get it," the agent continued with what sounded suspiciously like sympathy in his voice. "I do. And I promise that you'll speak to her once we're done. Okay?"

Edward watched the agent, searching for any sign of bullshit or double play but, surprisingly, he saw none. He looked tired as fuck, but he was honest. Edward's shoulders lifted and dropped as he took a deep breath of defeat.

"Whatever," he muttered. "Let's just get this shit over with."

The agent nodded and gave a tight-lipped smile. "No problem."

Edward dropped heavily into the groaning plastic seat, and opened and closed his clasped hands on the tabletop in a _what-are-you-waiting-for_ gesture. The two agents slowly and wordlessly took their respective seats and placed a brown criminal file down between them.

"You know that I'm on parole, right?" Edward asked rhetorically. "The fact that I'm sitting here presents a major fucking problem."

"You're parole is fine," the young agent said matter-of-factly, not lifting his eyes from the folder before him. "And you're not under arrest."

Edward let that small nugget of information soak into his head and eyed the two pigs warily. The tension in the room suddenly felt suffocating. Something smelled seriously off.

Dangerous even.

Edward swallowed. "Just what the hell is going on here?" He pressed the tip of his index finger against the table. "If I'm not under arrest, then what you fucks are doing is illegal!"

"As I tried to tell you before you so rudely interrupted me, my name is Agent Biers and you're here, Cullen, because we need information that you have," the agent continued calmly. "We need that information to bring down one of the country's biggest criminals."

_Fuck._

"Aro," Edward whispered.

"Yes," came the curt reply. "Aro Bartollini. A man with so many connections that we have had to present the facade that yourself and Jacob Black have been arrested for purchasing illegal drugs while on parole on the night of the 17th and for your involvement in a fight on the 23rd in which one man had to have his jaw re-wired."

Edward closed his eyes and gulped down his panic.

The drugs. He had bought them in a red haze of jealous fury the night that Bella had gone to see Peter. The drugs that he hadn't touched because Rosalie had flushed them down the toilet.

The fight in the alleyway. The bastards from the club on Halloween. The fight that _Aro_ had organised.

The feds knew about all of it.

This was bad. This was very fucking bad.

For possession of the coke alone, he would be back in Kill for at least another eighteen months. And the fight? It was grievous bodily harm. There was no judge in the world that would let his ass stay out of lock-up.

Suddenly, something in the back of Edward's brain ignited like a furnace. The metaphorical light bulb burned above his head, bright and clear. He opened his eyes and locked stares with Biers.

"It was _you_," he breathed in realisation, bringing his finger up to point at him. "It was you in the alleyway. _You_ were the cop."

Biers remained silent, staring back with knowing in his eyes.

"Why didn't you arrest my ass then?" Edward asked, even though he knew the answer. "Why did you let us go?"

Silence.

"Because you needed us out, right?" He answered with a sarcastic chuckle, "Jacob and I. You needed us for your Bartollini scam."

"I wouldn't call a three year, million dollar, undercover operation, a _scam_, Cullen," Biers exploded. He coughed a laugh of disbelief and annoyance. "You have no fucking idea what the bureau has done to keep you and your _buddy_ Black in the clear so that this didn't fall apart." He leaned towards him, angry and out of patience.

"You're here because we _want_ you to be. You are still on parole because we are _allowing_ you to be. But, believe me, you arrogant shit, I have no problem, no problem whatsofuckingever with throwing your ass is back in Kill faster than you can blink if you give me an ounce trouble or step even a toe outta line."

Edward felt the heat of defence spread across his face and his fists clench tightly in his lap. The man before him meant every single word that he had spat at him and that fact made Edward's blood run cold. It was becoming very apparent that this situation was considerably bigger than he was. A shiver of panic crept down his spine as the overwhelming implications of that began to sink in.

His throat closed around the only word that he could think of. "Isabella-"

"Will be fine as long as you play along, Cullen," Biers interrupted, sitting back in his seat, dropping his eyes to the table. He clasped his hands together and sighed.

"Look, Cullen, I know that you have a lot riding on your parole going smoothly. I know that you have a parole officer and offender's mentor, who both think the sun shines outta your ass."

Edward smiled at this.

"And I know that you have Isabella and she is the most important thing to you." He paused and wiped his palm across his mouth. The sound of his stubble scratching across his skin echoed around the room and rang in Edward's ears.

"But I can guarantee you one thing. If you do this and help bring Bartollini's ass down, you won't even _be_ on parole."

Edward held his breath, waiting for the punch line; the laughter that would tell him that what the agent had just said was utter bullshit.

It never came.

"The board have agreed," Biers continued slowly. "Your slate will be wiped clean. All outstanding charges dropped and your record expunged. You will be free to go anywhere or do whatever you want, legally, of course." He smiled wryly before continuing quietly, seriously.

"I have a lot riding on this too, ya know. I don't want to threaten you with this shit." He waved his hand dismissively over the folder, which Edward now guessed contained all the gory details of his past crimes. "I want to work _with _you, not against you. I know you want payback, and I know that because the fucker had you sent down for something you didn't do."

Edward gaped.

"What?" Biers asked. "Surprised?"

Edward stayed quiet, his eyes flickering between the two men.

"I know that that coke wasn't yours," Biers continued. "Although it was admissible in court and Aro has in fingers in a lot of judicial pies. I know that Jacob was running away with Aro's daughter because she was pregnant, and I know that you took the fall for him so that they could make a go of it." The fed looked appreciative. "That was a hell of a thing to do, man."

"Didn't work though, did it?" Edward asked dryly.

Biers shook his head. "No, it didn't. But maybe with our help you can make it count. Make it all worthwhile."

Edward dropped back in his seat. The air left his lungs in a whoosh of emotional exhaustion. This was some surreal shit. His mind began working at a million miles an hour, processing all the information that he had been served. The fact that he had been sent down for something he didn't do – regardless of whether or not he had placed him_self _in that situation – still stung, especially now he knew the courts had been aware that the dope wasn't his from the get go.

He rubbed his temples and the bridge of his nose as a tension headache the size of Madison Square Garden smacked him directly between the eyes.

"I know that this is a lot to take in," Biers said sympathetically.

"How long?" Edward croaked.

"I'm sorry?" Biers asked, confused.

"How long will it be before that fucker is behind bars?"

Biers swallowed and licked his lips. "We have to, once you have given us the information we need, make a move by the end of the month. We've been given three weeks."

Edward cocked an eyebrow, "New Year?"

Biers smiled back. "I'm all for resolutions."

Edward's levity was short lived as the pressure and danger of the situation began to fester within him, starting in his chest before spreading through his body like a cancer. He felt as though he couldn't breathe. The whole situation was insane. Perilously so. Aro Bartollini was a murderous lunatic who thought nothing of putting a bullet or two in a motherfucker should they lie, cheat or deceive him.

Edward knew; he had seen it.

The whole thing could end up, at best, being a complete catastrophe. At the very least, he could end back in Kill, away from Bella, away from everything that mattered. If that didn't happen he could end up dead. And, truthfully, that wasn't what panicked him most. It was the fact that, if the worst _did_ happen, then his Peaches would be alone, defenceless and in mortal danger. He'd be unable to protect her or keep her safe.

He felt a growl of protectiveness rumble deep within him at the thought of Marcus being anywhere near his woman.

"Edward," Biers said softly, sensing his understandable anxiety, and indecision. "I know that this is dangerous but, believe me, I wouldn't have asked Jacob about you if it wasn't truly necessary. We need as much ammunition as we can get to bring this asshole down, and your statement might just be the silver bullet we need."

Edward grimaced as Biers continued. "You should know that I've been working with Jacob for a while now. I know that he wants what is best for Nessie, just as I do."

Edward glanced at him curiously, but Biers didn't elaborate.

"This _will_ work," Biers assured him. "We will do all we can to protect you _and_ Isabella."

"You don't," Edward muttered through his teeth. "And I'll kill you myself."

Biers smiled wryly and nodded in concession. "We want the same thing here, Edward."

"Really?" Edward growled. "And what exactly is that?"

Biers paused long enough for Edward to look up at him. The smile that crossed his face was devilish and hungry, "My pound of flesh."

=PoF=

Isabella flung herself at her cell phone as it rang from its place on the coffee table in Edward's apartment.

"Hello?" she answered frantically as she paced across the room, away from Rosalie who was still sitting on the sofa.

"Peaches." His voice sounded far away, tired and etched in relief.

"Oh, sweetheart," she gasped as her heart slammed behind her ribs. She found herself clutching her chest in an effort to calm it, as her words tripped out of her mouth. "Are you alright? Have they charged you? I've been so worried. Garrett called and I...I didn't know what to do. What the hell's going on? He told me to stay at your apartment and-"

"Shhh, I know, baby," he said quietly. "I know. It's alright. I'm so sorry."

Isabella took a deep breath and closed her eyes at the exhaustion she heard around the words he murmured. "What are you sorry for?"

"Everything," he breathed after a moment's silence.

"What's going on, Edward?" Isabella asked, feeling panic start to claw its way up the back of her throat. "Are you coming home?"

"Yes," he answered quickly. "I'll be home soon."

"So you're okay? You're free and still...on parole?"

Edward paused for one horrifying minute. "Bella, it's complicated, but I'll be home. I promise. Will you stay there? Will you wait for me?"

"Always, baby," she replied, feeling confusion start to dilute her alarm. "Will you tell me what's going on?"

Edward sighed down the phone, filling Isabella's ear with an echo of warmth. She was immediately desperate to feel his arms around her, holding her close and keeping her safe. She felt terrifyingly lost without him.

"Bella," he said determinedly. "Do you trust me?"

Isabella frowned slightly. "Of course I trust you. I _love_ you."

Edward paused and, when he spoke again, Isabella was sure she heard the remnants of a smile. "I love you too, Peaches. So fucking much. I just need you to trust me, okay. Can you do that?"

Isabella nodded slowly. "Yes. I can do that."

"Thank you."

"Will I ever understand what's going on?" She asked timidly, hating the shake in her voice and the tears in her eyes.

"I promise that I will explain everything when I can. I swear to you," Edward whispered fervently. "I just need to know that you're safe. You'll stay at the apartment, right?"

"Right."

"Okay," he sighed. "I love you. I'll see you soon."

"I love you too, Edward."

"Bye."

Isabella pressed end call on her phone and at once wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold all of her emotions beneath the skin, away from the surface for fear that, once released, there would be no stopping the torrent of tears and questions. Rosalie cocked a curious eyebrow in her direction, moving to the edge of the sofa.

The last few hours with her had been tense to say the very least, with neither she nor Rosalie saying very much. But, Isabella felt, deep inside, they had come to a silent agreement that, despite their differences, they both cared very much for Edward.

"So what's the deal?" Rosalie asked; the curtness from her tone had seemingly disappeared.

Isabella took a moment to realise that she had been spoken to. She felt dizzy, disorientated, and sick. She looked up, and blinked slowly.

"He's coming back soon," she answered stiffly. She knew that the words should have made her feel better, but something about them tasted false and scary in her mouth.

"Well, that's good," Rosalie said dismissively, picking up her drink from the table. Isabella's lack of response, however, must have indicated that, actually, not all was 'good.' Her beautiful face flashed with concern. "What's wrong?"

Isabella shook her head. "I don't know. He sounded so tired. He...wouldn't tell me what's going on. I don't even know if he's...Something...something isn't right." Isabella's voice cracked at the end of her sentence, becoming high, bordering on hysterical.

She closed her eyes, the emotional dam in her shattering, as tears cascaded down her face. An odd, uncomfortable combination of relief and anxiety wracked her body making her shake from head to toe. She cupped a hand quickly to her mouth to hold in the sounds of panic that threatened to rip from her chest as the sick realisation of the situation began to settle into her bones.

What if he went back to Kill? _Oh God._ She couldn't lose him_. His parole_. She couldn't live without him. What would she _do_? She'd visit him, of course, but the thought of not touching him, holding him, kissing him made her knees go weak.

She could no more live without him as she could without oxygen.

It took Isabella a moment to realise that, not only was she muttering her fears aloud, but also small yet strong arms had enveloped her, and her nose had become buried within a waterfall of golden hair that smelled of honey. Rosalie held her, stroking her back soothingly, shushing gentle reassurances into her ear. Isabella collapsed against her soft body and cried quietly.

She allowed Rosalie to walk her to the sofa and leaned her head against her shoulder.

"Everything will be okay," Rosalie assured her when Isabella's tears began to slow. "I know it will."

"But...I can't...what if...I've waited so long for him."

Rosalie hugged Isabella tighter, "As he has for you."

"I love him _so_ much," Isabella whimpered.

Without thinking, Rosalie brushed her lips tenderly against Isabella's hair. She sighed and nodded slowly. "I know you do."

=PoF=

Peter Whitlock stared hard at his reflection in the gold gilded mirror of his office's private bathroom and smiled at what he saw. He had to confess; he was a handsome son of a bitch.

His hair was thick and still dark with small flecks of grey that suggested sophistication as opposed to age. His face was firm, with laughter lines around his eyes that added warmth, and his figure was trim and fit, hugged fantastically by the Armani suit that adorned it.

Overall, life was pretty damned good.

Yes, he was divorced. Shit happened. But he had a relationship with his son that he wouldn't change for all the world.

And, yes, he still had issues with a family member who would forever be the thorn in his side that he wanted nothing more than to pull out and crush under his shoe. But that shit was being handled too. He'd been told not three hours before about his pain in the ass cousin's most recent run in with the law. Whitlock grinned. Being arrested on the street in broad daylight wouldn't look good to the parole board and, from what his source had seen; the guys who picked him up looked more like Feds than normal cops.

His grin widened. Cullen would be behind bars again before the ball dropped in Time Square. It was just a question of when. A burst of dark wavy hair and large brown eyes flashed in the back of Whitlock's mind.

_Isabella._

The one that got away?

Maybe.

Peter had always considered himself a charming bastard. Although their last meeting had been…conflicted at best, he still saw a chance with her. Who knew, once her convict was back behind bars and she realised what a fuck-up he really was, she'd appreciate a strong shoulder to cry on.

He smirked, and imagined Cullen's face once the Feds put the cuffs on him and threw his ass away for the last time. _Sweet._ Peter felt his pulse quicken and his palms perspire but reined his thoughts in quickly. Now was no time for being anywhere but on the fucking ball.

Discipline.

It was power time.

Power suit. Power stare. He surveyed himself one more time.

It was all in place.

He adjusted the large silk knot at his neck and took a deep breath.

Show time.

He strode out of his bathroom and nodded sharply at Jasper who was, as always, looking like little boy lost.

"Get your shit together, Jas," Peter snapped as he pressed for his secretary on the phone at the edge of his desk. "We need to own this."

"Yeah," came his brother's reply.

"You can send him in," Peter ordered down the receiver, before his secretary even responded.

Leaning against the desk, Peter looked squarely at his accounts manager and litigator who nodded back with straight, business faces that would have made any normal grown man shit in his pants. Everything was perfect.

There was a sharp knock on the door before the handle turned and a tall, blonde man in a fabulous grey Gucci suit walked confidently into the office. Peter was a little taken aback by the obvious ease at which he entered - man looked completely unruffled - but covered it, as he always did, with a commanding smile and an outstretched hand.

"Mr Damon," he crooned. "Welcome."

"Mr Whitlock," Jamie replied, feeling the heat instantly start to permeate the underarms of his shirt.

_Fuck. _The blood was most definitely pumping, as was the adrenaline that made the tips of his fingers twitch and the knot in his stomach tighten.

He took Whitlock's hand and shook it firmly, keeping eye contact the entire time. He wasn't a pussy by any stretch of the imagination; he'd been in offices like the one he was standing in many times, and dealt with assholes like Whitlock on a regular basis, but what he was about to do was nothing that he had ever been involved in and, if handled badly, could be a complete and utter catastrophe. Too many people were counting on him to keep his cool; people he cared about.

_Christ._

He swallowed and placed himself in one of the twelve ridiculously luxurious chairs that Whitlock indicated next to a huge glass table.

"Water?" Whitlock asked as he too sat down.

Jamie's mouth was drier than the Sahara, but he wasn't about to give the fucker the satisfaction of seeing just how uncomfortable he was. "No," he replied casually, as he opened his briefcase, keeping his eyes down and fixed on what he was doing. "I'm good. This won't take long."

He ignored the slight derisive snort that he heard come from Whitlock. "Yes, I'm sure it won't. But, alas, you were a little vague on the details when we spoke and arranged this meeting. Would you be so kind as to explain just exactly why you are here?"

"I am here on behalf of my clients," Jamie answered swiftly.

Whitlock rolled his eyes. "That part I had gathered," he mocked. "The question is, who?"

"Mr Edward Cullen," Jamie threw back firmly, his gaze nailing Whitlock to his chair. He placed a folder on the glass table, "Mrs Annabella Murphy _and_ Miss Isabella Swan."

As he spoke each name, Jamie placed another folder onto the table, and watched as the colour of arrogance and control slowly seeped from Whitlock's face.

_Bingo._

"The reason I was vague about this meeting, Mr Whitlock," Jamie began, while calmly steepling his hands on the table, "is because, as you can surmise, the situation, for you, is a delicate one."

Whitlock remained stock-still, "How so?"

Jamie smirked at the attempt at nonchalance and opened Cullen's file. "As you are obviously aware, your largest shareholder is Mr. E Cullen of New York, as was directed by his," Jamie looked up with a sparkle in his eyes, "_your_ grandmother's will."

Whitlock sat back in his seat and crossed his right leg over his left. He looked like he was ready to pounce. "I am very well aware of that, Mr Damon. What's your point?"

"My _point_ is that my client has, on several occasions, asked for his shares to be either liquidated or his share within the company be acknowledged with an appropriate salary and input on all company decisions, including those at board level." Jamie paused. He was met with nothing but stern, unforgiving eyes and a silence that boomed recklessly around the room. "He hasn't been granted either."

Whitlock ran the tip of his index finger across his top lip and exhaled noisily down his nose. "Mr Damon," he began in a careful tone. "Your client has been in and out of prison for the past fifteen years on charges ranging from drug dealing to carjacking. As I'm sure _you_ can appreciate, it isn't in the company's best interest to advertise such…unsavoury behaviour."

Jamie smiled stiffly. "Of course, but still, regardless of the other shareholders knowing – more of which I'll come to in a moment – do you not think it important to pay my client accordingly or at least offer a gesture of goodwill."

Whitlock shifted in his seat. "And what exactly would a gesture of good will look like?"

"A sixty per cent increase on his current yearly income, input on all decisions at board level and an assurance that his shares will not be diluted...with or without the threat of blackmail."

The air around the two men suddenly became stifling. One of the suits standing at the back of the room twitched uneasily, shifting like a snake. There was the sound of a throat being cleared.

"I'd be careful which words you choose, Mr Damon," Whitlock warned. "Walls have ears, you know."

"Oh," Jamie answered unwaveringly as he dropped several black and white pictures – all of which Whitlock had seen before they were mailed to Isabella's mother. "I know."

Whitlock, with eyes like granite, stared hard at the fucker before him. Under the smirking baby face and blonde hair lay a potential shitstorm of epic proportions. Peter had covered his tracks, of course, but the sad truth was, no-one in New York could do business without getting their hands dirty once in a while.

The trick had always been to keep them as clean as possible after the event.

The man Peter had hired, the man who had followed and taken the pictures of Cullen and Isabella, was a nobody, paid with cash that couldn't be traced back to him or the company...but, still...had there been loose ends missed?

The ground under Peter Whitlock's two-thousand dollar loafers suddenly began to feel unsteady.

He glanced once more at the photographs; a beautiful shot of Isabella laughing and looking adoringly at Cullen; the two of them leaving her apartment with the backs of their fingers whispering against one another's as they walked. They had tried so damned hard to hide their affair to no avail. The expression on Isabella's face alone gave her feelings away. In every picture, as she looked at Cullen, her eyes beamed with serenity and a tenderness that increased her beauty ten-fold.

_Christ_. She really did love the bastard.

Whitlock stayed silent and pressed a sweating palm down the front of his tie.

"My second client, Annabella Murphy," Jamie continued. "Was only made aware of her share in your company just recently, but has since learned that, as well as her twenty percent stake, she also has a personal vested interest in WCS Communications."

"I'm intrigued," Whitlock snarled.

"Annabella Murphy is Isabella Swan's grandmother," Jamie explained slowly and in a patronising tone that made even Jasper's skin crawl. "And, in light of recent, shall we say...actions on your part," he gestured with a sweeping hand towards the photographs. "She is very interested in taking those shares elsewhere."

The black suit, whom Jamie could only assume was a member of Whitlock's finance team, was slowly turning the colour of a raspberry while simultaneously gaping at the side of Whitlock's head with eyes that screamed _what-the-fuck-do-we-do?_

"I know all of my major shareholders personally," Whitlock breathed menacingly, his cool veneer fracturing. "I know everything that goes on in this company, and I'm sure that I would have known that Ms Murphy was Isabella's grandmother." He leaned forward slightly; his eyes alight with fiery doubt. "Are you _sure_ about this?"

"One hundred percent, Mr Whitlock, and I have all the appropriate documentation here for your...perusal." Jamie slid the brown folder across the table with a smile.

Once again, Whitlock stared hard at Jamie. The menace that spread across his face was, truly, terrifying. He was no longer the big dog. He had his ass against the wall, and he didn't like it.

Not. One. Bit.

"What. Do. You. Want?" he asked through gritted, white teeth.

Jamie sat back and met Whitlock's gaze. "Together, my clients, Cullen and Murphy, own eighty percent of WCS Communications with a combined value of $600 million dollars." He cocked an eyebrow. "If they were to cash in those shares it would be one hell of a blow for your investors, right?"

"What. Do. You. Want?" Whitlock repeated in a breath that reeked of anger.

"I want you to honour the good will proposal for Edward Cullen, effective immediately. I want written confirmation of said honouring in triply, signed by yourself and your CFO faxed through to my office and to my client by the end of business today. I want funds transferred to an account of his choosing by the same time and his name put back on the public shareholder list."

It was Jamie's turn to sit forward. He felt his protective hackles rise and his blood thunder in his ears. He dropped his chin and glowered at Whitlock.

"And, on a more personal note, Mr Whitlock," he sneered. "I want you to leave Isabella Swan the fuck alone. Because, Sir, if you do not, an ex-convict of the company board will be the least of your problems. I know people. I know very..._powerful_ people, and I have your ass here for blackmail with malicious intent, unlawful holding of funds and...well, I'm sure the police would be interested to know why you have surveillance pictures of two of my clients without their knowledge." He held up a picture of Isabella, "Especially when one of them is the daughter of a much revered deceased senator."

Jamie released the photograph so that it sailed elegantly back down to the table, drifting from side to side in graceful silence. He picked up his briefcase and stood from his seat at the same time that Whitlock sprung from his own chair, moving so close to him that Jamie could feel his breath on his chin.

"You are playing a very dangerous game here, Damon," Whitlock growled. "And you had better know one thing: I don't lose. I always win, one way or another, I _always_ fucking win."

"Well," Jamie answered quietly standing toe-to-toe with him. "It doesn't seem that way in this case now, does it?"

After a beat of tense silence, Jamie turned from Peter Whitlock and walked towards the office door.

"Oh, and by the way," he said cheerfully as he pulled the door open and looked back. "You can keep those photographs, Peter. I have copies."

=PoF=

Aro Bartollini rested in his opulent office, reclining in a high-backed brown, leather chair, while he gazed out of a window that looked over the rolling grounds of his estate. He watched enraptured as Vanessa played lovingly with her son, pulling icicles from the branches of the apple trees; watching their breath rise into grey spirals towards the heavens.

Bartollini, slowly and cautiously, allowed himself the pleasure of feeling entirely content. Life was, for a change, peaceful. He had a beautiful, loyal wife, a beautiful (if a little defiant) daughter, and grandson, whom he had grown to love despite his unfavourable genetic makeup, as well as having more power and money than any man really needed.

Of course, he mused with a long exhale of somnolent breath, it could all be the calm before the storm.

If it had not been for the office door flying open and the heaving breaths of the man that had opened it, Bartollini would have lost himself to the feeling. As it was, he simply remained silent and still, and waited for whatever news was so important to interrupt his precious quiet time.

"They arrested Cullen, Sir. The Feds have him."

Bartollini waited. Silence. "Black too?"

"Yes, Sir. They are both in custody. Sturridge said that this time they are both going down for a long time. The state attorney has been contacted."

Bartollini smirked. Sturridge was their man on the inside and his information was, more often than not, clean and reliable. However, Bartollini was a creature of habit.

"They'll hit bail regardless," he said confidently. "They have the means so I want a trail on both of their asses. I want regular updates on what they do, who they see, what they eat, who they're fucking, the works. Got it?"

"Yessir."

With the bang of the office door, Bartollini closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Black and Cullen. The two thorns in his side.

The two bastards who, had he gotten the chance, would have been six feet underground years ago. It wasn't Cullen so much as it was Black. Bartollini knew that, should he find out that he had a son; Black would be at his door in a heartbeat. The fucker had been sniffing around a lot recently and, Bartollini knew, it was only a matter of time before Vanessa and he met again. The one thing that Bartollini had learned while Black worked for him was that he was a tenacious son-of-a-bitch.

In fact, for a time, he'd even admired that about him.

Yes, he thought, the winds of a tempest were definitely stirring. It was just a question of whose direction they would favour: his or the thorns.

Aro Bartollini re-opened his eyes and looked back out into the garden. It took him a moment to realise that Vanessa was staring up at him, her dark hair blowing around her. Her face, as beautiful as it was, was etched in sadness. Even after the time that had passed, his daughter was still lost to her grief; the grief that he had caused.

Against the white of the snow under her feet, Bartollini could not help but think that Vanessa looked like a ghost, and, simultaneously, could not help the chill that ran through him when he did.

=PoF=

Cullen's breath erupted out of his lungs, as Bella collided with his chest. Her arms wrapped quickly and tightly around his neck and her small feet curled desperately around his calves.

"Hey, hey," he whispered into her hair once he had regained himself and his balance. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm here."

She whimpered into his neck. "I was so scared."

"I know it, baby," he crooned as he kissed the white skin of her shoulder. "But everything's alright. I promise."

He rubbed a hand down her spine and breathed her scent into his lungs. Jesus, it felt like forever since he had had her in his arms. Opening his eyes, Cullen noticed Rosalie standing by the sofa, arms crossed awkwardly over her chest.

He smiled tightly. "Hey," he offered. Rosalie nodded and chewed on her bottom lip, a gesture that Cullen had not seen for years. It happened when she was stressed or anxious. "I'm okay," he reiterated to both of the women before him.

With a small sniffle and a sigh, Bella slowly released her grip on him and slid down his body. She cupped his jaw in her hands and kissed him hard on the lips. Cullen's breath was once again stolen from him. He encircled her in his arms and kissed her back, letting his tongue touched the tip of hers in small, restrained flicks. The time would come for more, but, for now, he would have to be patient.

He rubbed the apples of her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs and pulled back from her. Her eyes were lined in red from her tears and the end of her nose was tinged in pink. He placed a kiss there, wondering fleetingly if he had every actually kissed that part of her before.

"I love you," he sighed against her forehead.

"I love you," she answered as her fists tightened in the hem of his shirt.

Rosalie cleared her throat making Cullen smile. "I love you too, Rosie."

"Sure," she retorted. "That's why I haven't heard from you in, like, forever."

Cullen rolled his eyes. "Well, I've been, _like_, busy," he mimicked.

"So I see." Rosalie eyed Bella in his arms, still holding onto him for dear life.

"Don't-," Cullen began in warning before Rosalie lifted her palm, halting his words.

"I didn't mean it that way," she said in a tone that suggested she meant it.

"Rosalie has been with me all afternoon," Bella mumbled into his chest. "She didn't leave me once."

Rosalie was suddenly fascinated by the toe of her right boot, "Didn't have anywhere else to be is all."

Cullen smiled wider. "Thanks," he mouthed.

Rosalie blinked in acknowledgement. "You look like you could use a beer," she murmured as she made her way to the refrigerator and pulled out three Corona.

Cullen, with Bella tucked safely under his arm, manoeuvred to the sofa and sat down with a long sigh.

"What the hell happened?" Bella asked as Rosalie handed them both their drinks.

Cullen took a hefty swig and rubbed his right palm down the side of his face. "I was arrested."

"Why?" Bella protested instantly, anger flashing in her eyes. "You haven't done anything!"

"I know," Cullen placated with a hand on her thigh. "I know, but it's all okay, trust me."

Bella sat back with a confused yet annoyed frown creasing her brow. "Okay? Are you serious? Edward, this could affect your parole! This could affect _everything_!"

"Hey," he urged, sitting forward and taking her forearm in his hand. "Calm down. I'm here."

Bella's face softened infinitesimally, but her fear was still prevalent in the chocolate of her eyes. "I...I'm sorry, I am, but I don't understand. Garrett didn't tell me anything. He was so fucking vague on the phone."

"He had to be," Cullen said as he pulled his smokes from his pocket. "It's a...complex situation."

"I'm sure I can keep up," Bella snarked. She sat back on the couch and crossed her arms over her chest.

Cullen snorted at her attempt at intimidation and flicked his lighter, pulling the luscious smoke into his lungs before slowly breathing it out. The wave of relaxation washed over him instantly.

"Waiting," Rosalie remarked from her seat.

Cullen looked at the two women in turn and shook his head. "Christ," he muttered as he sipped at his drink. "Look, the most important thing that you have to know is that my parole is fine. In fact, in a few weeks, if everything goes according to plan, I won't even be on parole anymore."

He placed a hand over Bella's mouth before she could say a word. "Baby, I love you, but just shut the fuck up for a minute and let me explain."

Although her eyes narrowed over the top of his hand, Bella acquiesced and sat back, allowing Cullen to explain the dangerous situation that they found themselves in. He told them about the Fed who had been watching their backs for weeks, with his own agenda; the State Attorney's word that, should Cullen give evidence against Bartollini, his record would be expunged and he would be free to live his life with his Peaches; Jacob; Vanessa, and her involvement with the Feds.

The silence that followed Cullen's story was deafening.

Rosalie was the first to speak. "You mean to tell me that you only got parole so that Biers could use you in bringing down this Aro guy?"

"Yup."

"Jesus."

Bella stared at Cullen in absolute disbelief. "So...we're being watched?" she asked tentatively. "We're being watched by...Aro's men, right now?"

Cullen tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and sighed. "Yeah, we are, but the fuzz are on it." He pulled her closer to him and cupped her face. "I swear to God, I will keep you safe, Bella. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise."

Her head leaned slightly into his right palm. "It's not me that I'm worried about."

The left side of Cullen's mouth lifted. "I'll be fine. They can't touch me."

Bella closed her eyes slowly, trying to will away the awful images that threatened to darken her mind.

"So, Aro thinks that you and Jake got bailed?" Rosalie asked.

"Yeah," Cullen clarified. "Apparently Bartollini's men had an agent on the inside. They've flushed him out, but are still using him to feed bogus information to his boss. As of this moment, Bartollini thinks that we've been bailed and that the State Attorney has been contacted."

"Which he has..." Bella murmured.

"Yeah, but not for the reasons that Aro thinks."

Rosalie sat forward and twisted her hands together. "Is it really that simple?"

Cullen looked directly at his friend and exhaled. He couldn't lie to her. Shit, he couldn't lie to either of them. He had to be honest. He had to be honest with his Peaches. He cleared his throat and dropped his chin to his chest.

"No," he replied quietly. "It's not that simple."

Bella stroked the back of his head and shuffled even closer to him. He smelled her soft, sensual scent and took a deep breath.

"Edward, are we in danger?"

Cullen gradually lifted his head and let his eyes find hers. Dammit, she was beautiful. "Yes, we are." Quickly, he turned to face her fully and clasped her hands securely in his. "But no more so than we were this morning, baby. The only difference is...we know about it now."

Bella nodded slowly. "They'll protect us, the police...the Feds?"

Cullen kissed the back of her left hand. "Biers gave me his word," he offered.

"And do you trust him?"

Cullen paused and thought back to the young arrogant Fed who had laid so much and had worked so hard on the operation.

"Yeah, I do," he answered honestly. "Biers has his own reasons for bringing that bastard down."

"He does?" Bella asked with a cocked eyebrow. "What, like, for a promotion?"

Cullen smirked around his cigarette and shook his head. "No, baby, like he's Aro's illegitimate son."

=PoF=

Vanessa pressed the green button on her cell and held her breath.

"They're in. Everything's in place."

She exhaled and closed her eyes. "Jacob?"

"Is fine."

"So...what happens now?"

"You keep doing what you're doing. The State Attorney wants us to move by the end of the month-"

"End of the month?" Vanessa exclaimed in a high-pitched screech. "You mean I have to be here for another month? Riley, I can't...I can't...my _son_, Riley."

"I promised you that I'd keep the both of you safe and I will," Biers said firmly. "I just need you to be strong for a little while longer."

Vanessa felt her panic rise through her chest, "I...I don't-"

"Nessie, please," he begged. "I swear it'll be over before you know it."

Vanessa dropped heavily onto the edge of her bed, one hand holding the phone to her ear while the other gripped her hair tightly.

"It will be over soon, won't it?" She asked desperately, as tears of fear slipped noiselessly down her cheeks. "Tell me it will."

Biers licked his lips. "It will. I promise. It'll all be over soon."

Vanessa nodded, allowing the words to seep cautiously into her tired brain. "Okay," she whimpered, "A month."

"Everything's gonna work out, Ness," Biers assured her. "I swear to God it will. I'm gonna make sure that you and your son are safe. Do you trust me?"

Silence.

"Do you trust me, Vanessa?"

Vanessa bit her lip and hummed a response.

"Say it," Biers ordered. "I need to know that you're with me on this."

Vanessa wiped the tears from her cheeks and sighed. "I trust you Riley. You're my brother, of course I trust you."

Biers shoulders dropped in relief. "Good...that's good. Look, I'll be in touch, okay? I gotta go."

Vanessa smiled wryly. "Okay."

"Bye."

The sound of their connection being severed was followed immediately by a muffled shout and the feeling of having one's body rammed by a fucking elephant. It took Biers a couple of seconds to realise that the shout had come from his partner at the end of the hall, and that the elephant was in fact Jacob Black who had him pinned to the wall by his lapels with a look of pure violence in his eyes.

"What the-...was that...?" Jacob croaked. He pulled Biers towards him before throwing back against the wall, "A son. She has a fucking _son_?"

Biers held up his hand, stopping his partner from ripping Jacob off him. He turned back and looked directly into Jacob's eyes.

"Yes," he replied. "She does."

He felt Jacob shake, his large legs wobbling beneath him.

"Say it," Jacob growled, as tears filled his wide, terrified eyes. "Tell me the truth or I walk."

Biers grit his teeth as Jacob bellowed once more into his face, "Fucking _say it_!"

His voice smashed around the hallway, stunning those around him into silence. Biers swallowed and nodded slowly as the words crept quietly from his lips.

"Yes, Jacob. He is. He's your son."

**Holy shiteth hiteth the fan, Batman!**

**I hope you can understand that my fragile heart isn't quite ready to write a lemon yet. Sorry.**

**Hopefully next chapter will be a little easier.**

**I'm trying to tie up all the loose ends of the story now. Hope it's working for you.**

**Follow me on Twitter:- (at)sophiejax**

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**Thank you all again.**

**TTFN xx**

"


	44. Chapter 44

**Evening, afternoon, morning all!**

**Yes, this is a new chapter – hold the front page. **

**Can I start by thanking you all from the bottom of my heart for your continued support and patience these past three months between updates? The DMs, FB messages, emails and PMs, make writing this so much easier.**

**Without you, PoF wouldn't be where it is today, so thank you, thank you, thank you.**

**As we all know, there are elements and people in this fandom that make it difficult sometimes, but your unwavering love continues to lift me above it. I'll never be able to express my gratitude, but I'm sending cyber hugs to each of you.**

**So, here we go.**

**Last chapter, Jamie annihilated Peter in the boardroom and Jacob found out that he was a baby daddy.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter Songs:**_Emeli Sande, My Kind of Love. Ed Sheeran, Wake Me Up. Damian Rice, Canonball. Mumford and Sons, White Blank Page. Jessie J, Who You Are. __Incubus, I Miss You. Elton John, Sorry Seems to be The Hardest Word. Jessie J, We Found Love (Live Lounge Version)._

**Chapter 43: Lost and Found**

Rage.

That's all that he could feel.

That's all he could think: pure unadulterated rage.

When Jacob had overheard Biers' phone conversation and the pieces had slid together with devastating and horrific clarity, the rage that had boiled and erupted within him was indiscriminate and explosive. His knuckles had been white as they had gripped Biers' lapels and slammed him against the wall, and his head had pounded with a million different questions and even more emotions that were white hot and furious.

"_Yes, Jacob. He is. He's your son."_

Never, in all his life, in everything that he had ever done, said or been witness to, _never_ had Jacob Black been so terrified by seven small words.

Son.

He had a _son_. A son denied him for far too long, a son that was now, in all probability, walking, talking, or both.

An image of a small smiling boy with jet-black hair and dark eyes flashed across Jacob's vision as his grip on Biers loosened and his knees slowly gave way. He landed, ass first, panting and clutching at his chest, as his back slumped against the wall behind him.

He wrapped his large forearms around his knees, bringing them closer to his body, and buried his tear-stained face into them. He cried as he had never cried before. He cried because he was furious and could barely contain it. He cried for the part of himself that had been left without, a vital part, an integral part, and he cried for Vanessa.

His beautiful Vanessa who had been all alone in bringing up their little boy.

Jesus, what she must think of him. She would think him a coward, a cheat, a fucking waste of space.

And she'd be right.

"Jacob." The voice was deep and sympathetic. "Jacob, how could you have known?"

A large hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed. "It's alright, man. It's alright."

Jacob shook his head and clenched his eyes shut. No.

No, it was very fucking far from alright.

"Aro would have killed you. If Vanessa had stayed with you, he would have killed all of you. It was the only choice she could make." Biers was suddenly sitting beside him.

"That..." Jacob's voice broke. "That bastard has...he's taken everything from me."

"I know," Biers answered quietly. "He's taken everything from me too."

Jacob raised his head and looked at the man beside him. "What?" He sat back and rested his head against the wall. "Why is this case so fucking important to you?"

Biers gave a wry smile as he stared at his hands. It was a long tense moment before he started speaking.

"My mother was a servant in the Bartollini house hold thirty years ago. She was beautiful, innocent. She caught the eye of one Aro Bartollini, the eldest son of Joseph Bartollini, the favoured son who would take over his father's multi-million dollar drug and arms business. The Bartollini dynasty was all that mattered, and an illegitimate child would not do. It wouldn't do at all."

Biers looked straight at Jacob, his voice angry yet even. "After an affair of a year, he ordered my mother to have an abortion and fired her. He threw her out of the house after feeding his father some bullshit about her needing to be with her dying mother." Biers shook his head. "He left her with nothing. She was nothing to him._ I _am nothing to him."

Jacob blinked in shock. _Well, fuck..._

"He's...he's your father?"

Biers shook his head. "No," he answered resolutely. "He's not my father. He's a fucking sperm donor with a handgun." His eyes washed with vengeance. "A man like him loves no one but himself. He cares about money, nothing more, nothing less. He doesn't even care about Nessie."

Jacob felt a shock of realisation sprint up his spine. "Christ, she's your sister."

Biers nodded, "Half. But at this point, she's the only family I've got, her_ and_ my nephew."

Jacob closed his eyes and let his head fall back. "Fuck, what a mess."

Biers nudged Jacob's arm with his own. "Stay the course, Jacob, and I promise you that this mess will be cleared up, and you, Vanessa and Ben will be together."

Jacob's head almost swivelled off his neck, "B-Ben. My son's name is Ben?"

Biers smiled lightly, "Yeah. Benjamin Jacob. I have it on good authority that Bartollini went apoplectic when he heard the middle name choice."

The two men sniggered, the sound echoing strangely around the small hallway. Jacob wiped at his eyes with the tips of his fingers and sighed despondently.

"My son doesn't know who I am_. Shit_. I've missed out on so much." He closed his eyes and licked his lips, "And Vanessa. It has been so long. So much has happened. I wouldn't even know what to say to her."

"You will," Biers replied softly, "When the time comes you'll know exactly what to say."

=PoF=

Cullen lay comfortably on the couch with his hands behind his head and Bella resting on top of him. Even though his eyes were closed he knew that she was staring at him. He could feel the warmth of her look on his skin, and revelled in the prickles of desire that they left in their wake. He took a deep breath and exhaled, smiling at the weight of his woman on his chest. It made him feel safe, loved, and impossibly happy.

"I don't know what I would do if I lost you, Edward." Bella's voice was small and frightened.

Cullen opened his eyes slowly and looked at her. She was fingering the neck of his t-shirt and biting her lip. Her eyes were downcast and lacked the fire that he so often saw in them. Carefully, Cullen placed his fingers under her chin and lifted her head.

"Hey. You're not going to lose me," he said fervently. "I'm here. I'm fine and I'm not going anywhere."

Bella blinked slowly as she shifted above him. "I know, but-"

"No," Cullen interrupted. "No buts." Holding Bella's body close to his, he sat up and cupped her small face in his hands. "I know you're scared, baby, and I know that this comes from a place of loss and anger, but _nothing_ is going to happen to me. _Nothing_."

She opened her mouth to protest but was unable to before Cullen's lips crashed against hers. The kiss was hard and desperate and, within seconds, she yielded to him and knotted her fingers into his hair. He moaned as her tongue sought his and gasped when his hands left her face and found her breasts with firmness and familiarity. She tasted and felt so damned good. Cullen smiled when her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, wanting and needing to be so much closer. He nibbled on her lip and breathed into her before dropping his mouth and groaning softly into the fragile skin of her throat.

The sound of the intercom buzzing around the apartment, however, was a fucking death knell to Cullen's growing erection.

He grunted into Bella's neck. "The fuck is that?"

_Jesus, they'd only just gotten rid of Rosalie!_

"I don't know," Bella answered with an unmistakable swivel of her hips against his.

"Ignore it," Cullen growled as he grabbed her ass and lifted his own, pushing himself to where he knew she was hot and wet.

"It's your apartment," she giggled and groaned in reply. "_I_ can ignore it all day long. You, on the other hand, need to see if it's important."

The intercom sounded again, longer this time, making Cullen's teeth slam together and his body drop back down onto the couch in frustration.

"I swear to God," he growled as he lifted Bella roughly from his lap. "Unless someone is dead or dying, I'm going to kill a motherfucker."

He stood, adjusted himself, and marched across the apartment, flicking a middle finger in Bella's direction when he heard her giggle.

"What?" he barked down the receiver, garnering a look of disapproval from Bella who was fixing her ruffled hair.

"Um, I'm sorry to bother you, Mr Cullen," Fred stammered at the other end. "But I have a Mr Damon here to see you. He says it's urgent."

Cullen knocked his forehead against the wall in annoyance. "Is he dead or dying?" he asked dryly.

There was a beat of stunned silence. "I'm sorry, Sir, I don't-..."

"Never mind, Fred. Send him up."

Slamming down the receiver, Cullen took the dead bolt off the door. "It's Jamie," he said, answering Bella's unspoken question. "I guess we'll see what Peter's reaction was."

He strolled over to the fridge and grabbed three bottles of beer. He still wasn't Jamie's number one fan by any stretch of the imagination, and the way he looked at his Peaches continued to make Cullen's blood boil and his fists twitchy, but the fucker had come through for them. The least he could do was offer the bastard a cold beer.

"Do you think it went okay?" Bella asked as she hurried across the apartment, almost tripping over herself as she did.

For the first time, Cullen suddenly noticed how pale she looked. Dark shadows had appeared under her eyes and her cheekbones seemed slightly more prominent. Her hands twisted together with anxiety and the constant lip biting had made her lips sore and dry. In truth, she looked exhausted. Cullen felt a twinge of guilt and, with it, anger at the base of his neck.

Slowly, he placed the bottles on the countertop and walked towards her. He pushed her hair from her shoulder before he gathered her into his arms and hugged her as tightly as he could. She felt slimmer too.

"I'm sure it went fine," he answered quietly into her neck. "I'm more worried about you."

He felt her tense against him. "Me?"

"Yeah," he replied as he lifted his head and looked down at her. "You look so tired, baby." He let the tips of his index finger skim across the skin under her eyes. "You worry too much. Are you sleeping?"

She stayed most nights at his apartment and he had always thought she slept fine. He spooned her and they slept. At least that's what he thought.

"I sleep okay," she answered noncommittally with a shrug. "But I have a lot on my mind."

_Because of me..._

The words never came, but they still tasted like crap at the back of Cullen's throat. He exhaled and closed his eyes to fight off the culpability that slithered through him. Bella's small hand on his cheek gave him only a momentary reprieve.

"I'm fine," she said tenderly.

Cullen opened his eyes and gave her a sceptical look.

"I _will_ be fine," she amended with a wry smile. "Once I know everything is the way we need or want it to be then I'll be right as rain."

Cullen felt his shoulders slump. "I feel like I've left you alone in this," he confessed miserably. It was true; he should have paid more attention to what was going on with her.

"Don't be silly," Bella admonished. "What more can you do when you're in this with me? You've been incredible. I couldn't have asked for anything more from you." She let her fingers glide deliciously up the ink on his forearm, "Other than your promise that you will keep safe."

Cullen nodded slowly. "I promise," he whispered as he bent to her and kissed her softly.

"That's all I need to hear."

"You're everything, Peaches," Cullen murmured as he pulled her to him again and buried his face into her hair.

She stood on her tiptoes and held him close. "I love you."

Jamie's head slipping curiously around its edge followed the gentle knock at the door. He cleared his throat loudly.

"Am I interrupting?" He asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"Yes," Cullen replied, feeling Bella's smile against his cheek. "But please, _do_ come in."

Jamie rolled his eyes before walking into the apartment. "Hey Bells," he offered with a small wave.

Bella untangled herself out of Cullen's unrelenting grasp, and walked over to her friend. "Hey J," she smiled before she hugged him. Jamie looked awkward as ass as she did, with Cullen shooting white-hot daggers in his direction, but hugged her back all the same.

In time, Bella stood back from him and waited. "So," she began impatiently. "How did it go?"

"Let the man have a beer first, Bella," Cullen interrupted, as he handed Jamie a bottle who nodded in thanks.

Cullen gestured to the couch and followed the two of them as they sat down. He had to admit, he was fucking nervous about what Jamie had to say. Peter was not someone who took being thrown to the waste side lightly. There would be blowback from this, no matter what. He could feel it. Deep inside himself, he knew, whatever the outcome, Peter would seek payback.

He swallowed hard at the thought.

It wasn't that Peter sacred him. Far from it. However, Peter knew people, and, like the shark that he was, he used those people to bypass his enemies directly and seek out any, and all, of their vulnerabilities. His none discriminate attitude in business was well documented and fearfully respected by the people he dealt with. It was what made him so ruthless.

Cullen cast a quick, panicked glance in Bella's direction. _No. He wouldn't. Just let the bastard try_.

Jamie took a long slow, gulp of his beer and loosened the tie around his neck, even more. He chuckled as he looked at Bella's bouncing leg, as she sat at the side of Cullen.

"It went _fine_," Jamie said finally. "Bella, relax, please."

"It did?" She asked quickly, ignoring his request. "He agreed to it. He said that he would do what we asked and-"

"It's complicated and boring," Jamie interrupted with his palm up. "But the gist of it is, Cullen now has free and all access to his shares and is rightful legal majority owner of WCS Communications." He let his gaze drift to Cullen. "Expect a call from your _other_ attorney."

Cullen tipped his bottleneck in Jamie's direction, "Can't wait."

Jamie looked back at Bella. "Honestly, everything went as well as we hoped." Jamie continued to explain the reactions of Peter from the moment he entered the office, to when he saw the blackmail photographs, to the moment Jamie left. Cullen noticed that he did, indeed, appear relaxed, as though everything _was_ as copasetic as he maintained, but he wasn't about to let his guard down just yet.

"What blowback can we expect?" Cullen asked quietly as he peeled the label from his beer bottle.

Jamie breathed deeply and sat forward in his chair. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "Peter has far reaching influence and a lot of favours owed to him."

Bella frowned. "But I thought you said that we were covered on all counts."

"We are," Jamie replied. "There's no way he can weasel his way out of this one. The board have been informed and they are putting things into effect." He paused. "There are even whispers of..."

At Jamie's silence, Cullen's interest peaked. "What?"

Jamie rubbed the back of his neck with his palm. "As sharply intelligent as Peter is, there are elements of his business that aren't, shall we say, as squeaky clean as he would have his board and share holders believe. While I was putting all of this together I came across some...stuff."

"_Stuff_," Bella echoed with slight exasperation.

"Stuff," Jamie affirmed. "It's nothing for you two to worry about, believe me. I've passed it on to the...appropriate authorities. I've learned in these situations that it's best to let _them_ deal with things like this."

Cullen smirked at the implication made in Jamie's choice of words.

_IRS? Drugs? Money laundering. Christ, he could be up to anything._

Cullen hoped to all hell that, whatever it was, it carried the heaviest penalty.

"I'm sure," Jamie continued. "We'll hear about it should there be any truth in what I found."

Bella rubbed her face with her hands and sighed. "In any event," she said softly. "I can't thank you enough for this, Jamie. Really. Thank you."

A hue of pink crept over Jamie's cheeks. He shrugged and looked at his shoes. "No problem."

Cullen cleared his throat. "Thanks, man. I owe you."

Jamie smiled. "You bet your ass you do. The bill's in the mail."

Cullen laughed despite himself. "I'm sure even _I_ can afford your extortionate prices now, huh?"

"Just," Jamie retorted before the necks of their beer bottles met with a resounding clink.

=PoF=

Jacob had finally dragged himself from the floor of the safe house and had managed to make it to a horrifically uncomfortable chair in a room that smelled of damp and stale cologne. Not that he noticed much. At some point, a cup of lukewarm coffee had been placed in front of him, along with a packet of cigarettes that he was yet to open.

Only the sound of chair legs scraping across the linoleum floor had him raising his head from where it had been resting on his forearms. Agent Biers looked back at him with sympathy, gratitude and...something else that Jacob couldn't quite identify. He looked tired, worn and conflicted. He rubbed his face aggressively and exhaled noisily down his nose.

"What?" Jacob asked with bunched brows. "What is it?"

Biers avoided looking directly at Jacob and, instead, looked at the wall behind him. He fisted his hands and pressed his knuckles together under his chin. The pressure he was exerting made them crack loudly.

"I feel like...Shit, I feel like I'm between a rock and a hard place, right now," he answered.

Jacob waited for him to elaborate by opening his palms in question.

"You have to understand, Jacob, that the safety of my sister and my nephew is paramount to me."

Jacob nodded. He did know that and he was glad of it. He trusted Biers. It had taken a while, but it was there. Jacob watched as Biers pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper from his pocket that he held between his fingers reverently.

"And I would never do anything that would jeopardise the operation." He shook his head and a glint of determination flashed in his eyes. "I've worked too fucking hard for that to happen."

Jacob frowned in confusion and shook his head to try and clear it of the momentous amount of everything that currently filled it. "I'm lost, Biers," he confessed. "What are you talking about?"

Biers paused and looked straight at Jacob. As their eyes remained locked, the agent slid the piece of paper slowly across the table. Without moving a muscle, Jacob glanced down. The air left his body in a sudden small whoosh when he saw what was written:

_Vanessa Cell #_

His stare flew back to the agent's, his head roaring and his heart slamming behind his ribs. "Are you...? What are you...? Is _this._..?"

He stammered unashamedly, unable to articulate the pure joy and, paradoxically, outright fear that pummelled him from head to toe.

Was this real? Was this _really_ a connection to her? A connection that he had fantasised about in his darkest moments. Was this a way of hearing her exquisite voice one more time? Was this the opportunity he'd dreamed of when he could finally tell her that he loved her as much now as the first time that he had ever laid eyes on her?

Is pinkie finger traced the digits in wonder. _Vanessa_. His beautiful girl.

"She asked me to give it to you," Biers said quietly.

Jacob started. "You spoke to her." He swallowed, "About me."

Biers couldn't contain his eye roll. "You're _all _she asks about, Black. Come on."

Jacob felt a lump lodge firmly in his throat, as a small smile pulled at the edges of his mouth.

"The thing is, Jacob," Biers continued firmly. "If my boss finds out about this, we're both dead."

Jacob's levity was suddenly given a firm shove back down to Earth. "Will this put her in danger?"

"Not if used sensibly," Biers replied quickly. "The phone is dark, untraceable, but it only has a three minute allowance on it for every twenty four hours...and...I've already called her today."

Jacob sat back in his seat allowing Biers' guilty silence to fill the room like heavy smog, "How long?"

"Ninety seconds?" Biers looked instantly remorseful. "I'm sorry, man. I-"

"Hey, don't worry about it," Jacob interjected. "You didn't have to do this at all. Besides, I've lived without her voice for so long now, Biers. Ninety seconds is more than I could ever ask for."

Biers watched as Jacob slipped the piece of paper into his pocket. "Just be careful, Jacob," he urged. "Ninety seconds. Say what you need to say and get off the damned phone."

Jacob nodded and breathed deeply, thinking about what the hell he was going to say to the woman who owned his heart; the mother of his son.

Ninety seconds. _Jesus. _

It might as well have been a lifetime.

=PoF=

"Where are we going?" Isabella asked as Edward handed her, her bike helmet.

"It's a surprise," he answered with a grin. "Just enjoy it." He threw his leg over _Kala_ and smiled when he felt Isabella tuck herself in behind him. She wrapped her arms tightly around his stomach and leaned her head against his back.

"Fast or slow?" He asked as he placed his fingers on the ignition key.

He felt her laugh against him. "Always fast, baby," she purred back.

_Fuckin' A._

The initial roar of the engine and the subsequent rumble sent indescribable pleasure shooting through Edward's legs. After manoeuvring out of the garage and after taking a few glances down the street, he hit the clutch and pulled hard on the throttle, beaming madly when he heard Isabella squeal in delight.

The New York night was crisp. The smell of looming snow and cold permeated the air as the two lovers sped down Broadway, slipping between cars as though it were slalom.

Isabella clung on to her Edward, closing her eyes and feeling the machine growl and leap beneath her. It had been too long since they had ridden together, and, for a brief moment, she allowed herself to remember the very first time. It seemed a million years ago that he had taken her for a hotdog in Central Park and danced with her while humming Sinatra. That was the night that he had told her who he was. That was the night that they first made love. That was the night that he had stolen her heart.

_No_. He hadn't stolen it, she had given it to him willingly.

And she would again. And again. And _again_.

So much had happened to them. So many trials and tribulations had come their way, but they were still standing, still strong and ready to face anything else that tried to tear them apart. No matter what, she was in it for the long haul. She was all in with him, because, as she had come to realise, without him standing next to her, she was nothing.

The bike came to a gradual stop outside a small Chinese restaurant, the name of which glowed red above the door. Isabella felt Edward take her hand from around his stomach and place a small, gentle kiss on her knuckle.

"Come on, Peaches," he murmured. "I'm starved."

The restaurant was quiet, with two more couples and a party of four already seated and eating. Isabella followed Edward, her hand clasped in his, to a table in the corner, away from prying eyes. The host smiled and handed them menus before taking a drink order. Once alone, Edward placed his hand on the top of hers, seemingly needing any type of physical connection with her.

Smiling, Isabella lifted her hand and threaded her fingers through his.

"You okay?" He asked quietly, looking at her in a way that sent sparks of want through her chest.

"I'm great. Thank you for bringing me here."

He shrugged modestly. "I just wanted to have us time, you know." He ran his thumb over her wrist. "I miss you."

"Sweetheart," Isabella whispered.

Edward looked bashfully. "It seems ridiculous when I see you almost every day. I don't know. Fuck, I can't explain it."

And he didn't have to. Isabella knew exactly what he meant. It wasn't each other that they missed, but what they had; their love; their alone, quiet, intimate time where there was nothing in the world but the two of them. Recently, it had seemed that there were too few moments where they were simply together.

"You have me now," she said, "Just you and me."

"My favourite," he replied with a dark, feral glint in his eye that went straight between Isabella's legs. Fleetingly, Isabella felt hollowness in her stomach. Edward's words rang truer than he knew. It seemed like an eternity since they had last made love, last lay in bed and silently enjoyed the feeling of skin against skin.

With their drinks on the table, Isabella dropped the menu and narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

"Is this all a ploy to get laid, Mr Cullen, because, if it is," she gestured with a dismissive hand towards her glass. "You will have to do more than woo me with Chinese food and wine?"

Edward laughed loudly; the sound was like butterscotch and woolly sweaters. "I _know_ you're not that easy, Miss Swan," he countered smugly, "Which is why I brought these with me."

Isabella blinked as Edward placed a small, black box on the table and pushed it gingerly towards her. Her eyes widened at him, but he simply smirked back at her, "For you."

She cleared her throat, and, after a moment of silent wonder, lifted the velvet box and held it in her palm. Holding her breath, and with Edward's eager eyes willing her to, she slowly opened it to reveal a pair of square cut diamond earrings that were probably worth the same as the building they sat in.

Edward was uncharacteristically still with his hands together in prayer and his index fingers pressed against his lips. Isabella could feel him watching her. He waited as she stared in astonishment at the exquisite jewels she was holding.

"I...I wanted to get you something," he stammered, "Something to...I don't know, something to show you how I feel." He paused. "Do...do you like them?"

His voice was quiet yet hopeful and, when she looked back at him, his face expressed excitement, nervousness and love all at once. Her eyes filled suddenly with tears that blurred his stunning face. Try as she might, she couldn't blink them back.

Edward laughed uneasily. "I hope they're happy tears, because I lost the fucking receipt."

Isabella laughed too, her gaze still welded on the diamonds that glittered and sparkled insanely under the restaurant's lights. "They...they are _very_ happy tears, Edward," she breathed. Slowly, she looked at him and bit her lip. "They're gorgeous."

A breath of relief seemed to emanate from Edward at the same time a huge smile creased his face. "_You're _gorgeous."

Isabella wiped at the wetness under her eyes, feeling the blush his words caused creep up her neck and burn her cheeks.

Edward chuckled and looked at her through his lashes. "You're not going to say, I couldn't _possibly_?"

Isabella shook her head slowly. "And be entirely predictable?"

Edward snorted and raised his eyebrows at her in pleasant surprise. "That's my girl."

Isabella offered the box to him. "Put them in for me?"

Edward's long, slim fingers battled hard with the fiddly butterfly clasp on each earring, drawing many a curse word from his mouth. The gentleness with which he placed them in her ears, however, left Isabella breathless.

"What do you think?" She asked when he was finished, pushing her hair back so that he could see them.

He looked at her, opened his mouth as though to say something, but shut it again as though the words he'd picked were nowhere near enough.

He sighed. "I think that I love you," he murmured. "And I think that you're just about the most perfect thing I've ever seen."

Isabella's shoulders dropped ever so slightly, as though his words were so heavy she couldn't bear their weight. Her heart ached under the heaviness of his love and his need for her and beat in absolute synchronicity with his. If she was honest, she'd have happily lost herself under it, allowed it to bury her, smother her. She would cocoon herself up in his adoration and, without shame, will him to lather her with more.

She _needed_ more of him, more of him around her, on her, in her heart. She was suddenly desperate for every inch of him against her.

Her breath caught as her craving for him began to spiral. Edward, sensing something was wrong, placed a gentle hand against her face. She leaned into it before she placed a soft, slow kiss in the centre of his palm. Her body fizzled at the contact.

"Peaches," he murmured huskily. "What is it?"

Looking deep into his eyes, Isabella croaked, "I need you."

She kissed his hand again, harder this time, and inhaled the heady scent of his cologne on the cuff of his black hoodie. It was like a flaming arrow into her stomach, a match to the gasoline that pumped furiously through her veins.

"I need you so much, Edward," she gasped, "I..._God._"

Without having lifted his beer or eaten a morsel, Edward didn't miss a beat. "I'll get the check."

=PoF=

Vanessa sat in a pine rocking chair in the corner of the white and blue nursery, holding a bottle of warm milk to her son's mouth, as he drank sleepily. She let her fingers play lazily with the soft, black hair on his head, as he slipped deeper into slumber, and tiptoe over the delicate skin of his blushed cheek. Bathed and dressed in his fluffy, blue onesie, he was the most precious, fragile thing in the world. She laid a tender kiss on his forehead and smiled when he gripped her finger with two of his tiny ones.

"I'm here, Ben," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

With the greatest of care and with Ben fast asleep in her arms, Vanessa placed him soundlessly into his crib, pulling the blankets over and around him. She leaned against the edge of the crib and watched the hypnotic motion of his breathing. He looked so like Jacob when he slept, with his mouth puckered and his arms above his head, it almost broke Vanessa's heart.

Pulling herself away from Ben at nighttimes was always difficult. The mother in her wanted to watch over him like a sentinel, to protect him from the world and all the people in it, and tonight was no exception. Recently, Vanessa felt as though she was living every day trudging through quick sand. She struggled to keep herself above the continuous checks from her father, her 'inquisitive' mother, and the numerous eyes that she knew they had watching her at all hours of the day.

She was continually waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to come tumbling down around her ears. It had been four hours since she had last heard from her brother, since he had told her that he was working with Jacob, since she had begged to speak with him, to hear his voice just once more.

He had denied her, of course. It was dangerous, he said. It posed too big a risk for all of them and how could she argue with that? Ben and Jacob's safety was all that mattered to her. They were all she cared about. They represented the two halves of her heart and, without them; she was as good as dead.

Slipping quietly from the nursery and into her bedroom down the hall, Vanessa flicked on her side table lamp and collapsed onto the bed. She was exhausted. Her body sagged with physical tiredness, while her mind throbbed with anxiety. She had hoped that it would have all been over by now, that she would no longer be living under her father's roof and that she'd be away from all the danger, he posed. Riley had told her to be patient; he would be locked up soon. Vanessa had tried to fight him, to make things move faster, but Riley had begged her to think about what was at stake.

Of course, she had, but she could still feel herself slowly unravelling.

Her suitcase was already packed and stored secretly under her bed. Many times, she had found herself desperately grasping its handle, determined to leave. She'd even placed bets with herself about how far she'd get before they'd catch her, dragging her back, kicking, and screaming.

Silently, she placed her forearms over her face and let the tears of despair fall. She never cried with anyone around her. She couldn't allow them to see her weaknesses. She had to play the compliant, loyal daughter at all times. In the sanctuary of her bedroom and with the house quiet, however, she allowed the hopelessness to grip her. It wound its way around her chest like snake, constricting her breathing until she was almost gasping. In many ways, she liked it. At least it reminded her that she was alive and that she could feel _something_.

_Patience_, she willed herself. _Patience._

The vibration of the cell phone in her pocket made her sit up with a start. _Riley_.

Fumbling, she eventually pulled it from her jeans, pressed the answer button and slammed it to her ear.

"Riley," she gulped. "Riley, is everything okay?" Her forehead beaded with sweat. "Have you heard anything? How's Jacob? Is he alright?"

Silence met her frantic questions, making her heart stutter and her stomach knot. She placed a hand to her chest, willing herself to calm down.

"Oh, God, Riley, has something happened?" She sat on the edge of the bed and breathed. She pushed the phone closer to her ear. "Dammit, I can't hear you," she said in frustration. "Can you hear me?"

A gust of breath echoed down the line. "Yes," a voice answered quietly. "I can...hear you."

The room around Vanessa seemed to tilt suddenly. So much so that she found herself gripping the bed covers with her free hand, petrified that she would topple over. Her heart, which she was convinced had momentarily stopped, beat so heavily and so unexpectedly, her t-shirt shuddered above her chest.

_It couldn't be. Could it?_

Vanessa, wide eyed and dry mouthed, slid down the side of the bed, and landed on the floor. "J...Jacob?"

There was an intake of breath, "Nessie."

The sound that left Vanessa was strangled and desperate and stopped only when her hand clamped over her mouth in an effort to, not only keep quiet, but to keep herself together. With her eyes squeezed shut and praying to every God she knew that she wasn't dreaming, Vanessa pulled her knees up to chest and tried to gather herself.

"Nessie, "Jacob whispered. "Are you there?"

Vanessa nodded, but quickly realised that, of course, he couldn't see her. She wiped her nose noisily and licked her lips. "I'm here."

"Good."

My God, she could hear the smile in his voice. Vanessa gripped her hair. "Is it really you?" She asked.

"It's really me," he answered quickly. "Biers gave me the number."

"I asked him to, but he said it was too dangerous."

"I know."

The silence that followed was heavy; burdened with the colossal amount of things that they both wanted to say to one another. Vanessa stared at the wall, willing the memory of his face to come to her.

"We don't have a lot of time, Vanessa," Jacob said softly. His voice was just as she remembered: rich, gentle and warm.

"We have a son, Jacob," she blurted. "We have a son."

She heard him clear his throat. "I know, Biers told me."

"I'm so sorry, Jake," she managed through her tears. "If only I'd fought harder. I should have fought harder for you, for us. Oh God, I'm _so_ very sorry."

"Hey," he soothed. "Don't. Not now, Ness, okay. We'll have time for all that. I just..." He paused and cursed quietly.

"What Jacob?"

"I just need to know that you're alright," he murmured, "Both of you. Tell me you're alright."

Vanessa closed her eyes and dropped her forehead to her knee. "I'm alright. We're alright."

"That's all I care about," he breathed. Relief echoed through Vanessa's phone. "Is...Is he beautiful?"

"He's perfect," she answered, swallowing hard. "He's got black hair like you, and eyes as dark. He's walking. He started a few weeks ago. He's into everything. I have to have eyes everywhere."

Jacob laughed a soft, tear etched sound that made the hairs on Vanessa's arms stand on end. She took a deep breath. "I called him Ben. Ben Jacob."

Jacob's voice finally cracked. "After my...after..." He couldn't get his words out. A sound of staggered breathing filled the phone line.

Vanessa helped him, "After your grandfather."

"Jesus, Ness," he said, his voice thick from crying. "I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. I've missed out on so much."

"I miss you too, Jacob," she replied.

Her words were unexpectedly punctuated by a loud beeping alarm on Jacob's end of the call.

"_Shit_," he fumed. "That's ninety seconds. I have to go, Vanessa. I..."

Vanessa's heart sank to the floor she sat on. "It's okay," she lied, her face crumbling, as her shoulders shook with the effort it took to keep it together.

"I promise I'll see you soon," he continued. "I swear to God, Ness, I'll do everything I can to fix this."

Despite herself, Vanessa smiled. _Same old Jacob._ He hadn't changed at all. "I know."

"Meet me," he blurted. "Meet me, tonight. Nine o'clock. Our spot." Jacob paused for the length of a heartbeat. "Please. I need to see you, I…"

Vanessa could barely breathe, but the word was out before she could even thin about it. "Yes."

Jacob exhaled. "I love you."

"Jake, I-" But he was already gone.

After many minutes of staring at her phone screen, Vanessa looked around herself, barely believing that she had just spoken to her Jacob, her other half, her soul mate, the father of her perfect son. It was paradoxically wonderful and devastating. She wanted so much to be with him, to know that he still loved her, and, to hear it made her feel indescribable.

She glanced at the clock: Eight o'clock. In sixty minutes, she would be in his arms again. _Slow_, her mind whispered, but she pushed the warning down. She couldn't go slowly with Jacob. _Ever_. Everything about their relationship had been fast and passionate, from their first meeting to the first time they had made love, they had both fallen fast and hard.

And now she would see him again.

Guilt and fear crept like ice spiders up her back, and a suffocating feeling of foreboding began to push her further to the floor. It was such a risk to see him. It was such a risk to all of them. What if they were seen? What would Riley say if he knew?

_Ben._

The foreboding slowly began to morph into hopelessness and, with it, came the tears.

Grabbing a pillow from the bed, she smothered her confused sobs as best as she could, slid further to the floor, and curled into herself. She cradled the phone against her heart, wishing that Jacob could hear it beating, wishing she could tell him that it beat just for him, and closed her eyes.

=PoF=

Cullen followed Bella up the stairs of his apartment building, watching the gentle sway of her hips as he did. She progressed slowly, glancing back at him every third step. They hadn't said anything to one another since they had left the restaurant. He had simply thrown a twenty down on the table, between their untouched drinks, and grabbed Bella's hand. The look in her eyes alone was enough to have him flying back through the city at breakneck speeds.

She'd looked so damned delicate, holding his palm to her face, speaking words that made his body react in only the way it knew where Bella was concerned. The earrings had looked fucking spectacular on her, and the truth was he _hadn't_ bought them to get lucky. That shit was just an unexpected bonus. However, when he noticed her expression, while he unlocked the door, Cullen knew that this was about more than just sex. Of course, their times together were _always_ more than sex, but this felt different somehow; almost like the very first time.

Once inside, he watched her shrug off her jacket and did the same, throwing it carelessly onto the back of the sofa. He kicked off his boots and ran his fingers through his hair. Ridiculously, he suddenly felt very nervous. He laughed lightly as Bella took two steps towards him.

"What?" she asked quietly. Her eyes raked their way down his body, from his head to his toes, and back again, sending shivers of lust through every inch of him.

"Nothing," he replied, dropping his hands to his sides, helpless.

He was helpless against her, his love for her.

Fully clothed, he still felt entirely naked. It used to make him feel vulnerable and weak . Not anymore. Now he welcomed the feeling. It reminded him about what they were together: trust, passion and unconditional love.

Her hands reached for the hem of his _Sonic Youth_ t-shirt and crept slowly underneath it. Cullen smiled down at her when she realised he had a vest on underneath. She cocked an amused eyebrow.

"It's fucking cold, Bella," he explained matter-of-factly. "And besides, layering is in."

Bella smirked sexily and pushed her hands under the vest. Cullen's eyes rolled back into his head when her skin met his and he sucked in a long, slow breath. Her fingertips gently traced the planes of his stomach, dancing up to his chest and along his collarbone.

"Your hands feel so good on me," he murmured. He licked his lips and reached for her. Their mouths met tenderly, small nips of lips, flicks of tongues, making Cullen's hands fist in the waistband of her jeans.

She was teasing him.

And he loved it. He tried to open her mouth wider with his tongue, but she smiled and backed away each time.

Gradually, Cullen lifted his arms. With one sharp tug at the neck of his t-shirt, he pulled it over his head, and discarded it onto the floor. Bella's eyes glittered with want and her mouth soon found the small, sensitive patch of skin underneath his earlobe. She knew it drove him crazy, especially when she…_Holy Fuck_…did that thing with her teeth down his neck. His hands found her hair and his fingers soon tangled with the luscious caramel and chocolate strands. Soft and smelling of peaches, Cullen couldn't help but bury his nose into it, loosing himself to the scent that worked like a freaking aphrodisiac.

He breathed deeply as her lips continued to scatter warm, wet, hard, soft kisses down his chest, down his stomach and back again. He grunted when her teeth scraped his right nipple.

"You're not playing fair," he muttered. His eyes felt hazy with his desire for her.

"I don't want to play," she answered at the same time she pulled her own top over her head. "I just want to feel every inch of you."

Cullen paused for a moment, drinking her in. The shadows of tiredness were still very much there under her large, dark eyes, but there was something else there too, something that unnerved him.

"What is it?" he asked, taking her hand in his. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head slowly. "I just want to feel you." She moved closer and kissed the ink on his bicep. "I just need you and me."

Cullen bent down and captured her mouth with his. She moaned softly against him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. He whispered against her lips, "You have me, Peaches. Take what you need. I'm yours."

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his chin. Cullen's hands drifted up the skin of her back, capturing her bra fastening. He unhooked it carefully, unhurriedly and pulled the straps down her arms. She stood back from him slightly, allowing him to pull it from her body. He swallowed when he looked down at her. She was perfection. Her skin was practically translucent, unblemished and as delicate as paper.

"Touch me," Bella breathed, taking his hands and placing them on her chest. "Please."

Her nipples tightened immediately in his palms and his cock punched at the button fly of his jeans. Instinctively, he squeezed her and watched enraptured as her head dropped backwards in pleasure. Unable to be as measured as he would have liked, he captured a nipple in his mouth and sucked. Her reaction was instantaneous. She grabbed his hair hard and moaned his name.

Crouching just enough, Cullen hooked his right forearm under her ass and lifted her to him. She gasped as her feet left the floor, but held onto him as he walked towards the bedroom. His mouth never left her body, allowing him to flick his tongue across her nipple in a way that he knew sent her crazy.

He knew all of her body's reactions now. He knew when she wanted him soft or hard, slow or fast. He knew when she was close and how to tease her until she begged him and tightened her legs around his waist…or neck, so that he had no choice but to make her come. That Bella was his favourite: resolute and aggressive.

He dropped her carefully to the bed and released her breast with a gentle pop. He lay between her legs and pushed his hips against her. Her back arched and her nails sank deliciously into his shoulders. Without a word, he reached between their bodies and began to unfasten her jeans. Kissing her soundly, he kneeled up on the edge of the bed, and pulled them down along with her panties. Ordinarily, he would have left her underwear on, and teased and played until she couldn't stand it. But, tonight, he knew that wasn't what she wanted.

He didn't want it either.

Her jeans fell from his hand to the floor, but before he could move back to her, Bella had sat up to return the favour. She unbuckled his belt with deft hands and pushed them down. She smiled when his boxer briefs caught on his dick, and giggled wickedly as she unhooked them and shoved them down his legs. He hadn't even stepped out of them when her tongue began circling its tip.

He groaned and closed his eyes. "Fuck."

Her tongue flicked and slid over him with precision, slipping into the creases and slits that made his stomach clench. Her held her shoulders and moaned loudly when her mouth engulfed him and her small fist gripped him firmly.

He hissed when he touched the back of her throat. "Yeah, baby, like that."

She hummed around him, dropping her hand down his length, followed by her mouth, again and again, tempting his building orgasm up his thighs. His hips moved involuntary, needing deeper, wetter, and his breathing began to turn heavy and loud. He growled when she cupped him.

"You…_fuck_…have to stop, Peaches," he groaned, as the heat in his belly began to bubble.

She didn't. In fact, she sucked harder.

"_Bella_," he begged. "I want to make love to you. _Shit_." Her teeth grazed him. "Oh Christ, let me love you."

His words seemed to spark something in her. She looked up at him, slowing.

"It feels _so_ fucking good," Cullen assured her. "But I need to be inside you there."

He brushed his hand up the inside of her bare thigh and sighed when his knuckle touched her heat. She jumped, clearly eager.

With one last kiss, Bella lifted her mouth from him and sat back. Cullen heaved a deep breath and smirked when he looked down at himself. He was so fucking hard. His whole body throbbed. Bella grinned when his cock gave an appreciative twitch.

He crossed his arms over his chest, "Pleased with yourself?"

She nodded and bit her lip coyly. Her hair fell like a waterfall down her back and her earrings reflected exquisitely off the flawless skin of her face.

"Goddamn you're beautiful," he said quietly. "Lie back."

Without hesitating, she did as he asked, lying back on the bed with her arms above her head. He drank her in from her fingertips to her perfect toes, losing himself in the curves and dips of her exquisite body.

"Put your feet on the bed," Cullen instructed and watched enthralled as she did so. He slid his palm up the back of her calf. "Open your legs for me."

He squeezed gently when she complied a little too quickly. "Slower."

With her eyes locked on his, Bella let her legs drop open as gradually as she could. Cullen couldn't help the reflexive snarl of unequivocal need and possessiveness that crawled its way out of his body when he looked down at her, spread and so fucking exposed.

"Stunning," he husked. He knelt down between her feet. "Look at you."

With one lone finger, he traced the crease where her thigh met her ass, biting the inside of his mouth when her body shuddered. Moving at a leisurely pace, two fingers then slid up the outside of her bare pussy, desperate to enter. Cullen managed to resist. Her want for him, however, glistened and winked at him in the soft light of the bedroom so much so that he was powerless to fight the urge to taste it.

Leaning down to her, his tongue slipped across where his fingers had been. Sharp and inherently Bella; she tasted sublime. He lapped at her three times before he dipped his impatient tongue between her folds and pressed it hard against her clit.

"Holy shit, Edward," she gasped, pushing her hips to his face, just the way he loved. "_Yes_."

"Mmm," he hummed against her, knowing that the vibration would ignite her.

And ignite her it did.

She cried out loudly, bowing off the bed as he did it repeatedly. Cullen's fingers quickly found their way back to the party, teasing her pussy's entrance unashamedly, plunging and pulling back, circling and pressing. He felt her heels in the back of his shoulders and knew that she was close.

She'd soon be coming, soon be calling out for him.

_Not yet._

Fighting against the pressure of her feet, he managed to pull back. They were both breathless and aching. She was fucking glorious, spread before him, hair an utter shambles, red cheeked and damp skinned.

"_Peaches_," he breathed.

Before she could open her mouth to protest, Cullen dropped down onto her and kissed her as hard as he could. She groaned when she tasted herself on his lips and sucked on his tongue for more. That shit drove him insane. Her hands were on his face, holding him to her as she licked and kissed him with a desperation she rarely showed.

With his left hand, Cullen grabbed the back of her thigh and pushed it upwards, opening her up more. Automatically, her right leg followed. Her knees met his underarms as he grasped his cock in his hand and guided it to where he urgently needed to be.

"Let me love you," he whispered before he moved up and over her, pushing into her in one long, delicious thrust.

"_Oh God_," she gasped, grabbing his ass. She held him there, _right there_, with her eyes squeezed shut.

While keeping the rest of his body as still as he could, Cullen dropped his mouth to hers.

"I'm here," he groaned as she clenched him deep inside. "Feel me. _Fuck_." He kissed her. "Let me move, baby. Let me move in you."

She whimpered. "Edward."

Her grip on him loosened infinitesimally, allowing him to pull back. The friction as he did was beyond description. Without words, Cullen simply opened his mouth against Bella's and breathed her in, hot and wanting.

He pushed back and grunted. She enveloped him.

All of him. And he was lost.

Moving his arms underneath her, he gripped Bella's shoulders and anchored her body to his, covering and touching every inch of her. Cullen knew that was what she needed because, at that moment, as he continued to push into the beautiful creature beneath him, he realised he needed the exact same thing.

But he still wasn't close enough. Jesus, he was _never_ close enough.

His hips gained a pace, thrusting firmly against her, drawing sounds from her lips that had him gripping her shoulders harder. Their damp foreheads met as their ragged breaths came faster, heating up the minute space between their faces.

"I'm close," Cullen confessed in a tight voice, as the coiled spring in his stomach grew even tauter. The tip of his tongue met hers. Bella groaned and gripped his waist with her knees.

He knew exactly what that meant: he wasn't to change a damn thing.

She wanted him to keep going. Harder? Faster maybe?

Cullen began to thrust deep and hard. Their skin slapped beautifully, while the bed creaked and groaned under the weight and pressure of their love.

"Fuck, yes!" Bella exclaimed.

He pushed harder, driving deep, moving her body across the sheets, pulling them up from the corners of the mattress. She arched beneath him, offering her neck and tits like a virgin sacrifice. Cullen's mouth sucked her berry nipple. Hard.

She gripped his hair and pushed her hips against him. "Edward. Edward. _Edward_." His name fell from her lips, each one sounding more and more frantic than the last.

"Come on," Cullen urged, pushing a frenzied hand between them. He found her white-hot clit and began to rub. "Get there, Bella. Get there with me."

"Close."

"I know. _Fuck_. I can feel it."

"More."

He rubbed and fucked harder. He groaned breathlessly with each push of his hips. "You're getting tighter, Peaches."

"Nearly." Her pussy pulsed. Cullen's cock responded in kind.

He gritted his teeth, as his orgasm teetered precariously on the edge. "Shit, I'm…"

"There!" Bella cried. "Oh, baby. I'm coming."

But Cullen was already falling.

He slammed into her, once, twice, three times, bellowing to the ceiling as he exploded ferociously into her. The euphoria crackled up his spine, locking his thighs against her and his fist in her hair. He was aware of Bella crying out wordlessly. He felt her bucking and writhing under his weight, while the sensation of her orgasm ran like waves of soft silk along the length of his cock.

Her heels, never relented.

Spent, weak, and soaked with sweat, Cullen collapsed onto her, burying his face into her neck. He could feel her heart hammering against his chest and placed his lips on the pulse that fired unremittingly in her throat.

Bella's feet gradually shifted from his back and dropped gracelessly to the bed. She stroked his hair and kissed his forehead tenderly.

"You're incredible," he mumbled into her skin.

He felt her laugh and smiled.

"You're everything," she replied in an almost whisper.

Cullen's eyes opened slowly at her words. Wearily, he lifted his head and looked down at her. He let the back of his fingers skim her cheek.

"I love you," he said fervently, "More than anything."

She looked back at him. He was relieved to see that the unidentifiable look in her eyes that had made him so nervous had all but disappeared. She looked calm and peaceful.

_Jesus_. She was fucking breathtaking.

Above her, still inside of her, Cullen realised he could never imagine being without her. He couldn't imagine a single day where he couldn't touch her or make love to her, talk to her, laugh and play with her. His whole world lay beneath him and nothing and no-one was going to take it away.

"Hey," Bella whispered, cupping his face. "Where did you go?"

He bent down and kissed her, sighing into the feel of her lips on his.

_My Peaches._

"Nowhere," he answered. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere for as long as you'll have me."

Bella smiled, "Forever?"

"Forever," he echoed.

But, in that moment, forever, didn't seem close to long enough.

=PoF=

The call had come, as he was sitting down to dinner with his wife and six other friends. Marcus was calm and quiet on the phone, but his words sent rivulets of molten lava down Aro Bartollini's back.

"He called. They're meeting."

Aro put his fork down and dabbed at his lips with a thick white napkin. He knew exactly who 'he' was and, in truth, had been waiting for him to contact his daughter for a long time. It was inevitable.

He took a deep, calming breath, "When?"

"Tonight. Nine o'clock."

Aro sighed, picked up his steak knife, and clenched it in his right hand, imagining the damage he could do with it. "We have a location?"

"There's a GPS in the car that we can track."

"Then do it."

"Sir."

"And Marcus," Aro said quietly, turning slightly so that his dining companions couldn't hear.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Make it count."

There was a beat of silence. "Sir," Marcus cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I…Am I to take that as-"

"Take it whatever way you want, Marcus," Aro spat, furious with his staff's obtuseness. "Just make sure that the little son-of-a-bitch isn't breathing by nine oh one."

=PoF=

"Just suck!"

"I can't!"

"Of course you can! Suck!"

Bella coughed on the noodles that Cullen was dropping into her mouth, as she began to giggle. Cullen laughed with her, and watched as the noodles slid down her chin and fell to her bare breasts. Quick as a flash, Cullen dove onto her and began to lick and slurp the noodles into his own mouth. He may have licked at her nipples too, but, fuck, eating Chinese food naked had its perquisites.

He moved up her chest, to her chin, and then to her mouth, where he kissed her soundly, covered in sweet and sour sauce. She smiled and laughed under him, while simultaneously trying to push him away. Her attempt was fucking feeble and he told her as much.

"You're an ass," she giggled.

"Yeah," he admitted with a smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows.

He crawled from her and sat back against his bed's pillows next to her. He grabbed his box of noodles and his chopsticks from the side table and returned to stuffing his face. Girl had helped him work up an appetite in the last hour or so and he needed to refuel. Bella, at his side, still naked and smelling of him, nibbled on her garlic shrimp, while watching CSI on his mounted flat screen.

Cullen couldn't help but let the domestic simplicity of their situation soak in. The calmness of their relationship and the silence that they could both enjoy, without it feeling awkward or forced covered Cullen like a warm blanket. He had never felt as comfortable with anyone in his entire life, happier, content or loved. All the shit that had come and gone seemed insignificant and, as God was his witness, he'd go through it all again if it meant being with his Bella.

He swallowed his mouthful of food and licked his lips. "So, you're staying over tonight, right?"

He usually didn't ask - letting Bella decide when she stayed with him – but, weirdly, tonight he needed to hear her say that she wasn't leaving.

He _never_ wanted her to leave.

That particular thought made him sit up a little straighter. Never? What did it mean that he wanted her to stay…what, forever?

Like, move in? Fuck.

He'd never actually thought about it, but, now that he had, he kinda liked the idea. It definitely had its appeal. He glanced at her naked legs that stretched down his bed. No, it was more than that. He'd want her to move in because he loved her., because she was his everything, his other half.

His brain kicked into overdrive. Shit, they'd only been together a short time. Yet they'd been through so much. Maybe it was a prick move, to lie that on her. He didn't want her to feel pressured, and maybe she wouldn't even want to live with his punkass. He wasn't good at cleaning and he was a grumpy motherfucker in the morning, not that she didn't already know that-

"…and whatever, if that's okay with you?"

He slowly blinked back into the room to see Bella staring at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked, dazed.

Bella laughed shortly and cupped his cheek. "Are you okay? Where were you?"

"Nowhere," he answered quickly. He put his food down and fisted his hands in his lap.

"I know there's been a lot going on," Bella stated gently. "But you've seemed miles away today. You wanna talk about it?"

Did he want to talk about it? He looked at her beautiful face and exhaled.

"I was just thinking," he started nonchalantly, even though his heart was pounding ten to the dozen.

"A dangerous pastime," Bella joked nervously, as she fidgeted at his side.

He noticed, slightly irritated that she'd pulled the sheets up to cover herself. Cullen clenched his jaw and little by little pulled it back down. He bent to her bare chest and kissed her lovingly between her breasts.

"It's nothing bad," he promised her, before coughing a laugh of uncertainty into her skin. "Well, I sure as shit hope not."

Bella's hands clasped his and squeezed. "Whatever it is," she soothed, as he looked up at her. "You can tell me."

He moved back to his side of the bed and rubbed his hands through his hair. Well, shit, this was a first.

After a moments deep breathing, he turned back to her and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Bella," he said quickly.

"Edward," Bella replied, clearly trying to calm him as well as her.

HE smirked. "So, I was thinking that, maybe, you know, if you want, because I do," he waffled. "I wondered if you'd-"

His cell phone, vibrating angrily on the side table with a call, cut his sentence short. He cursed and shot daggers at the fucking thing.

Jacob.

_Shit._

"Hold that thought, baby," he fumed before he picked up his phone. "Dude, what's up?"

"Cullen, I need a favour."

Cullen's eyes darted to Bella. "Little busy now, man. Can it wait?"

"No, it can't," Jacob snapped. "You owe me and I'm calling it in tonight."

His tone was definite and warned that he was in no mood for bullshit. Cullen's hackles were immediately up. Something smelled off.

"What is it, Jake?" He asked seriously. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain when you get here," Jacob answered. "I need you here in twenty, okay?"

Cullen rubbed his forehead with the tips of his index finger and thumb. This wasn't good. But what choice did he have? He owed the bastard his life.

He sighed. "Sure," he replied. "Where am I going?"

Jacob recited an address and hung up.

"You're going out?" Bella asked with concern as he put the phone down and stood to retrieve his boxer briefs and jeans from the floor.

"Yeah," he replied as he tugged them on and began to fasten his belt. "I shouldn't be long, though, sweetheart. Jacob just needs me for something."

Fear flashed over Bella's face, making Cullen pause as he pulled on a clean grey v-neck t-shirt.

"Hey," he whispered, hurrying over to her. "It's okay. I'll be right back."

"What're you…_why_…you know what, it doesn't matter." Bella tried to smile, but it fell flat. "You'll be careful, though, right?"

Cullen nodded and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, "Always." He kissed her softly, letting his tongue slide across her bottom lip. "I'll text you when I'm there, okay?"

"Okay."

He kissed her again, letting his mouth linger on hers. "I love you."

"I love you too, Edward," she answered quietly, "With my whole heart."

=PoF=

Cullen left _Kala_ standing by a garage door in the alleyway that Jacob had told him to go to. He pulled his smokes from his pocket and lit one. He was thinking about quitting, but now just wasn't the fucking time. He looked around himself instinctively, watching for anyone who looked suspect and, once he was happy that there was no one near, began walking to the meet spot.

With every step, he could feel his palms get sweatier and hear his conscience speak louder: bad idea. _Bad idea. _His fight or flight reflex was in high fucking gear and for one stupid moment, he chastised himself for not carrying a weapon.

_Parole, dickwad._

He turned the corner of the alley onto the open street to find Jacob leaning against the wall. He too was smoking, but he flicked it away unceremoniously when he noticed Cullen. He held out his fist for Cullen to bump, which he did.

"Thanks for coming, man," he said sincerely.

"Don't thank me yet," Cullen replied sharply. "What the hell are we doing here?"

Jacob breathed towards his feet and muttered the one word, the one reason Cullen had subconsciously known since he'd gotten the call: Vanessa. Jacob told him about his conversation with Biers, the fact that his son was alive, his phone call with Vanessa and his subsequent begging that she meet with him. By the time he finished, Cullen was ready to spit nails.

"The hell are you thinking?" He hissed. "Fuck, Jake, you're putting this whole fucking plan in jeopardy. Have you thought about that?"

Jacob scoffed. "Don't get all fucking self righteous on me, Cullen. You have no idea."

"Oh, don't I?" He argued. "I have no idea that it's not just your life that you're playing with but mine, Bella's…"

"Don't you think I know that?" Jacob barked. "I've thought of nothing else, but do you know what occurred to me, _Buddy_?"

Cullen narrowed his eyes at Jacob's sarcastic tone. "What?"

"It occurred to me that, if the shoe was on the other foot and you wanted to see Bella, because she was the love of your life, you'd put every motherfucker, including _me_, in the firing line to do it."

Cullen's mouth slapped shut, as Jacob stepped off and slumped back against the wall.

What the hell could Cullen say to that, you're a liar? Of course, he couldn't, because what Jacob said was absolute truth. If he _was_ separated from Bella and he had one chance to see her, nothing else would matter. _Nothing._

He grunted in frustration and leaned against the wall next to Jacob. "Fine," he conceded angrily. "You're right, _okay_."

Jacob didn't respond. He knew he was right.

"But, dude, seriously," Cullen continued. "Does Biers even know what's going on?"

Jacob shook his head. "I couldn't have him deny me this, man," he murmured resolutely, "No way."

Cullen opened his mouth to argue, but realised quickly that there was little point. Jacob was as stubborn as he was. There was no reasoning, no coercing. He had made his decision and damn the consequences. Rubbing his forehead under his black beanie, Cullen began to understand the fucked up situation they found themselves in, or rather, the situation Jacob had dragged him into.

"So what am I here for?" He asked quietly.

Jacob toed the sidewalk with his boot. "You're the only fucker I trust to watch my back."

Cullen snorted sardonically, "Lucky me." He noticed Jacob's small smile. "This is a mess," he added, but Jacob standing upright from the wall interrupted his train of thought.

"What?" Cullen questioned, already on alert, watching the rest of the quiet street.

"She's there," Jacob whispered.

Sure enough, as Cullen looked around him, a small figure appeared cautiously from around the corner. Dressed in black clothes, she had her arms wrapped around herself and walked towards them with clear apprehension.

"Jesus," Jacob gasped as he placed a hand to his chest. "What the fuck do I say to her?"

But, Cullen wasn't listening. He was too busy watching the black sedan that had begun to crawl up the opposite end of the street.

"Jake," he murmured, feeling his heart kick up a warning in his chest. "Jake, something's up."

"It's okay," Jacob replied, unable to take his eyes of the woman not thirty feet away from him

"Jake," Cullen repeated firmly, as the car suddenly picked up speed, tyres screeching across the asphalt. "Shit, Jacob, MOVE!"

As if in slow motion, Cullen grabbed his best friend's arm and pulled him backwards, trying like hell to get him back into the alleyway. Jacob, suddenly aware of what was going on, stumbled after him. He cried out Vanessa's name at the same time that she screamed and two gunshots exploded from the passenger window of the sedan.

There may have been a third.

Cullen couldn't be sure, as he stumbled and fell heavily on top of Jacob, who groaned and cursed underneath him. Cullen tried to lift himself, but found that he couldn't.

He tried again.

Odd. His arms just…wouldn't work.

And his chest…_Jesus_, he couldn't breathe. He coughed. He coughed again into his hand. His palm was suddenly wet. He couldn't…breathe.

And, dammit, he couldn't see. Everything was black. He tried to speak. _Bella._ But nothing came out.

He heard voices.

_Bella._ He heard his name, but he couldn't answer. Maybe they weren't calling for him. Maybe he was dreaming.

_Peaches. _He could smell peaches and feel blue satin.

And he was eleven years old again and back in the doorway with his girl, holding her, keeping her safe and warm.

But he was so scared and so cold.

_Peaches._

"I love you," she whispered in his ear.

But Cullen couldn't answer. He couldn't do anything. _I love you_, he willed himself to reply. _I love you with everything that I am._

She smiled at him. So beautiful.

Time stood still for a precious moment, with Bella's lips upon his, before the cold overwhelmed him completely.

**Holy I'll be behind the sofa hiding from all of the pissed readers, Batman.**

**I have been truly terrified about posting this chapter. Please, please, please, please don't kill me.**

**This was always the game plan and there is another chapter to come.**

**Remember, I love all of you and would never do you wrong or break my promises. (HEA, HEA)**

**If you're really upset, read the lemon again. I find that helps.**

**And, I've already started the next chapter. WHOOP!**

**Follow me on Twitter: sophiejax**

**TTFN xxx**


	45. Chapter 45

**Hola!**

**Yes, it's an update and within five weeks! I'm getting good at this, huh? Plus, I'm on vacation in the States so I am officially spoiling you by posting this.**

**Thank you so much for all your reviews, tweets and love for this story. Even after two years, your support still blows me away. You're all fabulous and you make the less appreciative reviews/comments a lot easier to handle.**

**Last chapter was left at a fairly awful cliffie, I know, and, despite comments to the contrary, that was the game plan from the start.**

**Thank you for sticking with me, PAW and Peaches.**

**See you on the other side…**

**Chapter Songs: **_If Tomorrow Never Comes, Ronan Keating. The Background, Third Eye Blind. __Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol. __Fix You, Coldplay. Wires, Athlete. The Reason, Hoobastank. Until The Day I Die (Acoustic), Story of The Year. Have Faith In Me (Acoustic), A Day To Remember. Iris, Goo Goo Dolls. Breathe Me, Sia. Run, Leona Lewis. Kiss Me Slowly, Parachute. Marry me, Train. When You Find_ _Me, Joshua Radin feat. Maria Taylor. Love Song, Adele._

**Chapter 44: The Light Inside**

_The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,_

_Is dearly bought; 'tis mine and I will have it ~ **Shylock. The Merchant of Venice Act 4 Sc 1**_

Isabella sprinted hard across the car lot. The pounding of her feet against the asphalt, ricocheted through her entire body, making her very bones shake and shudder. Sweat prickled her brow, while the adrenaline and fear that coursed through her veins like nitro ensured that she had been at full speed for thirteen blocks.

She dodged slow moving cars and even slower people, cursing and frantic in her effort to get to the automatic doors of the hospital, which opened slowly, catching Isabella's shoulder as she barraged her way through. There were people everywhere in the ER, bleeding and holding limbs that looked worryingly out of shape, but she couldn't have cared less.

There was only one person that she cared about. There was only one person that she needed to get to.

She shoved her way towards the nurse's station, breathless and bedraggled.

"Edward," she panted loudly to any one of the four people standing behind it. The nurse, who was sitting at the computer, looked up in alarm. "Edward," Isabella repeated. "I'm here...I got a call."

The nurse's face was soft and caring as she stood and walked towards her. "Okay, honey, calm down. Do you have a full name for me?"

Isabella nodded and swallowed. The back of her throat burned. "Edward Cullen. That's his name. Edward."

The nurse's face changed infinitesimally, and Isabella's stomach was immediately rolling. She knew that expression. She'd seen it sixteen years ago on Billy Ephraim's beaten face. It was a look of sympathy, pity and ache. The look sent a spear of frozen fear through Isabella's body, buckling her knees and suffocating her chest.

"Oh God," she whispered with both hands clasped over her mouth. A buzzing sound began in her ears, deep and loud.

"Sweetheart," the nurse said softly, reaching out for her.

But Isabella was unreachable. She was quickly falling into blackness, covered only by the animalistic cry that ripped from her throat as she fell.

=PoF=

"_Edward, what are you doing?" She asks me as I try to stir the cake mix for the hundredth time. It's harder than she makes it look and I'm trying my hardest not to look like a fucking idiot, but...it's not working._

"_I'm trying to mix this shit, but I can't," I grumble back at her, flicking cake mix out of the bowl in demonstration of my ineptitude. I need a cigarette. "Is the secret ingredient cement, for crying out loud?"_

_She laughs. She tries to hide it, but I can see her in my periphery. Her shoulders are shaking and her hand covers her mouth. I look at her and narrow my eyes. I exhale noisily so she knows that it's no laughing matter._

"_I can rebuild V12 engines blindfolded and with my hands tied behind my back," I bitch with an aggravated hand through my hair. "This shouldn't be _that_ fucking difficult!"_

"_Baby, calm down," she placates with a soft hand on my forearm. "Just take your time, be gentle."_

_Her tone and the way her fingers move over my skin makes my breath catch in my throat._

"_Gentle?" I ask incredulously. "It's a fucking cake, Bella."_

_She smiles and it lights me from the inside out._

"_Well, imagine that the cake is me," she murmurs against my right ear lobe. My stirring hand freezes and my grip on the spoon tightens as her breath sweeps across my skin._

_Jesus._

"_Treat it nicely, sensitively," she continues, placing a tender kiss at the nape of my neck._

_I close my eyes and let the delicious burn of it seep into my skin, into my bones and into my soul._

_This woman has my soul. She has everything._

_She always has._

=PoF=

Isabella awoke slowly, wrapped in a warm blanket, her head resting on a thin pillow. She blinked once, twice before she shot upright, dazed, and utterly discombobulated.

"It's alright," came a soft voice from behind her.

Isabella jumped and squeaked in surprise. She turned to see Garrett smiling down at her. Despite the warmth of his smile, his face was drawn, pale and the lines under his eyes were dark and tired. Seeing him look the way he did, made Isabella gasp for breath. Her heart in her chest stuttered, as though it suddenly remembered, just as she did, why she wasn't in Edward's bed waiting for him to get home.

"What ha-happened?" She stammered.

Garrett sighed and placed his palms on the silver rails of the hospital bed that Isabella was lying in. "You fainted. The nurses brought you here while you-"

"No!" Isabella snapped shaking her head and scrunching her eyes shut in frustration. "What happened to...to Edward?"

Opening her eyes, she looked up at Garrett to see him completely taken aback by her uncharacteristic outburst.

"Please, Garrett," she pleaded in a small, terrified voice. "What happened to him?" She swallowed down the tears and monumental pain that threatened to escape. "Is he...is he...?"

Garrett placed a hand on Isabella's shoulder and squeezed. "He's in surgery, Isabella. He was shot."

=PoF=

"_I win! I win!"_

_I roll my eyes but can't help but smile at my Peaches as she bounces around my living room, all brown hair, and softness. She lifts her Wii remote above her head and wiggles her ass in a way that is both adorable and sexy as hell._

"_Best of three," I state plainly, hiding my adoration._

_I don't know why I do this. The truth is, sometimes I'm scared. I'm scared that, were I to show her how I truly feel about her all the time, I'd suffocate her._

_I mean, I barely breathe myself._

_She walks to me, the sway of her hips crying out for my hands, and wraps her arms around my neck._

_I love feeling her close to me. I feel relaxed. I feel whole._

"_You're a very bad loser, Mr Cullen," she murmurs sassily. Her eyes fall to my mouth and I lick my lips._

"_Yeah," I admit with a consummate shrug, "the worst."_

"_What will I do with you?" She fingers the neck of my t-shirt and I harden instantly. She reeks of desire and her body aches for sex._

_For me._

_I ache. I ache for her constantly. She has no idea._

"_Take me to bed," I answer quickly, breathlessly._

_Her eyes widen slightly, before her mouth pulls into the sexiest smile I've ever seen._

"_Yes, Sir," she replies, as she takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom._

=PoF=

Isabella clutched at the blanket that twisted around her legs, and tried to take deep breaths.

She had to keep calm. She couldn't fall apart. She had to be strong.

Shot. He'd been _shot_.

_He's not dead_, she repeated silently to herself. _He's not dead. He's in surgery because he was shot, but he's not dead._

She pushed the blanket back and dropped her legs over the edge of the bed. Before her feet could touch the floor, however, a plump nurse with a round face and a wide smile came through the door.

"Ah, you're awake," she said cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"

Isabella paused and rubbed her face with her hands before answering. "I'm alright. I just need to find out-"

"Ah, ah," Nurse Sunshine interrupted with a waggling finger. "I need to take your blood pressure before you do anything." She glanced over at the table at the end of the bed where a sandwich and a cup of juice sat untouched. She looked back at her patient disapprovingly. "You need to eat something too."

"I'm not hungry," Isabella replied, feeling her patience diminish quickly. She could sense Garrett becoming increasingly uncomfortable, as the nurse began to flit around Isabella like a fly.

"Look," she continued with a long sigh. "Can you please tell me how I can find out about my..." _Soul mate. Edward. Heart._ "...My boyfriend? He was brought in-"

"I'm sure the doctor will come and see you," the nurse answered with a dismissive smile. "Roll your sleeve up for me."

"No," Isabella countered curtly, ignoring the nurse's request. "You don't understand. I got a phone call to come here. Apparently he's in surgery, but I haven't spoken to anyone."

"Well, the doctors _are_ busy." Nurse Sunshine appeared to be losing her patience too. "They will see you when they can. Now, roll up your sleeve."

Isabella felt something deep inside snap. "NO!" She shouted, making Nurse Sunshine take a step back.

"Isabella," Garrett said softly.

But she wasn't listening. She jumped down from the bed and looked at the two wide-eyed people before her.

Didn't they _get_ it? Didn't they _understand_?

"All I want is to find out what the fuck has happened to Edward," she seethed. "That's _all_ I want. I need to know that he's going to be all right. I need to see him." She thrust a pointed finger towards Nurse Sunshine. "And I need for you to stop pestering me and get a doctor in here to tell me what the fuck is going on!"

The nurse looked more than a little shocked at the language and anger that emulated from the small girl before her. She cleared her throat and dropped the arm cuff down forcefully. "I'll go and see what I can find out." She turned on her heel without another word and left the room.

Isabella's head immediately dropped into her hands. She hadn't meant to speak the way that she had, but...Oh, God. She was in a nightmare. That had to be it. It couldn't be real.

Shot? How?

Not two hours ago, they were in bed together. They were in bed together, naked, laughing, and loving. And now? Now she was in a strange hospital room, surrounded by the smell of antiseptic and death, hearing that the man who she lived for was in surgery because he had...

A commotion at the doorway interrupted Isabella's train of thought. A tall, handsome looking man, who may as well have had '_cop_' printed on his forehead came into the room, shadowed by two other more aged gentlemen. The first who, on closer inspection, looked ruffled and ready for about a week of sleep, walked towards Isabella, pulling an FBI badge from his inside jacket pocket.

"Miss Swan," he said in a soft voice that belied his tough appearance. "I'm Agent Biers. These are Agents Winters and Swinby."

"Hi," Isabella managed despite the bile that had risen to the edge of her throat. She knew his name. He had been the fed who Edward had been working with.

"We've never met," he said with a lift of the right side of his mouth. "But I know a lot about you." He glanced at Garrett and nodded in greeting.

"How is Edward?" Isabella asked quickly. "Is he...will he be okay?"

Biers exhaled down his nose and put his hands on his hips. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "He's been in surgery for a little under an hour."

Isabella collected her terror and panic from around her ankles. "Where was he...where did the bullet hit?"

Biers swallowed when he looked at her, "In the back."

Isabella nodded automatically, unable to speak.

"The doctor is coming to give you more information, Isabella, but we need to-"

"Why?" She blurted.

"What?"

"Why was he shot?"

Biers' eyebrows pulled together slightly. "I don't-"

"He should have been at home, with me," Isabella muttered. "But he got a phone call from Jacob Black. He left, saying that he would be back and then I get a call from the ER telling me to come quickly because Edward had been brought in."

Biers rubbed the stubble on his chin and averted his gaze from Isabella.

"He said that you were watching us," she continued, "that you would look after us." She lifted her shoulders and let them drop in question. "Where were you?"

=PoF=

_She pulls me to the bedroom and sits me down on the edge of the bed. She smirks in a way that sets my chest on fire and pulls her sweater over her head. She's encased in beautiful black lace that looks incredible against her alabaster skin._

_My fingers twitch._

"_You're beautiful," I whisper._

_She blushes and starts to unfasten her jeans. I lean back on my palms and watch as she slowly becomes naked before me._

_I watch. I want. I need. _

_My God. _

_She starts to walk to me but I stop her with a shake of my head._

"_What?" She asks._

_I know Bella knows that I love her and that I think she's gorgeous, but I can't help but detect the tinge of doubt in her voice. Her hands fist at her thighs as though she wants to cover up, but I would never let her do that. I want her to be this way with me forever._

"_Let me look at you," I say._

_And I do just that._

_I look at her._

_I look at her and I wonder how the hell I got so fucking lucky. I look at her and I wonder if she'll ever know just how much I love her, how long I've loved her, if she knows that I would kill, die, and hurt for her. I look at her and wonder if she knows how breathtaking she is, how people look at her in the street because she's so fucking beautiful. I look at her and wonder if she thinks about forever the way that I do. I look at her and wonder if she would accept my name eternally, have my children, and grow old with me._

_I just..._look_ at her._

"_Are you okay?" She asks. Her small face looks nothing but concerned._

_I look back at her and shake my head._

_The truth. Just once, I'll tell her the truth. Just once, I'll let her see the depth of my need and love for her._

"_Bella," I breathe, feeling myself unravel. "Touch me. Touch me everywhere. Touch me and never fucking stop."_

_Her lips are on mine before I can take another breath._

=PoF=

Isabella sat in silence as Biers relayed the entire night to her. In actuality, he explained _everything_ to her, from the start of his involvement in the case of Edward, Jacob, and Aro to the night's horrific events.

Names she had heard but didn't care for wafted around the tense hospital room she had woken up in. Garrett sat at her side the entire time, watching her carefully.

Biers explained about Jacob, how he'd been given Vanessa's number as a ruse to bring Aro out into the open. He explained how it had worked and, consequently, his team had followed both Jacob and Edward to the meeting spot. It hadn't been as easy as they had envisaged, however. Even though there had been a team of six feds, Aro's men had simply been too quick for them. They managed to get off two rounds - one hitting Edward in the back and the other Jacob's leg - before the feds shot back, killing all but two of the sedan's occupants.

Vanessa was safe, he said. Before the shooting even took place, a team was dispatched to Aro's property

"On what grounds?" Isabella had asked.

The FBI had recorded Aro's hit order. Along with Vanessa's, Edward's, and Jacob's testimony, they had enough to lock him up until doomsday, Biers said with a wicked grin that made Isabella even colder.

"Where _is_ Jacob?"

Biers looked suddenly nervous. "He's recovering in a room down the hall," Biers replied. "We've cordoned off this whole area as well as security on the surgical unit, just to be safe. Jacob had his bullet removed. He was lucky."

"Yeah," Isabella muttered icily.

"No, really," Biers said lightly. "Cullen pulled him out of the way. He took that bullet for Jacob. He'd have been dead otherwise."

"And now Edward is in surgery fighting for _his_ life instead," Isabella snapped, "lucky him."

"Isabella," Garrett started, but stopped when she stood up.

"I need the bathroom," she said abruptly. "Do you know where it is?"

Biers stood slowly, "Down the hall to the right."

Isabella manoeuvred her way around the other bodies in the room.

"Isabella," Biers called after her. "Will you be alright? Do you want one of my team to accompany you?"

"I'm fine," she answered, not turning around, with her hand on the door handle.

"Well, here," Biers continued. "Take my badge. If anyone stops you, or asks who you are, tell them you're with me."

Isabella took the badge and made her way out of the door.

Despite her being out of the rancid air of that God awful room, she felt no better. She'd told the agent that she was all right but, truthfully, she was far from it. She was chaotic. Inside she was breaking, sick, and angry.

_No_. She was apoplectic.

How could Jacob have been so fucking selfish? How could he pull Edward into such a dangerous situation with no regard for his safety? Weren't they supposed to be best friends? Where the hell was the loyalty, the understanding? Edward went to prison for him for God's sake. What more did the bastard want, blood? Well, he sure as hell got it.

She stormed down the corridor with purpose and fury coursing through her, glancing into each room as she passed, trying to recall what Jacob Black looked like after their brief meetings. The room that Jacob was in, however, was easy to spot. It was the one with a huge, scary man standing outside of it.

Isabella blew out a breath, tucked her hair behind her ears, and walked towards him.

"Hi," she said sweetly. "I'm Isabella Swan."

The man, who was clearly a badge, didn't respond other than raising his eyebrow at her.

"Agent Biers sent me down to get you," she added. "He said it was urgent."

"I'm not to leave my post."

Isabella smiled wider. "He said you'd say that." She pulled Biers' badge out from her back pocket. "He also gave me this and told me to tell you that I'm 'with him'. I'll watch over Jacob while you're away."

The officer still didn't look swayed.

"Look, I'm part of this case."

"I know who you are, Miss Swan," he replied brusquely. "But I'm not to leave my post."

Isabella exhaled and jutted out her right hip. "Fine, well, I'll just go back to Biers and tell him that you won't leave your post despite my having his badge and being a part of this case, _and_ the fact that you're only going eight rooms down the hall."

Her words seemed to do the trick. The officer rolled his eyes and glanced down the hall to where he knew Biers was.

"Shit," he grumbled, eying her warily.

Isabella tried not to look too triumphant.

"Wait here," he ordered. "I'll be back."

"Don't rush," she said quickly, as she watched him hurry down the hall. She had opened Jacob's room door before the officer had even made it half way down.

A small side light that cast sinister shadows along the floor and across the walls lighted the room. Jacob was asleep in his bed. She noticed the large bandage that wrapped the thigh of his left leg and gagged. Wires connected his chest to a large beeping machine, which stood next to an IV drip. The room smelled of antiseptic and blood.

Isabella walked slowly towards him. He looked nearly peaceful, sleeping with his mouth puckered and his right cheek leaning into the pillow. However, Isabella could feel nothing but rage. He was responsible for Edward being where he was. Instead of being in her arms, he was going through hell, having God knows what done to him. Friends. Jesus, he didn't know the meaning of the word.

"You selfish bastard," she murmured. She stood at the side of his bed, fists clenched, teeth grinding. "How could you? How could you do it?"

Jacob stirred gently. His eyes opened slowly before he blinked once, twice, taking in his surroundings.

"He's supposed to be your friend," Isabella continued.

She watched as Jacob jumped at the sound of her voice, snapping his head in her direction. His eyes widened when he realised who was speaking.

"Hasn't he done enough for you?" She asked, feeling one lone tear fall down her cheek.

"Isabella," Jacob croaked.

"He went to prison for you. He...he _lied_ for you, defended you." She took a step closer to the bed so that she was almost leaning over him. "He chose you. He chose you over me."

Jacob swallowed and pressed his head back further into the pillow. "I...I wasn't thinking. I...I just wanted to see Vanessa."

Isabella's face curved into a vicious snarl. "You've been apart for nearly three years. Couldn't you wait just a little longer?"

Jacob opened his mouth to answer, but Isabella stopped him. "No, you couldn't, because you're a selfish fuck who thinks only of himself."

Jacob's face turned angry. "Christ, I didn't know that this was going to happen!"

"How, Jacob?" Isabella shouted. "How did you _not_ know? You'd been in police custody for almost twelve hours. Biers told you everything. The whole case, Jacob, Edward's parole." She shook her head in disgust. "You didn't consider any of it."

She pushed a shaking, desperate finger into her own chest. "You didn't consider _me_."

Jacob blinked. "Look, I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare say you're fucking sorry, Jacob. Don't you _dare_!"

"What do you want me to say?" He snapped. He laughed sardonically. "Shit, you have no idea about us, lady, about Cullen and I and what we've been through. You think because he gives you a nickname and bangs you regularly that you have a clue about the connection we have, what bond we have-"

"Bond?" Isabella screeched. "You're talking to me about bonds? I _love_ him! I'm _in_ love with him and he loves me! He's the love of my life, my world; my...He saved my life before _you_ even mattered to him. _Bond_? He's been shot because of _you_! He could...he could die because of you! You have no idea what a bond means or what it feels like because all you care about is yourself! You make me _sick_!"

As Isabella lunged for Jacob, the door of the hospital room exploded open. Biers stood, breathing heavily with Garrett and two other agents. It was seconds before Biers was on Isabella, pulling her hands back, away from Jacob's face, yanking her backwards.

"I hate you," she screamed. "I _hate you_!" Her sobs increased in volume until they were shattering around the room. She fought her hardest against Biers as he tried to soothe her and hold her back. "If he dies...if he dies," she yelled as she kicked out. "I'll kill you. Do you hear me, Jacob Black? I'll _kill_ you!"

She was still screaming and yelling as Biers pulled her into the corridor. "Isabella, calm down," he murmured into her ear. "Please, honey." He squeezed her tightly.

"He'll die," she howled. "Oh, God, if he dies. Edward! I can't...I can't breathe."

"Isabella!" A familiar voice echoed down the hallway, followed by quick footsteps across the sterile floor.

Filled with tears, half closed, and rolling, Isabella's eyes were useless. She couldn't see who was calling her name, but her chest resonated with a warmth that it desperately needed.

The voice came again, closer this time. "Isabella! Let go of my daughter! Isabella, sweetheart!"

Isabella knees finally gave way, but strong familiar arms caught her. A scent of childhood, safety, and unconditional love embraced her and began to stroke her hair.

Isabella's sobs became hiccups of despair.

As her heart broke, she managed to breathe just one word: "_Mommy_."

=PoF=

_I move my hands up her back and kiss her hard. I love her taste. It's sweet and dances on my tongue like a fucking rock star._

_My t-shirt rips over my head and her fingers grip onto my shoulders, pushing into the skin enough to make me arch. I love it when she's like this. I love that she needs me the way she does._

_She winds her hips, pushing down on me, knowing that she's driving me crazy. I push up to meet her movement and she groans loudly._

_Fuck, I love that sound. I live for that sound._

_Her breathes become faster, as do mine. We breathe each other in, foreheads pressing together. My hands are on her tits, feeling, squeezing, and adoring. I can feel the frantic pull between us get stronger and stronger until her hands are on my jeans, yanking at my belt buckle and zipper._

"_Yes," I grunt, assuring her, wanting her to take from me._

_I want her to take everything, anything._

_Her small fist wraps around my cock and she pumps me. Sweet Jesus, her palm is golden. It's soft and firm. I moan. I moan her name. She pumps faster and it feels incredible, but I need closer, wetter._

_I curse and lift my hips._

"_Inside," I gasp, "Peaches, please. Put me inside."_

_She smiles against my mouth, flicking her tongue across my lips and lifts. She lines me up, panting in anticipation._

_I swear to God, I'm holding my breath._

_And then, she drops down._

_Slowly. Engulfing. Incandescent. Perfection._

_And I'm home._

=PoF=

Isabella lay on the hospital bed she had left, curled up against Renee. She stared silently at the window, watching the first flutters of snow begin to fall. She'd wanted so much to sit and watch it with Edward. He'd promised that they'd go to the roof of his apartment and do it. Isabella felt her stomach constrict painfully. He'd missed it.

_He may not even see Christmas._

Renee's hand continued to stroke her hair. They had lain, not speaking, since she and Garrett had picked Isabella up from the floor after she had nearly scratched Jacob's eyes out. And she would have if Biers hadn't pulled her off. It was the least the fucker deserved. She hadn't mentioned Edward, or how she knew, but Isabella guessed that Garrett might have had something to do with it.

Regardless, all the words, disagreements and arguments that Isabella and Renee had had over the past months had been forgotten. They all seemed so pathetically pointless now. Perspective. It was strange how that worked.

A small knock at the door brought Isabella back to the room. A stout, middle-aged man with pock marked skin and blue scrubs entered the room. A younger man who had blonde hair and an arrogant swagger followed him.

Isabella sat up quickly, making the room tilt.

"Miss Swan?" The older doctor inquired.

Isabella's voice was lost. She nodded instead.

"I'm Doctor Blake. I operated on Edward. The agent told me that you wanted to know his status. I believe you're the closest thing to a next of kin that Edward has."

Isabella's heart leapt from her hest to her throat. She couldn't catch her breath. "Yes, I…Is he…?"

"Edward was shot in the back," Doctor Blake said gently.

"I know." Isabella swallowed hard. "Is it…I can't…"

Doctor Blake walked towards her and crossed his arms over his chest. "The bullet lodged in the middle lobe of his left lung, which caused it to fill with blood and eventually collapse. He was very lucky. An inch or two more and it would have hit his heart."

Isabella cupped a weary hand over her mouth. Renee's grip on her, tightened.

"The paramedics who brought him in managed to stabilise his lung long enough for us to get him to surgery and remove the bullet."

Isabella mewed into her palm, unable to form a coherent thought or word. Renee spoke for her. "He's okay?"

Doctor Blake nodded. "He's in recovery." He raised his eyebrows in quiet respect for his patient. "He's strong."

Isabella felt the hot tears fall down her face as she and Renee hugged each other hard.

"Miss Swan, I have to inform you," Doctor Blake continued. "In order to remove the bullet, I had to remove part of the middle lobe of Edward's lung."

Isabella started. She sat up straighter, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "But he's okay. I mean, he _will_ be okay."

"As I said, Edward's strong. He's a fit, healthy young man. There's nothing to say that he won't make a full recovery. The next twenty-four hours, however, will be crucial."

"The surgery," Isabella murmured, panicked. "Will that affect him? Will having the lobe removed, affect him in the long term?"

Doctor Blake rubbed his chin. "With the right after care and a sensible amount of rest and recuperation, Edward should be able to live just as he has before. We'll remove the ET tomorrow and see how-"

"ET?" Renee interrupted.

"An endotracheal tube," the doctor replied patiently. "It's to help Edward breathe. He's currently on a ventilator and we have placed a thoracostomy tube in his chest to clear any more fluid or blood that may still be in there. Once we see that Edward can breathe on his own and his lung stays inflated, we'll remove it."

"How long will that take?" Isabella asked.

The doctor shrugged. "Usually a couple of days, but every patient is different. He's on a large dose of antibiotics and painkillers, which should help."

Isabella moved her legs to the edge of the bed. "Can I see him?"

"He's still in recovery. Once he's out and down on ICU, you can see him, but only for ten minutes. My patient needs his rest."

Isabella gave a small smile. "Yes, Doctor."

"Okay." Doctor Blake turned, but Isabella stopped him with her palm on his forearm.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so very much."

The doctor nodded and placed his hand on hers. "You're welcome."

=PoF=

_I lie next to Bella, stroking the skin of her back as she floats in an out of sleep. I watch her, as I always do, with fascination._

_She looks angelic with the sun that is shining through my bedroom window, bouncing off her naked body. She feels warm under my fingertips, damp with sweat, glowing from her orgasm._

_She came so hard on me, around me. She called my name and rode me until I followed. It is so much more than sex with Bella. Being with her, inside of her, is like nothing else on Earth. It's better than any drug I've ever done. It beats any adrenaline rush._

_Coming inside of her is the sexiest thing she lets me do. I feel honoured. Stupid, I know. _

_I remember once, after we had fucked for nearly an hour, I had seen my come drip down her leg as she moved across the bedroom. Christ, that shit made me so hard, I had to have her all over again._

_I think it's a possessive thing. Maybe._

_And why not? She_ is _mine. Inside and out, she's always been mine. Just like, I've always been hers._

_The thing is; everything about my relationship with Bella is incredible. The way she loves me, tolerates me, listens to me, speaks to me, fucks me, touches me, kisses me, stands up to me, all of it makes her the most precious thing in the world to me. She's smart, sassy, caring, loyal, and doesn't take shit from anyone. Least of all _me_._

_She opens her eyes and smiles lazily. "Hey."_

"_Hey," I reply._

_She tries to suppress a large yawn. "What are you thinking about?"_

_I run my palm across her hair, "You."_

_She smiles wider and tucks her hands adorably under her cheek. "What about me?"_

_I move closer to her so that the tips of our noses are nearly touching. "I was thinking about that day at Kill when that fat fuck guard smashed my face off the wall."_

_I watch as her face pinches with anger at the memory. "Oh."_

"_Yeah, I was thinking about how you cleaned my face up even though you knew you shouldn't have." I smirk, thinking back._

_She was so fucking stubborn and tenacious. She was glorious._

"_I couldn't have left you with blood all over," she mutters, avoiding my eyes._

_I place my fingertips on her cheek. "I remember looking at you and feeling your hands on my face."_

_She looks at me then and her eyes glisten. "You were so beautiful," she whispers. "You took my breath away. I was so scared people would see right through me."_

"I _did," I counter. "I felt it when you touched me."_

"_It was like lightening."_

_I nod and smile. She knows._

"_Did you love me then, Bella?" I ask. _

_She looks at me and breathes. "I've always loved you."_

=PoF=

The intensive care unit of the hospital was unnervingly quiet, save for the occasional beeping of the machines that, in many cases, were keeping their patients alive. Isabella clutched her mother's hand tighter as they followed a nurse down a long, deserted corridor towards Edward's room. The nurse stopped at the door and turned.

"Doctor Blake said no longer than ten minutes," she said quietly.

"I know." Isabella answered. "I'll be on the button, I promise."

The nurse smiled and walked away, leaving Isabella and Renee standing awkwardly, not moving.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Renee asked softly.

Isabella shook her head, but smiled at her mother. She'd been incredible the past couple of hours, silent and steady, holding her just the way that she needed. Isabella wasn't sure what she would have done without her. Going through this with her, Isabella couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and sympathy. What must it have been like when her father was in the hospital, waiting for news, helpless and grief stricken? Isabella had been so young and unable to help her mother in the ways she truly needed.

Isabella pulled her mother into a rib-crushing hug. "Thank you, Mom," she breathed. "Thank you for being here."

"Of course," Renee replied shakily. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Isabella pulled back and took a deep breath.

"I'll be right here," Renee assured her, taking a seat by the door.

Isabella nodded and clasped the door handle firmly. She pushed the door open, her eyes trained on the floor, unable to look up. She was so afraid of what she would see. Gathering herself together took a few moments. Gradually, she lifted her eyes to the bed at the far side of the room and, as though sucked out by a vacuum, all the air in her lungs disappeared.

Edward lay on his back, eyes closed with induced slumber, wires and tubes sticking out from his chest, arms and mouth. As Doctor Blake had explained, Edward was on a ventilator. Isabella watched it rise and fall in synchronicity with his chest. His heart was beating loud and clear, each beep of the monitor a beautiful siren reassuring her that he was, in fact, alive.

Isabella walked towards the bed slowly, quietly. She looked over him, searching for any signs of the horrific trauma that he had been through and saw nothing but a small smear of dried blood on his right arm. Pulling a tissue from her pocket, Isabella wet it with the tip of her tongue and wiped the blood away. She pressed her hands to his skin, feeling warmth and softness.

His hair was messy and his mouth appeared stuck in his perfect smirk as the ventilator tube pulled to the left side. A large white bandage covered and wrapped around his chest, a small tube protruded through it, but Isabella couldn't look at that for long. The terror of what lay beneath it was still too raw for her. She breathed deeply and let her palm whisper down the side of his face. He was so damned beautiful. She smiled wistfully. He needed a shave.

"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm here, baby."

Isabella's eyes filled with tears when she realised that, stupidly, she'd expected a response from him. He was never quiet. Never. He always had something to say, something crass, funny or colourful. She loved that about him, how he didn't give a shit, how he spoke so freely, so truthfully.

She smiled to herself. Who was she kidding?

She loved _everything_ about him. In her eyes, he was flawless. And he didn't deserve to be where he was: unconscious in a hospital bed, with a machine keeping his lungs working. Her heart stammered, seemingly knowing that its other half was so close, but so far away. He was the missing piece to her, her soul mate, her one and only love. Her everything. Her life. Living without him was simply not an option. Fate had kept them apart for so long. She had only just found him again.

To lose him now...

Halting her thoughts abruptly, Isabella let her fingertips dance up the ink on his arm, curving to his muscular shoulder. He felt so sturdy and tough under her touch, yet he lay, utterly vulnerable and helpless.

A complete paradox, as Edward had always been to her.

She leaned closer to him, running her fingers through the front of his hair. It felt so soft.

"You get better," she said quietly, near his ear, pushing her hand into his and squeezing with every word. "You hear me, Cullen? You get _better_."

She placed a tender kiss on his forehead. This time, with his scent and the familiar tingling of her flesh touching his, there was no stopping the tears.

"I love you, Edward," she whimpered against his skin. "God, I love you so much. I need you." She collapsed against him, burying her face into his neck. "Don't you leave me," she begged. "_Please_. Don't you leave me."

She prayed to God that he could hear her.

=PoF=

Aro Bartollini sat as he always did: straight backed and poker faced. His attorney was the antithesis of that at the side of him, making frantic phone calls to all and sundry and rummaging through the charges his client faced. Bartollini simply waited, bored and raging.

The room that the FBI had placed him in was heavily guarded, which didn't surprise him. He knew that they'd been trying to get him in that exact seat for years. He was fairly sure that someone's dick would be hard from all the effort that had clearly gone in to getting his ass there.

Not that it mattered; it wouldn't be long before he hit bail and was home.

And Christ, did he have a lot of cleaning up to do.

Following the deaths of Marcus and four other reliable bodies from his staff, he needed to make some phone calls of his own, as well as some house calls, starting with the incompetent motherfucker who installed the security system on his computers and phone. He'd paid a pretty penny to have the best of the best and, yet, the feds compromised that shit in less time than it took to install it. Yeah, that dick head was first on his fucking list.

He sipped nonchalantly at the lukewarm shit that they called coffee and sighed. If he was honest, he _was_ nervous about the situation he found himself in. He, of course, played it down well, acting arrogant and dangerously quiet, even when the fuckers bust into his house and arrested him. It wasn't the first time it had happened, and it sure as shit wouldn't be the last.

In fact, by the end of the day, he'd be wanted for murder.

_Vanessa._

His fists clenched and his stomach knotted in fury. His only daughter betraying him so flagrantly, so unthinkingly. She didn't know the meaning of the word loyalty. Well, she'd sure as shit learn quickly. Bartollini was positive that the feds would put her in police custody, but he _would_ get to her, her _and_ her bastard son. He'd dispose of them the way that he should have done three years ago when he found out that she was pregnant and had run away with Black.

He loved her. She was his kin. But some things were unforgivable and nothing meant more to him than allegiance.

The door of the small room opened then, and a young man, not much older than Vanessa walked in. Bartollini was sure that he was a fed, but something about him seemed...'off.' Being around law enforcement for nearly his entire life, Bartollini had learned to read the men that dealt with him. No officer, lieutenant, sergeant or agent could stand before him and be immune; however, this one was different.

He looked at the agent. He had dark, wavy hair and dark eyes that seemed to burn with something that made Bartollini shift slightly in his seat. He stood with a purpose and an arrogance that Bartollini had only seen a few times. Weirdly, an image of his own father, standing proud and terrifying over all who crossed him, suddenly struck him.

"My client has-" the lawyer began.

"Your _client_ can speak for himself," the agent interrupted, his eyes never leaving Bartollini.

Bartollini stared back, trying to read the furious face before him. No, he thought, this was more than a bust for _this_ agent. This was personal.

"Have we met?" Bartollini asked casually, folding his hands in his lap.

"No," the agent snapped. "Why?"

Bartollini smirked at the loss in composure. "No reason."

The agent ran a hand through his hair, but his eyes never left Bartollini's. His stare was penetrating, dangerous and unforgiving. He was out for blood and the look on his face showed that he was determined to get it. For a split second, Aro Bartollini was worried.

"You know why you're here," the agent continued, regaining his poise.

"Yes."

"And you know that no matter what judicial muscle you try to throw at this that nothing is getting your ass off these charges." The agent walked towards the table and placed his palms onto it, leaning forward. His young face belied the intimidating presence that he had.

"We've finally got you," he smirked. "You-"

"Agent Biers, I think we can-"

"Shut up, West," the agent shot back at the lawyer. "Let him talk." His glare shot to the Armani suit. "You shouldn't even fucking be here," he sneered.

"Everyone deserves a defence," the lawyer retorted nonchalantly.

The agent scoffed and returned his stare to Bartollini, but Bartollini wasn't interested in their conversation. No. He was more interested in the name that he had just heard.

"You're Agent Biers."

He said it as a statement, not as a question.

"That's right." Agent Biers answered with a small nod. His face watched Bartollini patiently, carefully.

"Biers," Bartollini repeated quietly.

"Yes. Biers," the agent answered, "B-I-E-R-S. Biers. Would you like me to write it down for you?"

Bartollini continued to stare at the young man before him as the pieces of the puzzle began to slide into place.

"Or does it ring enough bells for you to remember?" Agent Biers continued in a quiet voice that sent chills up Bartollini's back.

He shook his head of the dark cloud of realisation and exhaled. "How old are you?" Bartollini whispered with narrowed, petrified eyes.

"Thirty-two," the agent answered with an evil glimmer in his.

Bartollini felt his spine straighten. He sat so far back in his seat; it began to moan in protest. It couldn't be, _could it_? He realised that he was squinting at the man before him in an effort to see what he already knew in his gut was there.

"Yeah," Biers hissed with raised eyebrows, seeing the understanding wash over Bartollini like a fucking tsunami. "That's right."

The Armani suit at the table began to shift uncomfortably. "Am I missing something here?"

"Shut up," Bartollini barked loudly at his lawyer. "And get the fuck out."

The man paused for a split second before thinking better about arguing with his client - he liked _all_ of his fingers placed nicely in their knuckles thank you very much - and hauled ass out of the room, leaving the two men alone, glaring at one another like wild animals.

Bartollini was speechless. Fucking speechless. He'd paid her for fuck's sake. He'd paid her money to get rid of the…it. And yet, here _it_ was in all his six foot, fed-badge glory, thirty-two, livid and baying for blood.

"I see this is…a bit of a shock for you," Biers muttered. The sarcasm that rolled out with the words was not lost on Bartollini. "But I have all the time in the world."

He pulled out the chair opposite and threw himself down in it, slouching as though he didn't have a care in the world.

"And, to be honest," he continued with a smirk. "I really just wanna _savour_ this moment."

Bartollini pulled gently at the edges of his coat, trying like hell to appear calm, and cleared his throat. The two men sat in silence for a few tense moments, sizing the other up.

"I'm surprised that you recognised the name so quickly," Biers said, breaking the quiet first. "I'm impressed."

Bartollini shrugged. "I do my homework. I knew that she changed her name after she left,"

"_She_ being _my_ mother," Biers snarled. "And she didn't 'leave'. _You_ threw her out."

"Semantics," Bartollini said casually. He cocked his head to the left. "A whore is a whore."

Biting at the bait, but not giving a shit, Biers flew forwards over the table and grabbed at the fuckers throat. He pulled the silk tie tightly around his fist and yanked.

"Semantics or not," he spat, "it doesn't change the fact that your ass is here and it will remain so until you fucking die. And make no mistake about it you disgusting sack of shit, I will make it my personal mission to see to it that no one ever sees you or talks to you until your rotting corpse is being wheeled out of here to be thrown in the fucking furnace, including Vanessa and Ben!"

Nose to nose with his son, Bartollini was, for maybe the second time in his entire life, truly scared.

Biers let go of the bastard and pushed him back roughly into his seat. Oddly, the man sitting before him looked suddenly very old and worn. Biers tried to collect himself. He was breathing heavily, adrenaline rushing through his body. He'd lost his cool, and he'd berate himself later for it, but he'd made is point.

He pushed his hand into his own jeans pocket and pulled out the silver money clip that he had kept with him since his mother died. He looked down at it, moving his thumb over the arrogant Bartollini crest and smiled before launching it hard at Aro's chest, just as the bastard had done to his helpless mother all those years before.

"You can have that back too, you son-of-a-bitch," Biers growled as he turned away. "It ain't worth shit."

He grabbed the door handle, pulling it open, and stormed out of the room never looking back.

=PoF=

_It's dark and quiet._

_I'm warm. I'm in a large bed in a hotel room with the most perfect creature wrapped around me._

_Her skin is toasty and soft against mine and every inch smells of peaches, sex and love._

_Love._

_My God. Never had I heard anyone express their love for me the way that she had. Never had anyone embraced me into their heart and risked so much to do so._

_Never had I imagined that I would love anyone as much as I love her._

_Crippled with heartache and terror, I had confessed my true feelings to her in a shower room filled with steam and tears. It had suffocated me. The emotion that I felt was crushing. It was so new. So fucking terrifying. For Christ's sake, I'd wandered around in the snow for hours wondering what it was that I felt._

_Stubborn son of a bitch, I know. How could I have been so blind, so fucking stupid and arrogant to ignore something so incredible?_

_I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer. I kiss her hair and breathe her in. I close my eyes and drift away on its perfect scent. My beautiful girl hums in her sleep and nuzzles my chest._

_My heart thumps against her cheek in response._

_I'm yours, it whispers. I'm yours forever. But please, I beg of you, don't break me._

=PoF=

Isabella opened her eyes to see daylight pouring through the blinds of the window. She sat up in a panic, feeling her head go dizzy from moving too quickly, and clutched at the side of the hospital couch she'd been sleeping on.

"Whoa, whoa, little lady," came a calm voice from across the room, "Careful now."

Isabella looked up to see a man with blonde hair sitting on the edge of one of the four chairs in the waiting room she'd been in for God knows how long. There was just the two of them. Her mother was nowhere to be seen. Isabella was immediately apprehensive. She placed her feet on the floor slowly.

"Who are you?" She asked, her eyes darting to the door that hid at least twelve FBI agents.

"I'm so sorry," the man replied with a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes. "You wake up and there's a stranger in her with you. Your mother left to get a change of clothes for you while you slept, and I offered to stay here. The agent said that it was fine because-"

"Who _are _you?" Isabella asked again, losing her already frayed temper.

The man smiled a smile that made Isabella's breath catch in her throat. It was casual, lopsided, and made his entire face light up.

"I'm Carlisle Cullen," he answered quietly. "I'm Edward's father."

Isabella blinked in response and wondered, for a fleeting moment, if she was still asleep, having a surreal dream. She ran a weary hand over her face and tried to focus. No, she was definitely awake. The blonde man was still there.

"_You're_ Edward's dad," she said slowly.

"Yeah," Carlisle answered with a long exhalation. "Agent Biers called me last night, as did Garrett. I was in Washington DC on business. I drove back. I arrived here about two hours ago. You were flat out." His eyes looked at her with something that made Isabella's chest ache. "Your mom said that you'd been here for hours."

She nodded and shrugged, "Of course. Where else would I be?"

Carlisle smiled again, but this time it was outlined with sadness, maybe regret. "I'm glad." He sighed and the smile fell as he looked down at the floor. "I'm glad that he's found someone like you. He needed that. You, I mean."

Isabella remained quiet, watching him carefully. Edward so rarely spoke of his father that, even by association, the man in front of her was a stranger. When he _had_ spoken of his family, the words were always laced in anger, betrayal, and loneliness.

"I haven't spoken to my son in a long time," Carlisle said quietly. "I've tried calling, but he...he's stubborn. Like his mother."

Isabella clasped her hands together in an uncomfortable fist. "He...doesn't really speak to me about it."

Carlisle smiled wryly and raised his eyebrows. "That doesn't surprise me. There isn't much to say that would be polite."

His words surprised Isabella. "I know that there were some hard times between you two."

"Thank you for putting it so delicately," Carlisle chuckled. "But I think we both know that Edward hates me."

Isabella didn't disagree. She looked at her hands and tried to ignore the discomfort that she knew was radiating from every inch of her body.

"Regardless," Carlisle continued. "He's my son."

Isabella looked up to see his eyes become misty. He swallowed numerous times, fighting his emotion back and cleared his throat.

"I need to be here," he croaked. "In case...I need to be here. I would never forgive myself."

Before Isabella could say anything, the door of the waiting room opened and Doctor Blake walked in with his usual entourage. Both Carlisle and Isabella shot to their feet.

"Mr Cullen," the doctor said gently with a nod in his direction.

"Yes," Carlisle whispered. Isabella noticed that his face had suddenly turned a horrific shade of white.

Doctor Blake smiled and glanced over at Isabella. "Edward is back on the ward. His lung has remained inflated and we have removed the ET."

Isabella felt her stomach roll in relief and the dizziness returned with gusto. Her hands clapped to her mouth and she scrunched her eyes tightly shut to fight back the tears of joy.

"He's going to be alright?" Carlisle asked carefully.

Doctor Blake hesitated enough to have Isabella reopening her eyes.

"I have every hope that Edward will be absolutely fine," he replied with a small smile. "He's still on pain meds and antibiotics and he will remain that way for the next couple of days. Depending on his progress with his respiratory therapy, he could be home by the end of the week."

Carlisle let out a cough of laughter that Isabella assumed was his own joyful relief. "That's great news, Doctor."

"Edward will be in and out of consciousness for the next day or so. He's not awake yet, but when he is he will be groggy but aware. However, I can only allow one of you in to see him." Doctor Blake looked between Carlisle and Isabella, happy about not making the decision.

Isabella felt her body go cold. Technically, Carlisle _was_ Edward's next of kin. He could easily pull rank and stop her from seeing him. Her fists clenched at her sides. Just let him try-

"Go Isabella," Carlisle said softly. Isabella blinked in surprise.

He looked back at her with large, green, sad eyes. "He doesn't want to see me." He sighed despondently. "Go and be with him."

Isabella bit the inside of her mouth in an effort to stop her screaming her appreciation at the obviously fractured man before her. "Thank you," she whispered and followed Doctor Blake out of the door where two guards joined them.

Agents and police gathered along the corridor, some holding weapons, some with walkie-talkies. Isabella didn't know whether to feel safer or more terrified by their presence. She decided, instead, to ignore them and focussed on her feet as they traipsed their way towards the elevator, which would take her up to Edward's ward.

Standing with Doctor Blake, waiting for said elevator to arrive, Isabella noticed a small, dark haired girl standing with two agents. She looked as worn and weary on the outside as Isabella felt on the inside. Her arms crossed over her chest and her hands gripped at the elbows, as though she was holding herself together. Isabella knew that feeling all too well. As much as Doctor Blake's words had given her some hope and reassurance, she still felt like, with a single tap, she would shatter into a million pieces.

As Isabella's thoughts drifted, she realised that the girl was now staring back. A look of recognition passed over her face. Embarrassed at being caught staring, Isabella's eyes flickered away briefly, but were brought back as the girl began to walk towards her. She took slow, hesitant steps that were silent as death across the hospital floor.

"Are you Isabella?" The girl asked timidly once she was two feet away. Her arms were still in the same position, and her grip was unyielding.

Isabella frowned gently. "Yes," she answered.

The girl's eyes widened infinitesimally at the same time that she licked her lips in what Isabella could only surmise was panic.

"You don't know me," she continued. She swallowed audibly. "My name's Vanessa Bartollini."

Isabella instantly took a step back from Vanessa for no other reason than the name she had just heard made her want to rip the ever loving shit out of everything around her. That name was the reason Edward was where he was, was the reason that he had been in prison in the first damned place.

"I know I'm probably the last person that you want to speak to," Vanessa continued, imploringly. "But I just want to say how sorry I am that-"

"Don't,' Isabella hissed. "Just don't."

Vanessa flinched at Isabella's venom. "I didn't know," she whimpered. "I would never put Edward in harm's way. I swear to you."

Isabella could feel the blood thundering through her veins. Her anger and hatred began to skyrocket. Just as it reached its peak, however, the elevator chimed and the doors opened. She strode into the metal box, gritting her teeth and rubbing her palms against her thighs.

"Isabella," Vanessa pleaded.

Isabella turned to face her once she was in the elevator. She glared and shook her head in disgust. "You're right," she spat, seeing Agent Biers over Vanessa's shoulder. "You are the _last_ person that I want to speak to."

Vanessa's tear stained face was the last thing Isabella saw before the elevator doors closed. She breathed deeply and rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. Anger and sadness ripped through her. How stupid had Vanessa and Jacob been? Isabella knew the connection between Agent Biers and her, but it didn't make her choices right. Vanessa had put, not only Jacob's life in danger, but Edward's too, and that, for her, was unforgivable.

The awkward silence that surrounded her was deafening. Doctor Blake coughed his unease, but placed a gentle hand on her back between her shoulder blades. It remained there comfortingly until the doors reopened and he ushered her onto the quiet ward, flanked by the two guards. The ward was busier than the ICU which, weirdly, made Isabella relax. Being busier meant there were more people to look after Edward, to make sure that he was okay. Doctor Blake led her down the hall before stopping at a door that, again, was guarded by two plain clothed officers.

"He's quite safe," muttered the doctor when he saw Isabella's gulp of panic

Isabella nodded. "How long can I stay?"

Doctor Blake smiled. "Take your time."

Isabella smiled back, a timid, grateful smile and walked into Edward's room. The heart monitor was still beeping in the corner of the room, but the scary tube that was in his chest the last time that she had seen him was now gone. The bandage around his chest was new and an oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. He was asleep; his breaths were deep and beautiful. Isabella walked towards the side of his bed and placed a gentle hand over his heart. She smiled when his chest lifted under her palm.

Never had the simplest of things – taking a breath – been so spectacularly wonderful.

She leaned over him and kissed his forehead. She moved his hair back and watched him. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered. "And I love you. I love you so much."

His eyes moved under the lids, as Isabella continued to whisper secret words of love, until, with one slow blink, they opened, only a half centimetre, but they opened. They were crusty, tired and confused but it was enough to have Isabella smiling through her tears.

"Hey," she said softly as the backs of her fingers whispered down his face. "Hey."

He looked at her through his lashes and tired eyes and the side of his mouth twitched. Isabella grabbed his hand and squeezed.

"I'm here, sweetheart," she said, kissing his knuckles. "I love you." She took a deep breath. "You're in the hospital," she explained. "You were…you were shot in the back, your lung. They took the bullet out, but you're going to be fine." She kissed his hand again and placed it against her cheek. "You'll be _just_ fine."

She felt him pull on her hand weakly, gesturing towards his oxygen mask. "Is it uncomfortable?" She asked as she tried to readjust the elastic straps that pressed against his face. He tried to shake his head no, and grimaced as he did.

"Wait a second," Isabella muttered as she pulled the mask down to his chin, worrying immediately if she should be doing it.

"What is it, baby?" She asked quickly. "Does something hurt? Do you want me to call the nurse?"

He shook his head again and pointed to his mouth. Isabella leaned closer, struggling to hear the words that he was pushing through his lips.

"It's okay," she soothed. "It's alright."

He gasped a breath out and his face pinched in pain. "Pea-" he breathed. "Peach-"

Isabella smiled. "Yes, Edward." She ran her free hand through his hair. "Your Peaches is here. I'll always be here."

He swallowed and paused. "You were…in my dreams."

Isabella felt her two tears slip down her cheeks. She squeezed his hand tighter and nodded.

"Love you," he murmured, closing his eyes. "Kiss."

"Always," Isabella replied before placing a soft kiss on his warm, dry lips.

And it felt so wonderful, so perfect.

He breathed a long breath down his nose that tickled her skin, and she felt his mouth lift into a small smile. He felt it too.

Pulling back slowly, she carefully placed the mask back onto Edward's face, leaned her head against his shoulder and continued to whisper her love to him until they both fell fast asleep.

**Holy emotional rollercoaster, Batman!**

**Not long to go. I have one more short chapter then the epilogue to go. **

**Question: Do you want to know more about Vanessa and Jacob or no?**

**Thanks again for all your amazing support. It's all for you.**

**Follow me on Twitter sophiejax.**

**TTFN xxx**


	46. Chapter 46

**Well, here it is t**_**he penultimate chapter.**_

**_An Epilogue will follow shortly._**

**_I have so many words, but I don't even know where to start._**

**_I'll leave the chapter to speak for itself and to also stand as the biggest of thank you's to each and every one of you who has supported me and this fic._**

**_For that, I have no words except these…_**

_I Won't Give Up,__ cover by Adam Stanton. A Thousand Years, Christina Perri. Truly, Madly, Deeply, Savage Garden. Something, The Beatles. Come Away With Me, Norah Jones. Iris, Goo Goo Dolls. In My Life, The Beatles. One and Only, Adele. I Will Follow You Into the Dark, Death Cab for Cutie. More Than Words, Extreme. Thunder (Acoustic), Boys Like Girls. Your Guardian Angel, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus._

**Chapter 45 – No Regrets**

_God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference_ – _**Reinhold Niebuhr**_

It had been two days since Cullen had awoken entirely discombobulated, in an uncomfortable as all hell hospital bed with every inch of his body feeling as if _a Mack truck had ploughed into it._

_Ploughed, dragged, and_ reversed.

Needless to say, his shit was feeling decidedly tender and the constant _soreness in his chest had him pressing the pain relief button on a regular basis. He'd tried to underplay it to the doctors, nurses, and even Bella but, the truth was, it hurt with every breath, and moving any part of his upper body was a struggle that left a sheen of sweat on his face and the bitter taste of hurt pride in his mouth._

Things were a little better today. He_ glanced around the room from the chair that two burly male nurses had placed him in a half hour before and rubbed at the rough stubble on his face. He felt tense, anxious and could have murdered a damned smoke._

The right side of his chest_ flinched at the thought._

_Yeah. He sighed. Doc had told him that he'd have to quit that shit. The news went over as expected. Not well. Next to sex and his bike, smoking was Cullen's favourite thing and being told that he had to stop was like putting cake in front of a fat kid and telling him not to eat it: Damned near impossible._

Fuck, he was bored.

He'_d woken that morning, panicked to shit when he'd realised that his Peaches wasn't there. A helpful nurse had informed him that she had gone to take a shower and get a change of clothes, leaving him feeling like a damned pussy that she wasn't there to hold his hand. A guilty pussy at that. She hadn't left him since he woke up, not for one moment, and he knew that she was exhausted. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and she looked like she needed to eat a good meal._

Nevertheless, dammit, she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

When he'd woken from his anaesthetic, groggy _and barely coherent, it was as though an angel had been watching over him. She was exquisite and home. He'd dreamed of her for every second that he was unconscious, knowing that he needed to get back to her. Had_ to get back to her._ He told her so and she cried as he asked for a kiss, wanting nothing but her lips on his to know that he was alive._

He felt her reli_ef every time that he opened his eyes and looked at her, but her face held something that worried him. A quiet anger festered behind every touch and smile that she gave him, and that shit just would not do. Annoyingly, they hadn't been alone long enough for him to ask her what was going on and, every time they were_ left in peace_ he'd fought to keep his damned eyes open._

Thankfully, t_he feds had left his ass alone since he'd answered as many questions as he could the day before. Honestly, he was struggling to remember anything that had happened and told Biers as such. He remembered leaving his apartment, meeting Jake and hearing a gunshot. That was it. As unhelpful as that was, maybe it was for the best. He'd seen Bella flinch when he's mentioned the gunshot and couldn't help the guilty shiver that ran through him._

He had been so fucking careless._ He dropped his head back on the headrest of the chair._

_Shit._ He needed to talk to her.

The door of the room opened carefully, bringing Cullen's head up, and a curvy woman dressed in hospital standard dress walked in. She was tall and broad shouldered, but had a face that was reasonably pretty. Her dark,_ red hair was pinned back and she wore a large diamond ring on her wedding finger. She clutched a clipboard in her hand and glanced at it at regular intervals._

"_Good morning, Mr Cullen," she chimed with a small smile. "I'm Bree, your respiratory therapist. How are we feeling today?"_

Shit. Today was therapy day.

Doctor Bl_ake had explained that, in order for his ass to get home as quickly as possible, he would have to undergo extensive respiratory therapy. His lung was fine, Doc said, but it would need time to get back to being strong enough for him to start living normally again. He'd had part of it removed, for Christ's sake, so Cullen knew that he would have to take it easy. It would be a while before he was running the New York City marathon._

H_ell, being moved to the chair had taken it out of him._

To stop DVT, they said. Whatever. He was just glad he was out of that fucking bed.

Cullen cleared his throat. "I'm alright,"_ he answered solemnly._

He looked up at the clock on the wall. How long was Bella going to be? He fidgeted and winced when he stretched his back.

"_That's great," Bree smiled. "I'm going to run through some small tests with you to see where we are in terms of your breathing and strength and then we'll get started."_

Cullen rolled his eyes. This woman was too damned cheerful for her own good. Yes, she was there to help him and shit and he appreciated it, but did she have to be so fucking chipper?

"First, I'm going to test your peak flow," Bree continued.

"Whatever," he spat.

As she began to flit about, wittering on about whatever the fuck she was wittering about, Cullen started to zone out, watching the clock, and waiting for his girl to reappear. He blew into whatever Bree held out to him and nodded and rolled his eyes as she chattered on.

_Her waving hand in front of his face pulled him back to the room._

"I'm sorry," Bree said casually. "Am I boring you?" She tilted her head to the right.

Cullen frowned and scoffed like a teenager. "No."

"That's weird," she countered. "Because I've asked you to sit forward three times so I can listen to your breathing, and you've ignored me. I'd hate to think that you didn't give a shit about getting better just because you have a crappy attitude towards hospital staff."

Cullen's mouth popped open. "Excuse me?"

"Save it, pretty boy," Bree added, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've dealt with any and all types of assholes in this place; you are just one of many and, I hate to break it to you, but your indifference is nothing new."

Cullen felt his blood begin to boil. "Who the fuck do-"

"Who the fuck do I think I am? Who the fuck do I think I'm speaking to?" She bent over, bracing her hands on her knees,_ pushing her face closer to Cullen's. She smelled of soap and lemongrass._

"_I'm here because I was told to be here," she said in a quiet tone. "I'm here because that's what I get paid to do. What I don't get paid for is putting up with pricks who think they are too good for the treatment and care I provide."_

_Cullen's jaw flexed._

"_So, as much as I appreciate that you have been through a fair amount these last few days, all I'm asking for is a little respect, because the sooner that happens the sooner I can help you and the sooner you can get the fuck back home and out of my face." She smiled. "Whaddaya say?"_

Cullen blinked.

Well, fuck.

=PoF=

Peter Whitlock paced like a caged lion from one end of his office to the other, gritting his teeth so hard that Jasper was convinced they would shatter. Hell, it would match the four thousand dollar vase that lay in a million pieces at their feet.

The fax had come three days ago. Its message was clear: pack up your shit, boys. Your presence at WCS is no longer required.

Jasper, for one, hadn't been surprised, and, in many ways, it had come as a huge relief. For too long he had followed his brother through the valleys of aggressive mergers and bullying acquisitions. He had stood back and watched in humiliated and embarrassed silence, as Peter bartered and harassed people and businesses for his own gains.

Yes, he was one hell of an executive and he had made himself and those around him exceedingly rich. He had a shrewd head on his shoulders and could smell a good deal a mile away, but over the years, he had grown cocky.

His manner was less genteel_ and more arrogant, and the wry smile of disappointment had now become a sneer of disgust that anyone would dare to refuse or stand up to him._

_Nevertheless, Edward Cullen had done just that._

_Peter had put every lawyer and favour he had at his disposal on the fax the minute it slid through the machine. He wanted to find a loophole, a lose end, a clause, a fuck you. He needed to find one. Jasper knew that Peter would rather die than let Cullen take over WCS, but that was exactly what was happening. There was no way around it, and the news had just come through from Peter's cronies._

_The vase had been the first casualty._

_Jasper watched as his brother continued his furious journey around the office. _

"_You're telling me," Peter growled to his consultant. "That there is no way to stop this." His index finger smacked against the desk, pressing down hard into the fax._

_Rick, his consultant, shifted on his feet and cleared his throat, "Yes, Sir."_

_Peter's eyes grew impossibly wider. Jasper had never seen his brother look so unkempt. His hair was ruffled and a light sheen of sweat covered his cheeks and forehead._

"_I don't fucking believe this!" He bellowed. "The prick has been in hospital, near death, and he still manages to…How_ is this even possible?"

"Well, Sir, Cullen has-"

"Don't answer me when I ask rhetorical questions, Rick!" Peter snapped angrily. "I can fucking read!"

Peter exhaled heavily and rubbed a palm over his mouth. "I thought we did everything in our power to cover this up." He gestured towards the black and white pictures of Isabella and Cullen. "I was told that things were in place to keep that bastard out; to keep him away from my company."

Jasper felt his anger surge. And not for the first time. The fact was, Peter had always considered WCS his, when, in fact, it was far from it. He had wormed his way in, using his lawyer experience and his family links to move up quickly. In all that time, however, he never once acknowledged Jasper's help or the work he did to keep him clean of all the shit he got into. Of course there were the obligatory raises and single malt gestures that would show up on his desk every once in a while, but neither made up for the amount of times that Jasper had paid or bartered with people in order to keep his brothers indiscretions off the board's radar.

Enough was enough.

The crunch, for Jasper, was when Peter had insisted on bringing Isabella into the shambolic affair. It went from being a matter of principle to a pissing contest, with Cullen on one side and Peter on the other. It was pathetic, and Jasper had wanted no part of it.

He genuinely couldn't understand why Peter wouldn't just let Cullen have his share of the pie. It would simplify things; keep Cullen quiet. But Peter had had other ideas.

The photographs were all his doing and Jasper had reached his limit. Isabella didn't deserve it and, as Jasper thought long and hard about it, neither did Cullen.

Shit, everyone made mistakes for Christ's sake, and it wasn't fair to keep Cullen reliving his over and over. Isabella was, as Alice had conceded, very much in love with Cullen. The guy had a real chance at turning his life around and being happy. Jasper couldn't stop that from happening. And neither could Peter.

"Peter," Jasper muttered, as he watched the other five men in the room shuffle and fidget.

"No, Jasper," Peter barked back. "We need to figure this out, work out the next step."

Jasper blinked in confusion and caught Rick's equally bewildered eye. Sighing, Jasper took a cautious step towards his brother and clasped his hands at his front.

"Pete," he said quietly. "There is no next step. This is concrete. This is happening."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "What the hell is this?" He asked in disbelief. "Have you all lost your balls?" He eyed each man menacingly, finally coming back to Jasper. "This isn't over, Jas. Not by a long shot."

Jasper rolled his eyes and pushed his hands into his pockets. "It is over, Peter. It's been over for a long time. It's time to move on."

The look of absolute fury on Peter's face surprised even Jasper. "Why you..." he hissed. Peter clenched his fists at his side and dropped his chin slightly, "Everyone out!" He shouted.

Jasper watched as the staff scuttled out like cockroaches, closing the door firmly behind them. The room was oppressively silent for the thirty seconds that it took Peter to reign himself in. He was furious, Jasper knew, but honestly, he couldn't have cared less.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Peter murmured through tight lips.

"There's nothing wrong with me," Jasper shrugged.

"Then what the hell are you doing? Do you not understand what this means?" He held up the fax and shook it.

Jasper nodded. "I know exactly what it means," he answered calmly. "I knew what it meant three days ago and I know what it means now." He took another step towards Peter. "It means that you and I each get a settlement that will ensure we never have to worry about money again, and Cullen gets what's rightfully his."

Peter blanched. "I beg your pardon?"

Jasper shook his head. "Oh, come on, Peter. Let it go. This is how it's meant to be! He is the rightful owner; written in black and white all those years ago. He deserves to have it back and not coveted by you!"

Peter lunged at Jasper, but Jasper was faster. It wasn't always so, but age brought a strength that he didn't have when they were kids. He pushed Peter away until his back was against the wall.

"Back the fuck off, Peter," Jasper growled with a pointed finger in his face. "I am not six, and this company is not your goddamn GI Joe. Face the fact that, this time, your dirty little bastards couldn't get you out of this and move on with your dignity and name intact."

He pulled back and adjusted his jacket. "Jesus, man, get a grip. You're losing it."

Peter swallowed. His face was beet red and his chest lifted and dropped quickly.

Jasper shook his head despondently. "What happened, Peter?" He asked sadly. "He's your cousin! He's family. He's been in fucking hospital because he was shot! And look at you, you don't give a shit. I mean, this isn't you."

"This is me," he countered. "This is me keeping this company alive before some coke headed fuck up drags it back to the gutter he came from."

Jasper narrowed his eyes in disgust. "Like you're so fucking perfect." He chuckled without humour. "How can you be so self righteous when you do the things you do?"

Peter's back straightened slightly and a glimmer of caution appeared in his eye.

"Yeah," Jasper whispered. "I'm sure the board would be interested to know just who you do do business with."

Peter gave a wry smile, "You son-of-a-bitch."

"Maybe," Jasper countered darkly. "But I'm telling you. Let this go, Peter. Walk away with your head held high. Take your stocks, buy a house, buy some diamonds or go on a long vacation to butt fuck nowhere, but walk away or so help me."

Jasper turned away slowly from his brother, adjusting his tie as he did.

"Well, hell," Peter said. "That sounds like a threat, Jas."

Stopping, Jasper looked back over his shoulder, taking in the stranger his brother had become. "No threat," he answered before he walked towards the office door. With his hand on the handle he continued, "It's a promise."

=PoF=

Edward was pulling his robe back around his shoulders when there was a heavy knock at the door. He glanced warily at his Bree and cocked an eyebrow.

She smiled back at him. "I'm not expecting anyone," she said as she placed her stethoscope around her neck.

"Are we done here?" Edward asked.

"We are," she replied. "I'll see you tomorrow, though." She picked up her clipboard and started to write some notes. "Today was good. Your lungs are clear and your breathing is better than I expected." She grinned. "We'll have you standing, walking, and maybe running by the end of the month."

Edward rolled his eyes, "Can't wait."

Despite his foul temper, he had actually enjoyed Bree's company. She wasn't stuffy like the other nurses and she certainly gave as well as she got in the bullshit stakes. He just wished that Bella would hurry up and get back. He'd guaren-fucking-tee that his breathing would improve dramatically once that happened, once she was close to him.

"I'll let your friends in," Bree murmured as she made her way to the door. She gasped when she opened it, however, when she came face to face with a giant ape of a man with a megawatt smile and a voice that boomed around the entire room.

"_Cullen, you shitkicker! What the hell_ are you doing in a place like this?"

Edward sighed, but couldn't help his smile. "Hi Emmett," he replied.

Emmett winked at Bree, snickering when she scampered off,_ and sauntered into the room as if he owned the joint._

"_Which fucking idiot allowed you in here? You got passed security? " Edward asked as they bumped fists._

Before he could answer, however, Edward's attention was drawn to the _lone figure standing in the doorway._

"Rose," he said softly.

She crossed her arms defensively across her chest, but Edward could see the unshed tears in her large, blue eyes. He'd known Rosalie for too many years, and her façade of indifference and annoyance was as transparent as water.

"Come here," he uttered gently, opening his arms to her. He watched, as her eyes shot momentarily in Emmett's direction, before she walked to him and snuggled into his embrace.

"You scared the shit out of me," she sniffed into his neck.

"I know," he answered, as he rubbed her back. "I'm sorry."

"When I got the phone call…" She left the sentence unfinished. Her implication was enough: she had thought the worst.

"I'm okay," Edward soothed. "They say I can go home in a few_ days."_

_Rosalie released her hold of him and stood up. Quickly, she wiped at the skin under her eyes and cleared her throat. "That's good," she replied._

Edward nodded and smiled at two pairs of awkward eyes. _He looked between the two of them and raised his brows, as it clicked in place._

"So, this is what you wanted to tell me?" He asked Rosalie while pointing a finger at a fidgeting Emmett.

Emmett pushed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. "Look, man," he began, but Edward stopped him with a raised hand_._

"_Don't," he said. "It's okay." He watched the suspicion crawl over Rosalie's face and laughed lightly._

"_Honestly," he continued, "Who am I to judge who you want to be with, right? As long as he treats you right," he made sure his eyes were firmly on Emmett as he spoke to Rose._

"_And if he hurts you," he added. "He'll_ be the one having part of his lung removed…"

Emmett laughed uncomfortably.

"…and his stomach, his spleen, his cock-"

"Okay, we _get_ it," Rosalie interrupted with a long exhale and a shake of her head. She walked to Emmett and put her arm through his. Edward watched her face as she did, and was amazed at the peace and adoration he saw there.

My God, she really _did_ love him.

Emmett caught his stare. "I'll take care of her, I promise," he murmured.

Edward gave a one sided smile. "I know you will."

And he really did.

=PoF=

Isabella was sweating. She was sweating and she was rushing. She had only wanted to be away from Edward for an hour, but it had been over two. The traffic in the city had been heinous_, because of the snow, and everything that she'd needed to do had taken a million times longer than it normally would have._

She pushed her hair from her face as she smiled at the officer still guarding Edward's door_, and pushed it open. It turned into a huge grin when she saw him sitting up in bed, playing with the television remote, grumbling about 'fucking Honey Boo Boo shit.' He dropped it and stared at her, as she made her way to the chair._

"Hey," she said while she shook off her coat and set down her bag. "I'm so sorry I was away all that time."

She walked towards him and cupped his cheek before she placed the softest of kisses on his lips. Jesus, he tasted so damned good. Just to feel him so warm and responsive to her again was a dream come true. The kiss was languid, but ached to be more. Edward moved his head closer and nipped at her top lip. She moaned softly and he gripped her forearm as the tips of their tongues met.

"Where were you?" He asked when_ she pulled back and rested her forehead against his._

"_I went home to get a few things, and then I went to your apartment to get you_ a few things."

"_You showered." He smiled. "You smell fucking fantastic. Peaches_."

She laughed lightly.

"I missed you," he confessed. "I panicked. I woke up and you were gone."

"I'm sorry you panicked," she whispered, kissing him again. "But I still owe you; we're far from even on the panicking, scared shitless front_."_

_Isabella wanted to take the words back as soon as she said them, but it was too late. She let his face go and smiled tightly. She could see in his eyes that he knew she wasn't okay, but their talk would have to wait. He was in recovery for Christ's sake. Her anger and hurt was not as important as that._

"_Peaches_," Edward murmured as she walked to the chair and began to unzip the bag that contained his things.

"Yeah?"

"Talk to me, please."

She felt her throat close up. She kept her back to him while she pulled out his shower gel, deodorant, clean sweat pants,_ and underwear._

"_I'm fine," she replied quickly, hating the sound and feel of the words in her mouth._

"Don't lie to me," he replied firmly. "I know you're not fine."

Isabella felt her hackles rise at his tone, which was entirely unfair and altogether inappropriate. _She took a breath as she placed the soaps on the sink in the bathroom, and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked exhausted. And she was, inside and_ out. _Her mind and her heart were a mess. They were at war and nothing she could do or think could make them stop._

The truth was_ it had been Jacob, not Edward,_ who had_ said those awful things to her. It was Jacob's fault that Edward was in the hospital. It was Jacob's fault that Edward had been shot. Nevertheless, Isabella couldn't seem to help but be angry with the man she loved. She couldn't help but feel that he hadn't given her a second thought before he made his promises to his friend. And that hurt._

It hurt deep and dark.

When Edward had been asleep and Isabella had cried tears of love, relief, and rage, she had sought out her mother, and uttered the words, feeling despicable as she did. "I'm so angry with him."

"I know," Renee had replied, taking Isabella by surprise. "I hated your father for months after he died."

"Why?" Isabella had asked.

"Because he hadn't thought about us when he made that stupid choice."

And that was the problem. Edward hadn't thought, least of all about Isabella.

Isabella moved from the mirror and leaned against the doorframe, facing the whole room. She hugged herself and toed at the floor knowing that, if she looked at Edward, she would cry.

"Bella," Edward urged. "Fuck, baby, this is driving me crazy."

She heard the panic in his voice and looked up slowly.

"Do you…are you still…" He stammered and clenched his fists. "_I mean, are we still…together?"_

_Isabella frowned and blinked in confusion. "What?"_

"_Is this what this is?" He continued. "Are you leaving me? You're so distant. You're in the same room as me but you're a million fucking miles away and, I'll be honest, it scares me to death."_

His face said it all. He was terrified and it broke her heart.

"Oh, Edward," she breathed. She felt her eyes burn with hot tears and looked towards the ceiling. She pulled the cuffs of her sweater over her hands and pushed them further into her armpits. "I am so in love with you," she said softly.

_She watched as his chest dropped in relief. "Then what is it?" He implored. "Peaches_, I've never seen you look so sad."

Isabella released a soft sob and cupped her mouth quickly. She nodded and spoke towards the floor.

"I _am_ sad," she confessed. "I'm sad because I'm hurt. My heart hurts."

Edward's face fell. His eyes hardened with guilt and his eyes landed heavily on the sheets that covered him_._

"_You…you just went, Edward," Isabella whimpered. "He called and you just left."_

Edward remained silent.

"After everything you've done for him, knowing how dangerous it was, knowing that he wouldn't think twice about putting you in harm's way. You just dropped everything and went to him."

"I know."

"I was waiting for you in your apartment. And then the phone rang and…I have never been as scared in my entire life." She looked straight at him as she spoke, praying that he heard her heart, "In my _entire_ life."

"I'm so sorry, Peaches." Edward swallowed. "I am, but, _I had to."_

"_What?" Isabella blanched. She pushed from the doorframe and took a step towards the bed. The blood thundered in her head as she replayed his words repeatedly._

"You_…_you_ had_ to? _What are you…? Why? Why did you have_ to, Edward? _He has never done anything_ for you! He uses you_. You went to prison for him!"_

"_That's what friends do!" Edward snapped back._

_Isabella dropped her arms and stared at him, "Friends? You drop everything for your friends_. _Okay, well, what about the woman you supposedly love, huh?"_

_Edward narrowed his eyes. "What?"_

"_Me, Edward, what about me?" She pushed a finger into her chest as her voice rose. "You never thought about me. Not once. He_ came first. He wh_o considers me one of your lays; an easy and regular fuck with a cute nickname! You put him before everything we've fought so hard to keep. Everything that is so_ precious to me._"_

"_Jacob doesn't think that," Edward growled between his teeth._

"_Oh, really?" Isabella retorted furiously. "He doesn't? Then why did he say_ that to me?_"_

She watched as the anger in his face ebbed away slowly, replaced with hurt and incomprehension, before she _dropped heavily into the chair. "I was here. I was here with you. Even your father was here, Edward, waiting for the doctors to tell us that you were dead."_

"_My father?"_

_Isabella glanced at him through her lashes. "Yes, your father." She put her face in her hands and let the tears fall._

It was all out there now. The words and emotions. And she couldn't erase them. She knew that she sounded selfish, but goddamn it, he should have been more careful. He couldn't just drop everything anymore for a man to whom he owed nothing. Like Edward, she was terrified. He had to understand where her anger_ and fear came from. He had to._

The silence and indecision in the room was suffocating.

If she lost him…

"I have never done anything but love you…completely and desperately." Edward's tired voice made Isabella lift her weary head. "I never 'supposedly' loved you," he added, "Ever._ Let's get that fucking straight, right now."_

"Okay," Isabella answered. She had no fight left in her.

"And I…" Edward pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and sighed. "I _was_ a fucking idiot. I shouldn't have just left that night. It was reckless and stupid."

"Yes," she replied. "It was."

"But,_ you have to understand. I went because I knew, if that had been you and I instead of Jake and Ness, I would have done everything in my power to get to you. Just like Jake did." He furrowed his brow and sniffed back his tears. "Nothing would have kept me from you, Peaches_, nothing. Consequences be damned, because I love you more than I can ever put into words."

Isabella put her hands to her mouth to hold back her cries.

"Jake is an asshole. He is a selfish, arrogant asshole who used to know me and I will deal with him about what he said to you, believe me. But we have been friends for a long time, and I know that, if the shoe had been on the other foot, he would have had my back too, no matter what he thinks about us."

He cleared his throat and rubbed his forehead with his palm. "It's a bullshit excuse, and I know that doesn't make up for what happened." He inhaled deeply and released it in several juddering breaths.

"I am so sorry for what I put you through. I am so sorry that I was irresponsible and thoughtless. And I'm sorry that you think that I never thought of you, because you are all I ever think about."

"Edward," Isabella croaked.

"Let me finish." Edward sat forward as far as _he could and held his hand out towards her._

_Without a moment's hesitation, Isabella stood up and hurried over to him, grasping his palm in hers. He was shaking. She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed every knuckle, just as she had done when he was unconscious._

"_Bella," he whispered. "I love you and I'm sorry and, I was hoping that, if you'll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you."_

He looked at her with beautiful, green eyes that shimmered with tears. _"I've loved you since I was eleven years old, and I want to spend the rest_ of my life loving you_. I want to spend the rest of my life holding you, talking to you, and making love to you."_

"Yes," Isabella whimpered against his wrist.

"My _Peaches_," he murmured, pulling her onto the bed with him. She curled into his side, holding onto him as tightly as she could.

"Don't ever put me through that again," she sobbed into his shoulder. "I'd die without you."

He pulled her closer and kissed her head and face. "I won't. I swear to you, I won't." He closed his eyes and let the tears fall silently. "I'll never leave you again. I want you forever if you'll have me. Tell me I have you forever, Bella."

"You have me," she answered into his skin. "Every part of me is yours."

=PoF=

The corridor was quiet as Cullen wheeled himself towards Jacob's room. The police presence was still heavy, although the threat level towards all of them had dropped dramatically since Bartollini was refused bail and a hearing had been arranged. Biers was confident that it was over, but_, seemingly, not confident enough to pull all of his boys from the hospital floor._

_Cullen was glad of it, however. The more cops, the more safety for his Bella, and that was paramount. That's all he wanted, needed. After their…talk_ two days before, things had been much better between them. She looked lighter, less weighed down by her worries and her anger, and, fuck, if her anger hadn't taken his ass by surprise. She had been so hurt, the expression on her face had damn near killed him. And quite rightly. He'd been a prick.

He couldn't be so careless. He had Bella to think of too now. They were a team. Whatever happened to him affected her_ and vice versa. That was why he had to speak to Jacob and set the fucker straight._

_He heaved his arms around the wheels of his wheelchair once more and groaned as the muscles in them protested. Bree had worked his ass hard in the exercise room the past two days. He had walked and done weights with his legs and arms, building his chest and getting his breathing under control. The woman was relentless. Jesus. Cullen had even, for one desperate moment, wished for one of Alec's classes instead of the horrific shit Bree was putting him through. But he had grinned and bared it and done as he was told._

The bonus was, of course that he was going home in twenty-four hours. Thank fuck.

"Cullen," the officer said,_ as he held Jacob's door open for him._

"_At ease," Cullen remarked back and pushed himself into the room._

_Jacob was sitting on a two-seater couch, reading Last Exit to Brooklyn_, his favourite book. _His leg, which was resting on an uncomfortable looking ottoman, remained bandaged, and an IV drip was standing at the side of him, connected to the inner crease of his right arm. _

_Jacob smiled when he noticed Cullen over the top of the page and placed his book down. "Well, shit, son. It's good to see you!"_

Cullen couldn't help but smile, because it _was_ good to see his friend. Christ, there had been a time when he thought he'd never seen anyone again, so any friendly face at this point was awesome. They bumped fists_._

"_I'm surprised you're still here," Cullen said with a nod._

"_Yeah," Jacob grumbled. "I got a damned infection in my leg." He pointed towards the IV. "This is to help apparently. Between you and me, though, I think the nurses just like my ass and want to keep me here."_

_Cullen smirked, as he put his brakes on. Jacob laughed as he did._

"I sure hope _Kala_ isn't the jealous type," he said, gesturing to Cullen's wheels.

"Nah," Cullen replied. "She knows that she's the only metal for me."

Jacob snorted. "Not an open relationship? Man, you've changed."

Cullen looked at his friend quizzically and shook his head. "I'm a one woman man now, Jake," he answered, feeling the shift in conversation, "Especially when I'm in love with her."

Jacob gave a wry smile_ and nodded. He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I had a feeling you'd bring that up."_

_Cullen shrugged, keeping his eyes firmly on the man before him. "Well, what did you expect, Jake? That you'd speak to her like that, and I wouldn't have something to say about it?"_

"Listen, she came to me," Jacob protested. "Damn near scratched my eyes out."

Cullen felt his skin prickle at his friend's tone. "If I'd been able and I'd heard you speak to her that way, I'd have ripped your fucking balls off."

Jacob rolled his eyes, making Cullen's blood fizzle. "I didn't say anything that warranted her behaviour, man. Seriously."

Cullen frowned and narrowed his eyes, "Her behaviour? For fuck's sake, Jake, I was on death's door, she was bound to be a _little_ wired. She didn't need you giving her shit and saying what you did."

"She came in here shouting her mouth off, what did you expect me to say?" Jacob argued.

"I'd expect you to treat her with some respect, just as I do Nessie!"

"Leave Nessie out of this," Jacob warned, his protectiveness_ stunning Cullen into silence._

_Eventually, Cullen scoffed and sat back in his chair. Blinking at Jacob in disbelief, he felt the air around him grow thick and a cold ripple of hurt and anger run through his body._

"_You selfish son-of-a-bitch," he murmured, shaking his head slowly._

_Jesus, how had he not seen it before? Bella had been right. Garrett had been right. They had all been right, and he had been so blind._

"_Oh, come on, Cullen," Jacob protested, but Cullen's murderous expression stopped him in his tracks._

Cullen breathed slowly, knowing that his temper was on the verge of unravelling. He looked away from Jacob, noticing a beautiful framed picture of Vanessa and a dark haired, little boy who had Jacob's eyes, standing on the side table next to his bed.

"_You're happy, Jacob?" He asked gesturing with his head towards the picture._

_Jacob exhaled and nodded. "Yes, I am," he answered. "I have everything that I could ever want. Vanessa and I are going to give it a shot." He chuckled. "We have to live in secret with new names for a while, but I'm sure we'll be okay."_

_Cullen kept his eyes on the picture and felt his heart stammer. That's what he wanted. He wanted that. He wanted that with his Bella, and he could so easily have lost it all. He could have lost it all because he chose Jacob._

"Do you remember that night, Jacob, the night you saved my life?"_ He asked quietly._

"Of course, I do, Jacob replied. "How could I not?"

Cullen gave a wry smile and took the brakes off his wheels. He turned the chair around and made his way slowly to the door.

"I'm glad that you do," he murmured. He stopped, feeling his chest grow tight as he spoke. But once he started, the words wouldn't stop. "We're even now, Jake. I've paid my debt and then some to you. I owe you nothing."

"Cullen," Jacob argued, grabbing for his crutches.

"No," Cullen snapped, turning to look at him. "You have _everything_ in your life that you want, and I'm happy for you. I am. Truly. But I have everything I want too and you can't see that. You don't care about that like a friend should." He swallowed and squeezed the armrests of his wheelchair. "So I'm thinking we shouldn't be friends anymore."

"Cullen, come on," Jacob protested, sitting forward on his seat. His eyes were wide and his hands were open as they always were when he wanted something. But, as familiar as the gesture was, all it did was make Cullen feel hurt.

He paused and looked at the man who had become a virtual stranger to him. It was fucking _sad that it had come to this. It was sad that everything they had been through together had driven them apart instead of bringing them together. They had travelled the same road for so many years, brothers in arms, but they had come to a crossroads, a crossroads that took them in two very different directions._

_They didn't need each other anymore, and, the more Cullen thought about it, he realised that they hardly had anything in common anymore. Shit._ They barely _knew_ each other anymore. _He looked at the picture of Vanessa and the boy one more time and smirked._

_Well hell._

Ironically, _they did_ have something in common: they both wanted happiness. _They both wanted something good in their lives, to take them away from all the shit that had come before._

Sadly, as Cullen had slowly come to accept,_ they would never find that being in each other's lives. _

"_Take care," Cullen said softly as he knocked on the door to get the officer's attention. It opened as Jacob spoke._

"_You too."_

_Cullen nodded, turned from him, and wheeled out of the room feeling, for the first time in a long time that he could really breathe._

_=PoF=_

Grumbling about the cold and shaking the snow from her woollen hat, Isabella pushed the front door shut with her ass and trudged to the breakfast bar where she heaved two sizable grocery bags.

She pulled off her hat and gloves, unzipped her jacket, and made her way into Edward's sitting room to find him slouched on the sofa, watching TV, chewing the ever-loving shit out of a toothpick. Isabella smiled and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched him. He'd been bitching about not being able to smoke for the three days that he had been home but, surprisingly, he hadn't touched one. The toothpicks were a poor but very necessary alternative.

Isabella couldn't help but feel proud of him.

Noticing her _once the commercials came on, Edward looked up and smiled. "Hey beautiful," he said. "Did you get me something nice?"_

She smirked. _"Well, I got you your Oreos, your milk, and some Dr Pepper."_

He dropped his head back onto the sofa and sighed. "God, I love you," he murmured.

Isabella laughed and shook her head at him. He had been so relaxed since he had left the hospital. He seemed calmer, less anxious and the result was wonderful. Sure, he'd bitched about the smoking and the fact that he was house bound for another _couple of weeks because of the cold and the danger of pneumonia and the like, but other than that, he was like a new person._

Truthfully, Isabella herself felt lighter. Their conversation and the fact that he had spoken to Jacob had soothed her own worries and cemented her confidence in the fact that they were both in it together for the long haul. Not that she'd ever doubted it, but the events of that horrific night had certainly caused some fractures.

Isabella wandered back to the kitchen and began putting the groceries away. Once she was done, she poured them both a large glass of milk and tucked the packet of Oreos under her arm. She handed one glass to Edward and sat down next to him, putting the cookies between them. Edward took all of two seconds to rip the packet open and begin devouring the contents.

She smiled to herself as he started talking with a mouthful. "So I was thinking while you were out."

"Were you?"

"Mmhm," he replied wiping at the corners of his mouth with his thumb and index finger. "I was thinking that I feel a lot better today."

Isabella glanced at him to see a glint in his eye that meant only one thing.

"Are you?" She asked noncommittally.

"Yep, a million times better." He_ patted his chest with his palm, "Stronger every day. Bree said so."_

Isabella struggled to hold in her laughter when Edward puffed out his chest and winked.

"That's great, sweetheart," she replied, putting her glass of milk down onto the coffee table.

"Isn't it though," Edward agreed, placing his glass next to it. "I fee_l like I could run a marathon." He placed his right palm on Isabella's thigh and leaned towards her._

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she chided as he rubbed the tip of his nose across her cheek.

"Well, maybe not the _actual_ marathon," he conceded_, moving his hand in slow, teasing circles that made Isabella's skin flush. "But I could definitely make love to my woman."_

He kissed her cheek and let his tongue meander down towards her neck. "In fact, I could even go so far as to say I could_ fuck_ my woman._" He nibbled her jaw. "Hard."_

Isabella couldn't help the mew of want that slipped passed her lips. She wanted him. Jesus, she wanted him so badly, but sex wasn't a good idea. He was still recovering. _His recovery was paramount. Sex would come later. He scraped her neck with his teeth._

_He felt so damned good. She moaned again as he continued teasing. She felt Edward's smile against her flesh and pushed gently at his chest._

"We can't," she whispered. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as her sucked on her ear lobe.

"Yes, we can," _he urged, pushing his hand between her legs. "I'm fine."_

"No," Isabella replied. "You're not."

She pushed a little more on his chest until he relented. His eyes flashed with anger, as_ he sat back with a thump. His petulance was adorable._

"_For fuck's sake," he grumbled picking up his toothpick and shoving it back into his mouth._

_Isabella readjusted her top that had ridden up with his chest moving against hers, and scooted towards him. "I'm not being mean, Edward, we just have to be careful. The doctor told us, no physical exertion." She nudged his elbow with hers. "And you know that we can get a little...you know, when we...you know."_

She trailed off, feeling her face grow hot.

Edward looked at her surreptitiously, "A little _what_, _Peaches_?"

Isabella narrowed her eyes at him in jest. "_Don't push your luck, Mister," she warned with a pointed finger._

He threw his hands up in the air in frustration and let them land on the couch with a loud thump. "This is bullshit," he moaned. "If I feel fine then who is anyone to say that I can't do what I want?"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. You'll live."

She saw his head drop slightly towards his chest as he exhaled. "But...I miss you," he murmured.

Isabella felt her heart skip at his words. He looked so forlorn. She pulled his arm up and wrapped it around her shoulders, tucking her legs over his, and snuggled into his side.

"I'm here, sweetheart," she whispered, kissing his jaw.

"You know what I mean," he replied morosely. He squeezed her tightly against him. "I love having you like this, I love it, but nothing comes fucking close to when I'm inside of you. It feels_ like forever since I had you."_

He looked deep into her eyes. The green of them shimmered and burned. "Fuck the bullet, baby. I can't breathe when I can't have _you_."

Isabella's whole body flushed. The embers that had begun to glow between her legs when he had touched her, ignited into a blaze of desperate passion and need.

"I miss you too," she confessed into the shoulder of his t-shirt.

"Then be with me," he replied quietly. The want in his voice made it rough and sexy. He turned his head and kissed her forehead. It was so tender; Isabella felt her eyes warm with tears.

"Let me touch you," he begged. "Let me make you come. Let me inside of your body. Please, _Peaches_."

Isabella's heart began to gallop and her own lungs constricted as Edward's hand cupped her breast. His thumb glided familiarly across her taught nipple, pulling a moan from her mouth and a sigh from his.

"I want you," he muttered before their mouths met. "I want you every way I can have you for the rest of my life."

Isabella groaned and kissed him with abandon. His words were like kerosene to her fire blood. For days since he had woken, he kept telling her that he wanted her for the rest of his life. He kept talking about their lives together and it made her wild with love.

She wanted it. She wanted _him_ forever and the fact that he felt the same made something carnal and possessive snap inside of her.

"Yes," she gasped as his hands started to become rough against her. "But let me lead."

Edward sat back slowly. He swallowed. "Whatever you want," he replied.

"We do this my way," she said firmly. "I don't want to hurt you and I don't want you getting sick."

Edward's head nodded so fast in agreement that Isabella was surprised it didn't fall off. She smiled. "Get naked for me, baby, and get in bed."

The grin that appeared stretched Edward's face beautifully. He got up from the sofa, slower than he would have liked, and shuffled into the bedroom._ Isabella turned the TV off and followed him, not surprised to find him naked and spread eagled across the bed. Boy could strip faster than a virgin on prom night._

Her eyes wandered over him. _Jesus, he was so hard it looked painful. His cock bobbed against his stomach in excitement as she entered the room. She licked her lips and smiled smugly when Edward groaned and fidgeted against the covers._

"_Don't tease me," he growled._

"_Oh," she answered as she pulled her sweater over her head and unclipped her bra. "I won't. I want this as much as you do."_

_She unbuttoned her jeans and let them fall. She pulled off her panties and socks and walked towards the bed._

"_You're beautiful," Edward rasped. "Every time I see you like this..." Isabella watched as his eyes prowled down her body. "I can't imagine not seeing this."_

He seemed momentarily lost for words as he disappeared into his own head, thinking back to the last two awful weeks.

"Don't," Isabella urged, reaching for his hand and placing it against her pounding heart. "We're here. We're okay. You and me."

Edward blinked himself back into the room. "Fuck, I love you."

"As I love you," she answered, crawling onto the bed.

She straddled his waist, welcoming his heat between her thighs, and kissed him. His tongue delved into her mouth, desperately seeking out hers, tangling, and tasting every inch of her mouth. His right hand buried itself into her hair and his left held her waist. His fingertips pinched her skin, telling her with each digit how much he wanted her._ Isabella embraced the slight smart of pain and moved her hips against him in response. His cock slid between her folds, dipping teasingly, deliciously as she did._

_As they kissed, Isabella took a hold of Edward's wrists and placed them on the bed. "I'm in charge," she whispered against his neck as he arched his head back and moaned. "You don't move."_

"_I won't," he replied breathlessly. His eyes were hooded and his breathing was shallow. _

_Isabella looked at him and paused. "Are you sure you're okay?"_

"_I'm sure. Please. Touch me."_

_At his pleading words, Isabella placed three languid kisses on his mouth and started to move down his body until she was on her knees between his legs. She kept her eyes on his, smiling as his mouth dropped open further and further the closer hers got to the tip of his cock. She let her tongue slip along the ridge of him and felt herself clench when she heard his growl of pleasure._

"Goddamn it," he gasped.

Isabella licked and kissed the warm flesh of his length, before she took him fully into her mouth. He tasted musky, hot and inherently Edward. She grasped him with her right hand and moved up and down him, soaking his cock with her saliva.

"Yes," Edward hissed. "Fuck..._fuck_...Bella."

She hummed and increased her speed. Up and down she moved, licking, sucking and kissing, showing her love and her desire for him in every move of her mouth. When she heard his breathing start to become ragged, she slowed and brought him back down. Over and over she lifted _until he groaned and cursed under her, begging her to make him come._

"Please," he moaned. "So close."

Isabella sucked harder, gripped tighter, and moaned herself when Edward's hand tangled itself in her hair and moved her just the way he wanted. He groaned and growled and grit his teeth before he came hard, filling her mouth, and shouting to the ceiling about how much he loved her and how good she made him feel.

Wiping her mouth discreetly, Isabella sat up and looked down at him. His whole chest was flushed a beautiful red as were his cheeks and neck. His eyes were closed, but he put his hand out for her, pulling her to his side and spooning her. He struggled a little onto his left side, but ignored any and all of Isabella's concerns.

"Are you sore?" She asked, worrying about the wounds on his back.

"No," he said softly. "I'm amazing." He kissed her hair and pulled her closer. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she hummed, "Although, you're a bad influence, Cullen."

"Always," he replied as his hand travelled down her stomach, between her legs.

"Edward, honey, y_ou don't have to," she protested, holding his forearm._

"_Yes, I do," he answered as he pushed her thighs apart and let his fingers rub across the bare skin of her pussy lips. "You feel so fucking soft," he murmured._

Isabella sighed and closed her eyes, nestling the back of her head in the crook of Edward's shoulder and neck. His fingers danced over her before they slowly spread her apart and started to rub and rotate across her clit.

"You're wet," he _said softly into her ear. "You like sucking my cock?"_

Isabella smiled at the tenderness with which he spoke such dirty words. Only he could ever do that. _"Always," she admitted, echoing his word. "I love your taste."_

_Edward grunted and kissed her neck as his fingers began to move a little faster, flicking, rubbing, circling and pushing gently inside of her. Isabella arched and moved her hips with him, placing her hand on his, feeling her own wetness on the tips of her fingers._

"Your mouth on me is heaven," he continued. "It's fucking perfection. I love watching you. I love watching you enjoy doing that to me. I can see it in your eyes. That naughty, dominating spark that only I get to _see sends me fucking wild."_

_Isabella closed her eyes and bit down on her lip._

"_I feel like I know your body better than you do," he said gently, tracing his finger over her clit in a way that made her jump with pleasure. "See."_

He placed his free hand over her breast and squeezed gently. "When we met at Kill...Christ, the things I thought about doing to you. You made me so fucking mad because you were so strong and I wanted to fuck you so hard. I wanted to fuck the sass right out of you."

Isabella laughed, sighed, and dropped her head back further so that he could kiss her neck harder, the way she liked.

"_But now..." he whispered against her skin. "I wouldn't want you any other way. I want you like this, open, giving and indescribably sexy." His fingers moved faster. "You're beautiful. My beautiful, soft Peaches_. _I love you. I love you so fucking much. Do you know that?"_

"_Yes," Isabella gasped, feeling her stomach begin to tighten with her impending orgasm._

"_Do you know that I'd do anything for you? Do you know that I think about you constantly, even when you're with me? Sometimes I think I'm crazy. You_ make me crazy. I'm insane when I'm not with you. I miss you. Jesus, B_ella, I fucking ache."_

_Isabella reached back and grabbed at his hair, "Oh God."_

"_You're everything I want and need and I need you so bad. I need us_. I need to feel _us_ like this_, because I swear to God my heart, it beats only for you. It always has."_

Isabella's spine straightened and her toes scrunched as tightly_ as they would go. She panted and gripped at him, feeling his hand and his words manipulate and own her body in the most beautifully devastating way._

"_I'm...I'm..."_

"_I know," he soothed, pushing his fingers into her. "I know."_

She moaned and gasped as her orgasm tightened and tightened through her. Edward moved his mouth impossibly closer to her ear, and, when he spoke, his voice was velvet and hope.

"Do you think our children will ever know a love like ours?"

And, with that, Isabella cried out his name, _squeezing her eyes closed, only to see lights, as her body rocked and writhed with waves of the most intense pleasure she had ever known. Edward crushed her body to his, holding her through it, whispering words that made her heart bloom. She panted and felt her skin glow with sweat, as he moved with her, bringing her down with languorous strokes of his fingers._

Gradually, Edward pulled his hand from her. He placed it lovingly on her stomach and smiled against her cheek when she entwined her fingers with his.

Isabella let the silence of the room cover them both like a warm security blanket. Never in her life had she felt more content. Everything that they had been through together had brought them to that exact moment, emotionally and physically. They had scars, both internal and external, but they were all the stronger for it. As insane as it was, Isabella knew that she would go through it all again, just to have Edward holding her the way that he was, breathing quietly against her shoulder.

She let her eyes drift closed, smiling when she felt his lips purse into a kiss against her skin.

"I'll love you my whole life_," she whispered._

"_Good," he replied. "Then marry me."_

=PoF=

A_ week later, Peter Whitlock found himself called to the offices of WCS by his board. He knew that it was bound to happen. Jasper had warned him, not that he had spoken to his brother since he had behaved like a fucking child and stormed out of the office. His promise of turning Peter in, however, was very much alive in Peter's mind. Over the last few days, he had tried his utmost to clear his name, on the chance that his brother woke up one morning and had an off day._

Little shit. After _everything _he had done for him.

Peter adjusted his tie as he approached the boardroom, ignoring the wary look that came from Helen, his CFO's secretary.

"They're already in," she said, avoiding his eyes.

Peter stopped and cocked an eyebrow. "They are?"

"Yes, Sir."

Well, that was...odd.

Regardless, he took a breath and pushe_d the large mahogany door open and immediately wished that he hadn't._

_Fuck. Me. Sideways._

"Edward Cullen," he breathed.

Incredulously, he stared at his cousin who was standing at the head of the board table in a four thousand dollar, tailored,_ blue Gucci suit, and shiny fucking shoes. The bastard had even combed his hair. He was a far fucking cry from the bedraggle ex-con whom he had spoken to not three months before._

"_Morning," Cullen replied with a slight smirk. He gestured to the empty seat to his left. "Won't you take a seat?"_

"_I'd rather stand," Peter replied, eyeing the rest of the fifteen people around the table, including...Jasper. "Isn't this cosy?"_

"_Not really," Cullen retorted sharply._

_Peter narrowed his eyes and dipped his chin in an effort to keep his temper. He gave a wry smile. "I guess this is what they mean when they use the phrase hostile takeover_."

"Perhaps," Cullen replied. "But this isn't hostile nor is it a takeover;_ I am simply reclaiming what was already mine."_

"_Cullen," Peter exhaled._

"_The board have agreed unanimously that the contracts signed by our grandparents, clearly show that I am rightful CEO and majority shareholder of WCS Communications."_

"_Do they?" Peter growled._

"_Yes, they do," Jasper answered. He took a step toward Peter. "And they would have done sooner, had you not hidden it from them. We need you to sign over your rights. I've done mine. Legally, we have to do it in front of the board and legal team."_

"I know," Peter hissed through gritted teeth.

"Don't worry," Cullen interrupted. "I've made sure that you still have shares and the payout that you are receiving is more than enough to keep you and yours secure for two lifetimes."

"It's not about the money," Peter growled.

"Exactly," Cullen snapped, moving towards him quickly. He shook his head as his eyes trailed over Peter's face. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "It never was about the money, Peter. It was about the fucking principle, a_ word that continues to elude you on a daily basis."_

_Peter stood, looking at his cousin and brother, feeling the cold fingers of defeat grip his chest. "Where's the contract?"_

"Here, Mr Whitlock," said one of WCS' law team. His name was Keith and he'd worked for Peter for years. The sly, backhanded nature of the whole thing started to surround Peter like a suffocating fog.

_Storming past Cullen and Jasper, he grabbed a pen off the table and signed his name. All his hard work, all his dreams, signed away in one brief moment. He suddenly felt very sick._

"There is also a gag order for you to sign," Keith stated in a monotone voice that grated on Peter like nails on a chalkboard. "It states that, should you feel the need to besmirch Mr Cullen's or the company's name, the entire deal will be null and void and you will be entitled to nothing. Legal action will also be swift and indiscriminate."

"Yeah," Peter retorted. "I get it." Throwing the pen down, hard, he pulled his jacket closed and buttoned it as he looked at the people of the board. "Good luck," he remarked smarmily. "You're gonna need it."

"Peter," Jasper warned, but Peter raised his palm to stop him.

"It's fine._ I'm leaving." He turned to Cullen and smiled tightly. "Well done, Cullen," he said quietly. "Looks like you landed on your feet, huh?"_

_Cullen shook his head. "No," he replied. "I just got what I deserve, as did you."_

"_Whatever," Peter snapped, pushing past his cousin. He needed to get out of there, find a bottle of JD, and lose himself in it for a week._

"_Oh," Cullen said suddenly, stopping Peter in his tracks. "I need to give you this." He walked to him, holding out a white envelope emblazoned with Peter's name. He took it gingerly. "It's an invite to a party that Bella and I are throwing this weekend."_

"_Party?" Peter asked, utterly flummoxed._

"_Yeah, at our_ apartment," he cocked his head. "Oh, didn't you get the memo?" Cullen asked innocently, scratching his chin with his thumb. He grinned. _"Bella and I got engaged."_

_Peter's fist gripped the envelope so hard that the paper in his palm ripped. It echoed around the room, bouncing around Peter like a giant fuck you ball. He swallowed, breathed, and swallowed again._

"_Congratulations," he croaked, before he turned, pushed through the doors, and made his way out of WCS for the last time._

_=PoF=_

Cullen's hand was_ sore from all the handshaking._

_Since he had arrived at seven that morning, the board had been fantastic, welcoming him with open arms. Many of the board had been friends with his grandparents, and had secretly hated Peter's underhand ownership of the company. They agreed that he had done many good things for WCS, but it was time for new ownership, a new direction, and Cullen agreed wholeheartedly._

It was the least he could do for his beloved grandmother, and his future wife.

_Fuck_. He still couldn't quite believe it. _He was getting married_. _Christ_. She'd said yes. She'd said yes to _him_. He surely was the luckiest motherfucker on the planet.

In hindsight, he hadn't done it the way that he imagined, or the way that he knew his _Peaches_ deserved, but the words had just come tumbling out. He had been so content, so at peace and in love that there had been no stopping them. Holding her, both of them warm and spent, he had thought of nothing but being with her_ that way always._

"That smile hasn't left your face all day," Jasper remarked quietly from across the room.

Cullen smiled wider as he collected his papers from the table. "I have a lot to smile about."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It's great news about you and Isab_ella."_

_Cullen looked up and cocked an eyebrow._

"_No bullshit," Jasper added with a small smile. "Really, it's great."_

"Was Alice as pleased as you?" Cullen asked dryly.

Jasper shrugged. "She's happy that Isabella's happy."

Cullen felt his chest squeeze. Yeah, he made his girl happy.

"So you'll come on Saturday?" He asked pulling his bag over his head so that the strap lay across his chest.

Jasper fidgeted. "You sure you want me there? Because, I'll be honest, I feel like fucking shit about all of this." He gestured with his hand to the empty room.

Cullen sighed and nodded. "As you should," he said firmly. "But, I've learned over the last few weeks that life is too damned short to hold a grudge. You spoke up. It took too fucking long, but you did and I appreciate that."

Jasper's face reddened. "I'm sorry it took so long."

"Yeah, me too," Cullen muttered. He walked towards his cousin and held out his hand. "But why don't we _let bygones be bygones, yeah?"_

_Jasper hesitated before he took Cullen's hand. Jasper coughed an uncomfortable laugh as the handshake stopped. "I have to say, man. You're coolness is somewhat surprising."_

Cullen laughed and raised his eyebrows. "What can I say? I'm mellowing in my old age."

Jasper chuckled. "I was surprised that you came out considering your...um...you know, what happened."

"Well, the docs say I'm doing well, but I'm not out of the woods yet. My lung's getting stronger, but I have to be careful, yada, yada. But I'd have gone Jack Nicholson psycho if I'd stayed in the apartment any longer."

Jasper nodded. "I'm glad that you're okay."

Cullen shrugged. "Thanks."

"Listen, Edward," Jasper said before he cleared his throat. "I know I have a serious amount of bridges to build, but I'd really like the chance."

Cullen paused and looked at his cousin. "Well," he exhaled. "Let's not start planning a boy's night just yet, but we'll see how it goes."

Jasper pushed his hands into his pockets and smiled, "Fair enough."

"See you Saturday," Cullen said with a small wave of his hand and made his way out of his boardroom.

=PoF=

The snow was a good three inches thick so driving _Kala_ was a definite no go. Plus, Bella would be sure to kill his ass if she knew that he was back on the bike so soon after his stint in hospital. Subsequently, Cullen found himself in a cab, heading across town to meet his fiancée.

He smiled as he thought of the word and its meaning. _Isabella Cullen. Peaches Cullen._

_Jesus_. He rubbed his face and internally berated himself. He needed to nut up. He was worse than a fucking schoolgirl, scrawling her crush's name all over her books.

The cab pulled up and he threw ten dollars at the driver.

Pulling his jacket closer around his body and dipping his chin further into his scarf, Cullen made his way through the park to where he had arranged to meet her. He smiled when he saw her, wrapped up like an Eskimo, standing next to the _Alice in Wonderland_ statue that had been through so much with them.

It had been there when they had had their first _none_ date and he had stolen the best kiss of his life. And it was there when they had danced in the rain while he hummed Sinatra in her ear. The same night he had told her who he was, resulting in her taking his heart and shattering it into a thousand pieces.

And it was still there, solid, whole, and unwavering just as he was now.

She turned as he approached, seemingly sensing his proximity to her. She smiled beautifully. Her head was covered in an adorable blue, woollen hat and the scarf that she wore was as long as she was tall. She was exquisite.

"Hello, Miss Swan," he said softly, stopping three feet from her.

"Hello, Mister Cullen," she replied. "How are you?"

"Fucking resplendent. And how are you?"

"Magnificent and cold," she laughed. "Why are we here?"

"Well," he said matter-of-factly, taking a couple of steps to her side_. "I thought we should come here seeing as this particular Alice has seen us through so much."_

_Bella looked at the statue and hummed. "I guess she has."_

"_And," Cullen continued, feeling his throat start to close slightly. "I thought she should be here for this part too."_

_Bella shook her head, not understanding. _

After a brief moment_, where Cullen's heart almost burst from his chest, he pulled his hand from his pocket and held out a small, blue box. Bella's eyes widened and snapped to his when she realised what it was._

"Take it," he said quietly.

She did and, slower than Cullen could compre_hend, she opened it and gasped._

"I should have given you this last week when I originally _proposed, but it was kind of a spontaneous thing. I didn't even have a ring."_

_He laughed in embarrassment. Bella remained silent, staring wide eyed into the box._

"_I...um...I love you," he said lamely. "I know you said yes already, and thank fuck for that. But I wanted to do it properly."_

Glancing around surreptitiously, and f_eeling utterly ridiculous, Cullen bent down, resting his right knee gently into the snow. He looked up at her and breathed deeply. He couldn't fathom why, when he knew what he was going to do, it suddenly seemed so hard._

"_Isabella Swan," he began. "My Peaches_, will you do me the extraordinary honour of marrying my punk ass?"

Bella laughed and cupped a gloved hand over her mouth. Cullen watched as two beautiful tears fell from her eyes. "Of course, I will you silly man! Now get up out of the snow!_"_

_Cullen laughed with her, stood up, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her soundly on the mouth. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. Her lips merged with his so perfectly, so beautifully that he could barely comprehend it._

He owed the woman in his arms everything. She had made him the man that he was, strong, steadfast, the man that he liked being and, as they kissed and the snow began to fall around them, he made a silent promise to himself that he would_ continue to repay her every single day of his life._

It was h_is obligation._

His debt.

His pound of flesh.

**Holy…that's all, Batman!**

**There will be an epilogue posted soon.**

**I will leave all the thank you's until then.**

**I'm feeling pretty blue here folks. Leave a review to cheer me up.**

**Follow me on Twitter: sophiejax**

**TTFN xxxx**


	47. Epilogue

**Apologies if the italics appear again. It's a formatting fault with FFn that I don't know how to fix.**

**Well, here goes *deep breath***

**Important A/N at the bottom.**

**See you on the other side…**

"_Be content with what you have;_

_rejoice in the way things are._

_When you realize there is nothing lacking,_

_the whole world belongs to you."_

~ **Lao Tzu**

**Epilogue**

I walk along the beach, feeling the sun beat down on my bare chest and the sand creep silently between my toes. The smell of the ocean is in every breath I take and the heat wraps around me like a comfortable jacket.

Pausing, I allow myself one brief moment where I close my eyes and take it all in.

I listen as I stand there. I hear the sea lapping gently at the shore, while my stupid, brown lab, _Oreo_, barks at the waves. I hear the birds over head and I hear laughter.

I smile.

The laughter is my favourite part. It's my favourite sound in the world, the sound of my wife laughing.

Well, maybe my _second_ favourite.

It floats on the warm breeze and greets my ears like an old friend. Without fucking emasculating myself, the sound of it makes me feel all the butterfly type things in my stomach. It always has. I like it. It reassures me that she's happy. And that's one of the most important things to me.

I reopen my eyes and look down the beach.

My heart clenches when I see…

_Her._

She's running, well, stumbling through the sand, bikini on, giggling as the water runs over her small feet. I watch her enraptured. My God. She's just about the most perfect thing I've ever seen in my life.

She splashes and laughs and the sound travels across the beach beautifully. I catch it in my ears and store it in a place that I'll go to on a gloomy, rainy day a long time from now. I laugh when she stumbles again. She's so inelegant. But she's exquisite. Her hair catches the sun as she twirls, kicking up the sand, and it flashes red and chocolate.

My laughter alerts her to my presence, as does _Oreos_' incessant barking. She looks at me and the smile that appears on her face, damn near floors me. I hold out my arms and she takes off, running at me as fast as her legs can carry her. She stumbles a couple more times before she reaches me, and, when she does, I lift her into the air, throwing her to the sky, catching her as she squeals with delight.

She places her small hands on my cheeks and squeezes them. "Daddy," she smiles, all tiny teeth and gums.

"Hey baby," I reply and place my lips on her chubby cheek.

I blow on it, making a loud farting noise that makes her laugh and squirm in my arms.

_Her _laughter? Yeah, _that's_ my most favourite sound.

I hold her tightly to my chest. I hold her tightly because I don't want her to fall. I hold her tightly because I love feeling her so warm and perfect in my arms. But I also hold her tightly because I want her to know that she's safe with me; that I love her more than I ever thought possible. I need her to know that that will never change.

I don't want her to grow up the way I did, thinking that no one cared or gave a shit.

Because, I _do_ care.

I fucking adore my daughter. I adored her when Bella first told me that we were expecting her, the night of our second wedding anniversary. I adored her when I first heard her heartbeat and I adored her when she came out of Bella, two and a half years ago, kicking and screaming and stealing my entire fucking heart.

Like any father will tell you, I'd lay my life down for her in a second. I love her with everything that I am.

Since she was placed into my arms - all six pounds three ounces of her - Maisie Rose Cullen has been my entire world. Of course, I was scared shitless, (who wouldn't be) but, once I got over the fear of dropping her and when I realised that, after a few diaper changes and bath times, she wasn't as delicate and fragile as I initially thought, I found that I slipped into the role quite easily.

I love and I'm loved. I even have the word inked on my wrist under my watch.

_Loved_.

It reminds me of what a lucky motherfucker I really am.

I keep Maisie in my arms, as I continue walking down the beach towards the white house that my grandmother used to own. We live there permanently now. Sometimes we head back into the city to the Tribeca apartment, but Bella and I love the house so much. It means so much to both of us. Plus, I like having my daughter in the open air, away from the hustle and bustle of New York.

"Papa come now?" She asks me quietly, playing with the hair behind my ear.

"Papa's coming later, baby," I tell her, cupping the back of her head gently. "He's coming for dinner."

Papa is my father, Carlisle.

Yeah, I know.

It's weird, really. Since Maisie was born, my relationship with him has definitely improved, which is bizarre to me considering our history. Our reconciliation was so fucking stressful to begin with, but Bella insisted that I at least hear him out and make some effort to build any kind of bridge from the tatters left between us.

So, of course, because I can't say no to her, I did.

He and I fought, we yelled, we ignored one another until, sick of the pain and anger, we both gave in. At first, I found it hard to understand how he had so easily abandoned me, walked away from his responsibilities, which, being a father now, I could never imagine doing. The more we talked, however, the more I realised that he had simply been trying to do the best he could in a situation that was beyond fucked up.

My mother's family were so awful to him that doing what he was told by them and the courts was the easiest option. Obviously, I didn't help the situation with my teenage angst. But how was I to know? He protected me from a lot of things that left me livid when he finally told me. Truth is he struggled because he was too fucking stubborn to ask anyone for help. He was determined to do it by himself, stand up to my mother's family, and it backfired.

Bella likes to tell me how alike he and I are.

Maybe she's right.

Regardless, we met his new wife, Esme. She seems pretty nice. Sadly, despite all the the will in the world and the never-ending niceties, I doubt my father and I will ever be best friends, but we speak and he visits a couple of times a month. Annoyingly, both my girls love him.

We've celebrated birthdays and Christmases together, along with Renee and Nana Boo. I've learned that I love family Christmases, especially now I have a child. I never had proper Christmases as a kid so I tend to go a little nuts with decorations and shit. Bella, God bless her, tolerates the little boy in me that gets excited about pinning stockings and tinsel to the fireplace. I love the presents, tree, and food and having people around.

Oh, yeah, just call me a fucking domesticated family man.

I chuckle to myself.

It's crazy. If you'd have told me that this would be my life six years ago, I would have laughed in your face.

I sigh as I feel my baby girl's tiny finger trace the lines of ink on my shoulder. She does it when she's tired. Most nights she'll fall asleep on me, her finger circling the swirls of colour on my skin. Those are the best times.

My most precious times.

She lifts her head, snapping awake, and I chuckle when she shouts at the dog, "Oweeo! Come home!"

He trails behind us, running in and out of the water, still barking and growling at the waves.

"You tell him, kiddo," I say, kissing her forehead. She smells of sweet jello and ocean. "Have you had jello?" I ask with wide eyes, "Without me?"

She shakes her head, her brown and red curls bouncing around her ears, "Momma, haved it. She shared me." She puts her fingers in my mouth so I can taste the leftovers. They're sweet and sticky and etched in sand. I don't care. I suck them and gobble at her hand.

"Momma did?" I laugh. "I bet. She likes jello now, huh?"

"Who likes jello?"

I turn to see my wife, standing on the end of the wooden path that leads to our home, bowl of jello and ice-cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. She's dressed in a floor length, strapless, white dress that's almost transparent and looks fucking amazing against her tanned skin. It's been a hot summer in the Hamptons.

"_You_ do," I smile.

"Have you been telling on me, Maisie?" Bella scowls lovingly at our daughter who hides in my neck, laughing. Bella tickles her and she giggles more. She looks so like Bella when she does that. My lungs give a familiar squeeze as I look between the two of them.

Christ, it still hurts to think that I so nearly lost all of this.

I try not to think about my stupid choices and the risks I took all that time ago, but they come back every so often, unexpectedly, a little voice in my head that whispers, _"This is your second chance, Cullen. Don't fuck it up."_ And I won't. I swear to God, I won't.

Maisie claps her hands and squeals. "Play with Oweeo, Daddy!" She wriggles in my arms until I place her on the floor and she runs over to _Oreo_, chasing him, trying to catch his tail. The dog loves it.

Bella walks to me and I wrap my right arm around her, placing my other hand on her beautifully rounded stomach. It's an amazing feeling, knowing that the new life growing inside of her I helped create. My daughter was an amazing, terrifying nine-month experience. This time, I feel a little calmer. I've played Daddy pretty fucking well so far. And, truthfully, I've loved every minute.

Obviously, it helps that Bella is the most incredible partner, wife, mother. I swear, without her...Christ, I can't even imagine. She works part time at a young boy's correctional facility now, teaching English. She loves it but I worry. I worry all the fucking time, but I know that she's so much stronger than I ever give her credit. I underestimate her terribly, even after all this time. We've been married for five years and she still surprises me every day.

Every day with her is better than the last and, if it's possible, I love her more every day too.

I rub my palm lovingly across her bump and she hums into my neck. I smile down at my hand, reading the word _Peaches_ that is tattooed around my ring finger. It matches the _Cullen_ that Bella has tattooed on _her_ ring finger.

Jesus, that was the hottest thing, seeing her have _my_ name inked on her.

I think she's got a taste for it, which I'm all for, by the way. She has a few now: an _E_ on her hip along with the date of our wedding and a _C_ behind her right ear for her father. Maisie's name is on her wrist.

I have Maisie's name above my heart, next to the _B _I had placed there during our honeymoon.

"Are you okay?" I ask he when she rubs her tummy and winces.

"I'm great," she replies, kissing my jaw. "Baby just keeps pressing on my bladder."

"He does?"

She nods and I turn my head, kissing her soundly.

And it's like the first time, all fireworks, heat and fucking golden.

I pull back and look at her.

"You're beautiful, Mrs Cullen," I tell her.

I always tell her.

"You too," she smiles up at me. She holds out a spoon filled with jello and I take it into my mouth.

I snort with my mouth full, "Peach jello?"

She elbows me in the ribs. "Shush! I like it. It's my favourite flavour!"

I laugh and kiss her hair, pulling her back into my side.

"Mine too," I whisper, closing my eyes and breathing her in. "Mine too."

**Holy…they lived happily ever after, Batman.**

**I am truly humbled by all of your amazing comments about this fic over the past twenty-nine months. The fact that you are still with me, is a testament to how incredible you all are.**

**Never for one moment did I think that I would have completed this with nearly 19,000 reviews. I am speechless.**

**I have made so many new friends during the writing of PoF and I will treasure you always.**

**The original PAW Princesses: Sal, Sash, Irene, Nikki, Caro, Rhian and Babs. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you.**

**To the US girls: Michelle, Pauline, Barburella, Vio, Pam, my beautiful fic wifey Rachel, Steph, Kim, Khar for your amazing and continued influence, Jada (RoseArcadia) for the amazing pimpage, Kassiah and JaimeArkin for the same and to all the amazing sites that have mentioned, reviewed, recc'd or nominated PoF, thank you.**

**To all the Twilighted girls and the girls on Facebook, you are awesome. Never change. Thank you for sticking by me.**

**And to every one of the Twitter girls…I am without words. I cannot express how much you all mean to me. You have talked me off the ledge so many times with this fic and built me back up when I've needed you to. I owe you so much.**

**There are hundreds of other people that I could mention who have supported, RT'd and helped me along - you know who you are – but I'd be here until Christmas. Just know that I love you and thank you.**

**I am sitting here with a huge lump in my throat, and tears in my eyes, feeling like I'm closing the door on a huge chapter in my life.**

**All I hope is that, when the next one opens, you'll all come through it with me.**

**I have more fics to come so keep me on author alert.**

**I will miss PAW and Peaches more than I can say, but I am so grateful that even I had them at all.**

**Much love, Oreos, kisses and hugs to all of you. **

**Yours,**

**Sophie xxxxxx**


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